“What did you tell him?” Bette wasn’t even surprised that Clarice knew.

“I told him to leave. Times were different then. Women didn’t not just divorce their husbands and went off to sunset with their lovers, especially if the lover was black.”

“Did he tell you who was that married woman?”

“No, but your father didn’t have to tell me. It was pretty easy to guess.”

“My father…you know that too?”

Clarice nodded, “It doesn’t take a psychic to figure this out. One day a black man comes to see me with a confession of his undying love for a local married woman and nine months later a local socialite gives birth to a daughter with a darker skin and black hair.”

“Melvin knows the truth,” Bette stated.

Clarice nodded again. “Mr. Potter can be obtuse and clueless but he is not entirely oblivious. When you have been with someone for a very long time, you notice certain nuances and changes in another person’s behavior. It’s not hard to put two and two together, especially when your own relationship changed.” Bette looked at her with surprise and Clarice paused for a moment. Then she asked, “Think about it. Do you remember your parents ever being affectionate with each other?”

Bette thought back to her childhood. All her happy memories consisted of her sister and her mother. Melvin wasn’t there. He was rarely home, always away on his business. Bette shook her head, “I can hardly think of anything.”

“What about George? What do you remember about him?” Bette closed her eyes, picturing her eight-years-old self.

Her mother threw her a small birthday party, inviting several neighboring kids. She was opening her presents when she saw her mother staring at a vaguely familiar black man, who was standing at the door. He removed his hat and bowed, “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.”

Few of the little girls giggled. George lifted a small package from the floor and showed it to Lizzie. “Happy birthday, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie looked at her mother and Maxine took her hand, leading her to meet the man. “Honey, this is Mr. George Carter, a good friend of your father.“

Lizzie smiled sweetly. “Please to meet you, Mr. George.” She quickly unwrapped the colorful paper and gasped in delight. Inside there was a small easel. “Thank you for this wonderful present.” She ran away to show her new toy to all her friends. Her mother just began teaching her to paint and Lizzie really loved it.