Chapter 21 Tabitha
Charleston, South Carolina
March 1919
The Charleston Chroniclelisted advertisements for cook jobs. Tabitha spent her mornings going to each one. No one would give her a chance. They wanted someone with more experience than dishing food at a general store. The final place where she inquired was near the docks. She was rejected there too. Once she exited, the fresh sea air pulled her off the street to the boardwalk.
Tabitha plopped down on a bench and opened her lunch sack. She had a biscuit with sweet muscadine jam that was no longer warm, but it was still a treat. It was nearly as nice as the breeze that floated by her. She took in the quiet minutes—minutes in which she owed no one anything, but they did not last. Worry about her situation settled in her mind like a piece of driftwood. She’d received a note from the building manager telling her she had to pay rent on the first of the month. Although she had been disappointed in the ten dollars Lady McCoy had thrown at her, Tabitha appreciated the three months she’d had of free rent. That must have been given on the word of Lady McCoy because the woman knew she was in Joseph’s building. Tabitha had told her so. She had to find a job.
Tabitha left the boardwalk back to East Bay Street for her walk home. A loud thud caught her attention. An older man was putting a hunk of wood with the word Closed etched across it in red paint in front of a shop door. She looked above him and read the name of the establishment—Hank’s Place. Thoughts of her brother entered her mind, causing a pinch of pain in her heart. If her Hank was alive, so much would be different about her life. He had been her best friend, and she was sure he would be her protector now.
Curious about the kind of establishment that bore her brother’s name, Tabitha crossed the street and headed in the man’s direction, approaching him just as he reached through the open door for a broom. He spotted her. With the first swipe across his stoop, he said, “I’m closed, miss.”
Tabitha could see a counter and tables and chairs through the windows. It was a restaurant. She clutched her purse and lunch sack together in front of her and asked him the question on her mind. “It’s almost the lunch hour. Isn’t this the busiest part of the day?”
He stopped sweeping and inspected her before replying, “My wife is sick. I need to go see ’bout her.”
“Are you the only cook?”
“This is my place.”
“You’re Hank?”
His eyes narrowed. He was losing patience with her. “I just said it’s my place.”
“What if you didn’t have to close?”
Hank started sweeping again. “Young lady, you holdin’ me up.”
“I’m...” She gathered her courage to face possible rejection again. “I’m a cook, a good one, and I need work.”
His eyes settled into hers. “I’m not looking for help.”
“It’s obvious you should be, sir.”
His brows knit together ferociously. She could see he was not a man who liked to be told what he needed.
“Forgive me. You said your wife is sick. And I don’t know you, but I have a sense about people. This is not an isolated sickness. Your wife is not well in general.”
He regarded Tabitha now, letting his eyes inspect her in a way he hadn’t before when he was trying to dismiss her as a pesky fly. “What makes you say that?”
“You carry it in your face, in your movements... I see the burden.” Tabitha stepped closer, just enough to close the gap in their knowin’. “If you had help, you could spend more time with your wife.”
Her words stirred his thoughts, but then he shook his head. “If I was going to take on some help, I wouldn’t want a woman.”
Now it was her who regarded him. “May I ask why?”
“’Cause don’t nothing come in here but rough men. A man would be easier to deal with.”
“I need you to give me a chance. I have three children and their father is dead. All I know how to do is cook.”
“That ain’t no reason for me to get myself tied up with a young gal in here.”
“I grew up with brothers. I can handle myself.”
He grunted. “You sound too educated to be able to handle anything.”
“I’m most educated about farming and preparing a meal. Please, let me fix lunch. Test me... for free.”
He sighed, long and bothered—thought about it for what felt like hours to Tabitha. Sweat beaded on her temples along her hairline as she waited.
Finally, he said, “I’m probably going to wish I held to my no, but you come at ten tomorrow, and I’ll let you cook the midday meal.”
Tabitha contained the joy enough to keep herself from leaping at him and hugging his neck.
He raised a hand and shook his finger at her. “I don’t want no youngins underfoot.”
“No, sir. I have help.”
Without a goodbye, he stepped inside the door and closed it. That closed door was the open door Tabitha needed. She looked up at the sky and whispered, “Thank you, Jesus.”
The next day, Tabitha arrived at nine thirty and waited for Hank. Once inside, she was given the space to work. The meat for the day was chicken. She decided on a chicken bog because she grew up on boggy rice and cooked it best. She boiled the chicken in garlic, pepper, basil, and onion, and once it was done, she pulled the meat into strips and seasoned it some more. After an hour of going in and out of the pantry and icebox, the kitchen smelled of her success.
By eleven thirty, the men came in from the docks, noisy and hungry. Hank had just lifted his face from the bowl she’d given him. Tables filled, and Hank took the food she dished and served it to men, table by table, collecting his money along the way. Tabitha held her breath in anticipation of their satisfaction. As they ate, she asked Hank, “Why are we only serving one thing?”
“Because it’s easy for one person to do. Most of these men don’t have no wife. They eat what I cook and don’t complain on it. This is the best meal they get all day.” He put his bowl and spoon in the sink.
When they were done, some of the men told Hank they knew he didn’t cook and that he should hire Tabitha right away. They ate fast and left just as quickly. Within two hours, the restaurant was empty again.
“You are hired,” Hank said. “You can work four days, and I’ll pay you a dollar a day.”
Joy filled her heart so that she had to fight crying in front of him. Though they would be tears of happiness and relief, men didn’t like cryin’ women. She’d already had to get him to overlook her being a woman.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Hank grunted like he wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but he extended his hand for Tabitha to shake. “It’s a trial basis—week by week.”
She shook his hand and went into the kitchen to clean up.
The next day, Tabitha came in ready to take over Hank’s kitchen. Salt pork and okra were on the counter in the kitchen. Hank’s old woodstove was burning hot. Two large pots of lima beans were already cooking.
“Lima beans, okra, salt pork. I cooks it every Wednesday. They like it fine.”
Tabitha nodded and got to work chopping the okra and onion to add once the beans were ready.
“I have an idea,” she said.
“Already?” Hank asked.
Tabitha smiled. “I think it might be more efficient if we had the men form a line to the counter rather than take the bowls to the table.”
Hank frowned. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, for one, I won’t be passing their tables and tempting them to be ungentlemanly, and two, it’ll save you and me walking back and forth. I noticed your knee was bothering you at the end yesterday.”
“Where you get this idea?” Hank grumbled, moving his weight from his left to the right knee as if it pained him already.
“That’s the way I served the dinner meal at the store I worked in.”
Hank rubbed his hand over his head. “I would think you would do things my way the first day.”
“I will do whatever you want. These are your customers. It’s only a suggestion, sir.”
Hank grunted. “I shouldna hired you, but since I did, I guess I gots to treat you like I would my daughter. We can try it.” Hank pushed the front door open and walked outside.
Tabitha smiled and went back to her cooking.
At the end of the week, Tabitha stepped onto the railcar with four dollars in her pocket. She would be able to pay her rent and the care for her children. Her heart was full. That night when she pushed her head into her pillow, she thanked God for blessing her.