You 'accept' the invitation.

"Excellent. You have pluck, and courage. I always keep that in mind when I'm buying animals -- you can tame a wild one, but you can't give them spirit. I've read enough plantation diaries to know there's nothing worse than a lazy colored girl."

"I don't like the world "colored", I replied. The truth of the matter was that I am conflicted about this offer, and even the words she uses while offensive are evoking feelings that I am not comfortable with.

"Bless your heart! I'm just trying to be historically accurate, dear. I can use another word if you prefer."

There was an awkward silence as I stared her down. Neither of us spoke, and I refused to break her gaze. Just when I think Margaret is beginning to accept me as her equal, I realize just how wrong I am.

"It would be fun breaking you," she finally said. Perhaps my years of failed marriage were worth something after all, because I could feel my hackles rising. There was no way I was going to let someone else take control of my life. Not even a woman as striking and intriguing as this.

"Try, and I'll break your neck, I replied, sick of her barely disguised racism.

"Like I said, you have spirit. Like a horse. I like spirit. Here, let me show you something. Come here, girl."

I stiffened but followed her over to a section with old medical and scientific antiques. I watched her open a cabinet drawer and take out a small black bottle no bigger than my thumb. "This bottle was the latest technology used by confederate medics during the War of Northern Aggression. Look, there is still some of the liquid inside." Sure enough, she poured a little of the clear liquid onto a thick cotton handkerchief. "You can still smell it, here." Margaret lifted the white square to my nose, and I found myself leaning forward, curious to see if there really was any remaining essence from over 150 tears ago. To my surprise, she spun around and held a handkerchief against my face.

I tried to pull away, but was too dizzy to resist. She held it against my face. "That's it... breathe deeply. Let Mistress Margaret take care of everything, just like the old days."

By the time she removed the handkerchief from my face I could barely stand. The colors in the room were blurring. Margaret put down the cloth, supporting me as I swayed and continued on with her history lesson as I struggled to think. "It turns out that the same liquid was used by **** hunters who traveled up North to track down run-a-way slaves and bring back where they belong."

"What's happening..."

"Nothing for you to tax your little brain with, dear. If you'll just accompany me in the back room, there's a couch you can lay down on."

I struggled to stand and not knock anything over as Margaret closed the store. I leaned on her as I made my way to the back room.