Prologue           Emma stepped off the sidewalk onto the gravel walk next to Iola's house. The beauty shop entrance was on the side of the house and she could see Iola tidying up after her previous customer. She loved going to Iola's to get her hair done because it was very private, only one person at a time and no backups waiting. Iola didn't take just anybody. Her customers were the creme' de la creme' of Durham's Negro society. As quiet as it was kept, there were a few well-off colored families here. Since the war some of the colored businesses had really flourished. Take her Eugene, working for North Carolina Mutual Insurance Company and doing very well, thank you. She didn't even have to work at the nurse's home at Duke Hospital anymore. Even Iola's husband, Emmett was doing well enough for her to pick and choose whose hair she straightened and curled. Of course, if he'd leave gambling and low-life women alone, she wouldn't have to work at all. Her cover up for having a shop on the side of her house, is it pays for Karolyn's piano lessons. But everybody knows what Mrs. Love charges for lessons. Since she's been widowed, she just likes having the children there to fill the big empty house that Mr. Love left her. Iola looked up as the screen door opened. She was a tall, sandy-colored woman with cold black, perfectly trimmed and neatly styled hair with ramrod posture, actually very good looking except for a sort of hawk-like expression in her eyes that didn't create a very pleasant impression.      "Good morning Emma. Come on in." Iola was always glad to see Emma, whom she considered her best friend and one of her few equals. After all, Emma lived in a lovely neat brick house one block up the hill on Second Street and with all the nicely done houses there, hers was the best. Not that Iola was complaining, Emmett took care of her and their two children, Kenneth and Karolyn. He did the best that he could. Emmett wasn't one for doing the way most everday men did things. He had his own way. That's what attracted her to him and made him exciting even after all these years. She didn't know how Emma could stand Eugene's dullness but probably because he was reliable and a good provider. He was also fastidiously clean, which Iola liked in a man. He even helped Emma around the house, which was neat as a pin. It could be because they had no one living with them anymore and no kids.      "This weather is something, isn't it? I hope my hair will hold up through church," Emma said, fanning herself and dabbing her nose with a lace handkerchief.      "It will, I'll make sure of that. I'll give you an upsweep," Iola answered.      "No, don't do that, just curl it tight. Rosellee Johnson's been wearing hers in an upsweep and I stand next to her in the choir. Don't want anyone getting us mixed up."      They both laughed. Iola said, "Who would get you confused with that country bumpkin darkie.      Emma replied, "Well, you have to admit that she has a lovely head of hair. And since her sick husband passed away and she got promoted at the nurse's home, Rosellee's been acting mighty uppity."      Iola was busy preparing the hot combs and curling irons but she stopped and put her hand on one hip and said, "Humph, what promotion? She's straight out of the backwoods. What can she do except clean and empty bedpans?"      Emma sat in the sink chair, "Actually, her mother was a school teacher and she taught her at home on the family farm. They say that's why she speaks so proper. Well, they put her on the switchboard as night operator. I guess it beats cleaning the quarters and you know you find out which doctors are chasing which nurses too." They laughed as Iola adjusted the water.