The Davenports (The Davenports, #1)

by Krystal Marquis

“Tragedy in Springfield?” Mr. Lawrence asked. “For three days, Black businesses were destroyed and Black residents burned alive in their homes,”

“Surely, more can be done.” Mrs. Davenport’s smile froze. She glanced at Mr. Lawrence, but Olivia pretended not to see. She couldn’t be the only person at this table who realized how removed they were from the news Washington DeWight had laid at their feet.

Leave it to the politicians and activists, he’d said. His words hung in the air, pressing down on her shoulders.

if she hadn’t fallen in love with the weight of the wrench in her hand, the smell of oil, the feeling of accomplishment after building something with her own hands. Olivia called it soreness, that ache in Helen’s muscles after crawling out from under a carriage or automobile. Helen didn’t know how to describe it, but she knew no new dress or party could make her so happy.

He doesn’t want us to be special. He wants us, Black people with wealth, education, and opportunities, to be common. In the best sense of the word.”