The funny thing
is, Blanche had just been thinking that her life had finally settled
down. It's been three years since she had to grab the kids and scurry
out of Farleigh, North Carolina. Now they've all settled into life
in the Roxbury section of Boston, and Blanche herself is feeling
like she may finally be free to enjoy life -- at least a little.
But before Blanche
can say, "Breakfast is ready," she gets suckered into
standing in as cook-housekeeper to one Allister Brindle, a Boston
Brahmin politician, and his do-gooder wife. Blanche is quickly enmeshed
in a festering canker of scandal that moves from the Brindles' house
(a.k.a. Prozac House) to her own black community as she tries to
figure out the truth behind the swimming-pool death of a young black
man who knew a little too much.
With life suddenly
getting just a bit too interesting on both the home and
work fronts, Blanche finds herself dealing with a love triangle
with bent angles, teen pregnancy, phony spirituality, environmental
skulduggery, homophobia, a letter she wishes she hadn't read, a
friend whose life she might have saved, and at least one person
who doesn't mean her any good.