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“I’m not choosey. But Spoonbread is really good if you like soul food.”
“I know the place, up on One-Sixteen.”
“Yes.”
“Spoonbread it is. My car is right over there,” he said, pointing to the black Mercedes.
Hmm, nice.
He helped her into the car then came around to his side. The passenger seat gently reclined when he turned on the ignition. Hmm, very nice.
They drove the few blocks in an easy silence. The local jazz station 88.3 FM played softly in the background.
“Do you live in the area?” he asked as he searched for a place to park.
“On Morningside. What about you?”
“Further downtown, off Central Park.”
“Have you always lived in New York?”
“Actually, I grew up in Queens.”
“Craziest borough I’ve ever been to,” she scoffed. “Streets make no sense.”
He chuckled. “That’s a common complaint.” He pulled into a space and shut off the car. The seat returned to its fully upright position.
“But you’re not originally from here,” he said, turning to her.
“Born in Jamaica,” she said, putting her accent back in place.
He chuckled. “I’ve never been. I hear it’s beautiful.”
“It can be.” She unfastened her seatbelt.
“Do I detect a note of dissatisfaction?”
“Old news, that’s all.”
“Maybe you’ll tell me about it one day.”
She kept her gaze averted. “Maybe,” she said softly.
They entered the restaurant and were seated shortly thereafter.
“So I understand from one of your co-owners that you’re into real estate.” He looked over the menu.
“Yes. For a while now. It’s a booming business especially here in the city. I’ll have an iced tea,” she said to the waiter who came up to their table.
“Make that two.”
“Would you like to place your food order now?”
“Can you give us a few minutes?” Sterling asked.
“Sure.” The waiter walked away.
“Do you have a specialty?”
“Mostly commercial properties and, over the past few years, brownstones. Those are the really hot items now.”
“I’ve been thinking of buying, but the prices are ridiculous.”
“I know. But they’re beginning to come down. They have to. No one can sell properties they bought just two years ago.” She paused. “Were you thinking of a brownstone or co-op?”
“Actually I’m more of a picket fence, backyard kind of guy. Guess it must be my Queens roots.” He grinned and she noticed the tiny dimple in his right cheek. “And I’m not sure I want to spend my declining years in New York.”
She laughed. “Declining. You have a long way to go, I’m sure.”
“I’ll be fifty in two years. It’s well past time for me to begin planning out the rest of my life.”
“If you’re really interested I’m sure I can connect you with someone who can help with property out of state.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. But for now, I want to spend my pre-declining years getting to know you.”
She felt her face flush. She lowered her gaze to focus on her menu. “So what kind of law do you practice?” she said, changing the subject.
“I’m a criminal defense attorney.”
“That must be hard.”
“It can be, especially if you lose. But now that I’m in private practice I can take on the cases that I want as opposed to the ones forced on me.”
She placed her menu down and looked at him. She drew in a breath and let out what she’d been dying to know. “Can I ask you a legal question…?”
“Sure.”
“When I was sixteen I was sent by my mother to live in the Bishop household. Before the year was out I was married to Terrance Bishop…”
By the time Ann Marie was done explaining her situation they were halfway through their meal. It had taken a lot for her to break her pattern of secrecy and open up to him, but she decided if there was any chance of them making it beyond tonight’s dinner she was going to have to be totally honest, and either he accepted it or he didn’t. All that would have been lost is some time and they both got a meal out of the deal.
Sterling put his fork down and wiped his mouth. He was silent for a long time and Ann Marie began to grow uncomfortable. The center of his brow was a series of tight lines. Maybe it was too much too soon, she thought in retrospect.
“I’d have to do some investigating but I can certainly find out for you,” he said finally. He looked across the table at her. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to tell me all that. I appreciate your honesty.”
“Are you ready to run?”
He grinned. “Tough battle is my middle name. I love a challenge. And you are certainly that, if nothing else.”
She exhaled a soft sigh of relief. “So you think you can help me?”
“I can try, but only if you make me a promise.”
“What kind of promise?”
“That this won’t be the last time I see you and, when I do, it won’t be business related.”
Ann Marie bit back a grin. “I think I can help you with that.”
He raised his half-empty glass of iced tea. “To more…”
She raised hers as well as her brows. “To more what?” she asked softly, leaning forward.
“To more of getting to know each other.”
She touched her glass to his. “To more,” she said.
When Ann Marie arrived at the spa the following afternoon it was with a new attitude. She’d had a wonderful time with Sterling. He was fun, intelligent, handsome and an absolute gentleman. What endeared him the most to her was that he was not turned off by her situation. To her that said a lot about the kind of man that he was. And maybe she was finally growing up, too. It was the first time in years that she’d actually been totally honest with a man about her past. Hopefully, it was the start of something new.
“Hey everybody,” she greeted as she sauntered in, her hundred-watt smile in place.
Barbara looked over Ann Marie’s shoulder. “Anybody see a weepy, fresh-mouth woman about five feet two inches tall?”
Ann Marie gave her a playful shove on the shoulder. “Oh stop. It wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh yes it was,” Stephanie said. “Scared me.” She grinned.
“Feeling better I see,” Elizabeth said, walking up to join the impromptu gathering. “A handsome man wouldn’t have anything to do with it would it?” She winked.
“Maybe,” Ann Marie said, playing coy.
Barbara sat down on the stool by the check-in counter. “Look, Ann, I’m really glad you’re feeling better. But I’m going to say this in front of everyone so that there is no misunderstanding.” She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “We need to be really careful about taking up with clients.” She looked Ann Marie in the eye. “We don’t want this place to get the wrong reputation.”
Ann Marie cocked her hip to the side and the words flew out of her mouth so hard and fast it was difficult to understand anything other than she was pissed off. “What you saying? You t’ink me messing ‘round wit the clients? That me pickin’ dem up like some street walker?”
Barbara held up her palm. “Ann,” she said in a tone one uses with an excitable child. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Well what are ya saying then?”
“Be careful and mindful that’s all.”
“Listen hon,” Elizabeth said, “We’re happy if you’re happy.” She turned her gaze on Barbara. “You didn’t meet him here anyway. Not exactly. So it’s not the same thing.”
Ann Marie huffed and folded her arms.
“That’s all I’m saying,” Barbara added. She stepped up to Ann Marie and put her arm around her tense shoulders. “I hear he’s a lawyer.”
Ann Marie looked up at her. “How did you know that?”
“We looked him up?” Elizabeth beamed.
“Maybe he could help you with your Terrance problem,” Stephanie said.
“You all have this figured out, huh?”
“We thought it would be a good idea. I mean you can always ask him hypothetically, ’cause we know how you are about your personal life,” Barbara said.
“Well for your information, me did tell him. Told him everything.”
“You did?” they echoed in disbelief. First the tears and then true confessions. What next?
Ann Marie nodded.
Barbara had to sit down. “Well, what did he say?”
“Him say he loves a challenge. And…he wants to see me again.” Her smile lit up the room.
“Truth is good for the soul,” Elizabeth said preaching to the choir.
Ann Marie took a seat next to Barbara. “It was scary, you know.” She looked from one face to the next. “It’s easy to keep folks at a distance, not let them get too close.” She lowered her gaze and focused on her Jimmy Choos. “Been that way all my life.” She drew in a breath then looked up. “But something hit me last night. I realized that all the secrets, all the keeping folks at bay had hurt me more than helped. And me tired of hurting all the time,” she added in a whisper.
“It’s gonna be fine, girl,” Stephanie said. “Just wait and see.”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth agreed. “Just wait and see.”
Barbara uh-huhed her response but silently wondered just how fine it would all turn out.
Chapter 7
Wil Hutchinson pulled himself up the steps to his third floor walk-up apartment favoring his left hip. It had been a long day. His mail delivery route took him up and down the rolling hills of upper Manhattan. He sure wasn’t as young and spry as he used to be, he thought ruefully to himself. He’d been a mail carrier for almost thirty years and had watched Harlem change from an oasis for black culture replete with supper clubs, soul-food restaurants, men who sported real hats and women who wore gloves on Sundays—to high-end department stores, super food chains instead of the mom and pop corner store and a steady influx of wealthy white yuppies who saw gold in the historic brownstones.
That was then, he mused, turning his key in the lock. Time changes everything, especially the body. He passed his reflection in the hallway mirror and immediately sucked in his stomach and straightened his back.
He wasn’t a bad looking man. Most women thought him to be handsome. But he’d put on the pounds and, years without a real woman to please, he’d let himself go. His days consisted of work and his evenings of keeping an eye on his teenaged son, Chauncey. Wil had big plans for his son. Next year he would be in college. He’d saved most of his life to ensure that he’d had the funds available to pay for Chauncey’s education. But he’d also taught his son about the value of hard work and that making one’s way in the world was how he would get to be a real man.
Wil set down his backpack on the kitchen table and looked up at the clock above the fridge. His son should be walking through the door any minute from his job at the Schomburg. He’d been working at the historic library since he was old enough to get working papers. The pay wasn’t great but it helped and Wil made sure that Chauncey saved more than he spent.
He was just about to get an iced cold beer when he heard the front door open.
“Dad, you home?” Chauncey yelled out.
Wil shook his head and laughed. They’d been roommates for the past ten years since his mother walked out on them and never a day passed that Chauncey didn’t yell the same question. It was almost as if he was afraid that one day he’d come home and his dad would be gone, too.
“In here, son.”
Chauncey came bounding in the kitchen, all six-foot-two-inches of him. Every time Wil looked at his son he was amazed that he’d been part of creating such a good looking boy. Chauncey had never been plagued with adolescent acne. His skin was still smooth and clear with red undertones highlighting his bronze complexion, a throwback to his American Indian ancestry. But it was his eyes that captured the attention of everyone who met him, they were a light brown, the color of sweet tea and when the mood hit them, they turned a deep green.
“How was your day?” Wil asked, taking the beer and twisting of the top. He’d taken two long swallows before Chauncey could respond.
