by Pat Simmons
Once they were inside his car, she demanded an autograph. “Seriously, you do know I only read the book. I didn’t write it.” He chuckled.
“But you read it to me”—she patted her chest and lifted her chin—“so that makes it special.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Before he started the engine, he took the book and retrieved a pen from his glove compartment and scribbled I’m only a prince because I’ve found my princess. He dated it and signed Love, Marcus.
When he gave it back to her, she clutched the book as if it were worth millions. If it was a sentimental moment for her, it was colossal for him.
Too soon, they arrived in their neighborhood. Standing outside Tabitha’s front door, Marcus smiled at her whimsical expression, which made her look as if she was in a daze. Was his childish gimmick the highlight of her night? It wouldn’t be for long, as Marcus gently guided her lips to his and kissed her until they both gasped for air.
Chapter 30
“I can’t wait to meet Tabitha!” Sylvia Whittington gushed from her perch in the back seat of Marcus’s car.
Marcus had just picked up his parents from Lambert Airport for their biannual visit to St. Louis. They always reserved a week or so in August; the other week was for another time of the year.
“You’re going to have to put that on hold, hon,” his father said from the front passenger seat. “First stop, White Castle.”
“John Whittington, I can’t believe you can still stomach those sour onion burgers,” his mother scolded, entertaining Marcus with their lighthearted banter.
His father stood at six three and had a distinguished appearance, with his white hair and mustache. He worked out and was in great shape for his late sixties. Silver hair never looked more elegant on a woman than his mother. She was still stunning at sixty-five, with a dab of red lipstick and no other cosmetics. Their marriage was exemplary, and Marcus wanted to copy it.
Married for thirty-nine years, the couple never ceased acting like boyfriend and girlfriend. While growing up, his father called his mother “sweetheart” so much that Marcus and Demetrius had thought that was her name when they were young children. His parents nurtured them in a warm and loving environment, and that’s what Marcus wanted for his own future family.
Exiting off I-170, he drove the opposite direction on Natural Bridge to the closest White Castle. To his mother’s dismay, his father asked for the Castle Pack 9, which contained twenty sliders and four orders of fries.
Marcus didn’t butt in. His dad would consume at least half before the evening was over, maybe sharing a slider or two with his wife. If her husband hinted of a bellyache, she would dutifully pamper him back to good health. That was love. He chuckled to himself.
Releasing the lazy laugh his father was known for, John turned and faced his wife. “Sweetheart, you should talk. You know you’re craving St. Louis fried rice and a St. Paul sandwich.”
“Hmph. You got that right.” She shrugged and glanced out the window. “Whew, with this St. Louis humidity, right now I’m thinking lemonade or a 7-Eleven Slurpee—something cold. Take me back to the North Carolina beaches.” She chuckled.
“I can make a stop for you now, Mom.” When she declined, he headed home. “Would you like to see where Tab—”
“Of course!”
Timing was everything. As he cruised down Roland Drive, his heart pounded at the sight of Tabitha stepping out of her car. The white romper against her dark skin was eye-catching. She looked so youthful. He tapped his horn, and she looked up, a slow smile giving way to a big grin that brightened her face.
He parked, leaving the motor running, and jogged to meet her. Tabitha’s fragrance mingled with the musk of the scorching heat. She had twisted her hair into a ball on top of her head. The style gave her a sophisticated look, like the princess she was. He finished his assessment, then greeted her with his own smile. “Hey, baby.”
“Hi,” she said softly, as much in a trance as he was, then she blinked. “I’ve got to get Aunt Tweet out.”
“Got it.” Marcus took long strides to the other side of the car and assisted her aunt out, then kissed her cheek. He would have been disappointed if Aunt Tweet hadn’t blushed.
“So what are you doing here? I thought your parents were coming to town,” Tabitha said, shielding her eyes from the sun.
As if on cue, his father cut the engine, helped his mother out of the car, and they headed toward them. “They’re here,” he said, chuckling, “but you know I can’t go too long without seeing you.”
“I didn’t want to intrude,” Tabitha said softly, lowering her lashes.
“Oh, you aren’t, dear.” Marcus’s petite mother nudged him aside. “We finally get a chance to meet you.”
“It’s hot,” Aunt Tweet said.
Marcus had forgotten that the elderly struggle to breathe in the terrible air quality caused by the heat. Everyone mumbled their apologies. “Get her inside, babe. I’ll get my parents settled, and we can come back with dinner.”
“If it’s not interfering with your plans, then I’ll make some fresh lemon-limeade and a fruit salad,” Tabitha offered.
Without knowing it, his lady had scored a brownie point with his mother. Sylvia wouldn’t be able to resist Tabitha’s fresh lemonade with lime and strawberries. Marcus’s mouth was watering already. And to think, he teased her about not being a skillful cook. He had been on the receiving end of her and some of her aunt’s dishes. Marcus had no complaints. Taking her hand before she escaped, Marcus smacked a kiss on Tabitha’s lips, then released her.
“She’s pretty, Son,” Sylvia announced—he was sure for Tabitha’s hearing—as they walked away.
He puffed out his chest in pride as he slid behind the wheel. “Yes she is, and with a caring heart.”
“When’s the wedding?” his parents teased almost in unison once they’d all strapped on their seat belts.
“Soon.” He grinned. He didn’t know if he would propose while Aunt Tweet still resided here or after she left to stay with Rachel. If left up to him, a month, tops.
* * *
A day later, Tabitha worked side by side with Marcus’s mother in his kitchen to prepare meat for the men, including Demetrius, to barbecue. Aunt Tweet’s task was to arrange cookies on a platter. Twice, Tabitha had looked the other way when her aunt swiped one of the treats and stuffed it in her purse. There wouldn’t be a third time because Tabitha was ready to put a stop to it. Evidently, nothing got past Sylvia either, who chuckled softly.
Marcus’s mother didn’t come across as a woman who purposely enjoyed intimidating her sons’ girlfriends. She was warm, friendly, and likeable. Marcus had her eyes, but his other features were a copy of Mr. Whittington’s. “Your son is a jewel,” Tabitha confided when there was a lull in their conversation. She doubted another man would have pursued her or stuck around, knowing her situation.
“And you’re his precious stone.” Sylvia’s eyes sparkled. “He talks about you and your aunt all the time. From what he’s told me, you’re doing a great job taking care of her. Trust me, a person can tell when someone is neglected. Your aunt is loved.”
“Thank you for saying that,” Tabitha choked out. She wasn’t expecting high praise. “Marcus has made the difference.”
“Since you work through the week, how about doing a little shopping after church tomorrow?”
“I have Aunt Tweet—”
“She is welcome to come,” Sylvia said before Tabitha could finish. “We’ll visit a few stores, then rest for a cool treat. If she’s not up to it, I’m sure Marcus wouldn’t mind.”
“Mind what?” He walked through the door and squeezed his mother’s shoulder, then wrapped his arms around Tabitha’s waist, peeping over her shoulder.
“Staying with Aunt Tweet for a few hours while Tabitha and I spend some time together shopping.”
“No problem, babe.
” He sealed his commitment with a brush of his lips against Tabitha’s cheek.
The man had no shame in displaying his affections in front of his parents. His father seemed to be amused while his mother appeared pleased by her son’s actions.
Within the hour, they were all relaxing on his veranda off the kitchen, which resembled a gazebo attached to the side of his house. A big willow tree gave them shade, and every now and then, a cool breeze would stir its cascading branches to fan them. The conversation was lively, and even Aunt Tweet chuckled a few times as the Whittingtons relived the antics of their sons, to their protests. Demetrius and Marcus blamed each other for their mischievous adventures. When her aunt began to doze, Tabitha called it a night.
Marcus grabbed his keys. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to make sure the ladies get home okay.”
“Did you forget I drove?” Tabitha asked in a sassy tone.
“Nope.” He rocked on his heels. “I’m trailing to make sure you get into the house safely.”
Everyone laughed, including Tabitha, who couldn’t resist hugging him. “I think it’s sweet,” she murmured as he kissed the tip of her nose.
On Sunday morning, church was a family affair. Besides the senior Whittingtons, Demetrius tagged along. Once seated in the pews, it didn’t take long for Aunt Tweet to hum in unison with the praise singers. A couple of times, she belted out tunes that had been unearthed deep inside of her.
Pastor Nelson had a few remarks before directing the congregation to 1 Corinthians 15:58: “‘My beloved brethren, stand firm and let nothing move you from God’s calling on your life.’ Be encouraged that whatever work you’re doing to honor the Lord isn’t in vain…”
Every sermon seemed to inspire Tabitha to keep pressing on despite the obstacles she faced at home and work. Once the benediction was given, the Whittingtons commented on how the preacher had given them a reminder not to get weary in doing good things for others. A few hours later, Aunt Tweet declined the outing and stayed behind at Tabitha’s house under the watchful eye of Marcus and his father.
During their time together, she had a chance to learn more about Marcus’s mother. Tabitha shared tidbits about her upbringing, career achievements, and goals in life. The conversation switched to questions about Aunt Tweet’s diagnosis.
“If you feel comfortable with me asking,” said Sylvia respectfully.
“Sure.” Tabitha gave Sylvia a recap.
“My son told me you and your sisters had a misunderstanding.”
Tabitha froze and tried not to squint. “What didn’t your son tell you?” She didn’t know how she felt about his mother knowing everything about her.
“When you were hurting, he was hurting, and I happened to call him at a time when I sensed he was sad.” Sylvia offered a faint smile, then rested one of her hands on Tabitha’s shoulder to get her attention. “Trust me, a lot of things I know about my sons are from watching what they do and listening for what they won’t tell me.” She laughed. “Marcus wasn’t forthcoming. I had to pull it out of him, and I’m glad I did, because I’ve been praying for you ever since he told me what you’re doing for your aunt.”
Tabitha relaxed. “My sisters and I have reconciled. This has been very stressful for me—all of us—but I’m learning as I go.”
Sylvia gave her a tight hug like her mother used to give, then stepped back. “I can’t say I know what you’re going through.”
“Marcus didn’t, not at first. I’m so glad he didn’t have me arrested.”
His mother gasped. “What?” Looping her arm through Tabitha’s, Sylvia practically dragged her to a seating area. “He didn’t tell me that part.” She swung one leg over her other leg’s knee and leaned back. “Go. Give me all the details, so I’ll know how much of a beatdown he’ll get from me.”
Judging from Sylvia’s expression, if Marcus were a child, he would be getting a spanking when his mother got home. Tabitha laughed. “God has been my peace at times when I didn’t even understand how I was holding things together. Marcus has been my sanity, and let me just say, every woman needs a Marcus in her life.”
“Since he’s my son, I’ll say amen to that.”
Chapter 31
Tabitha sat in Dr. Phillips’s waiting area, hoping that the physician would see the benefits in prescribing Ceclor to his patients.
Although her sales for Porital and Dyabolin had exceeded her quota by 50 percent, she wouldn’t see that $30,000 bonus if she didn’t reach 100 percent quota with this sinus drug.
In the past, Tabitha thrived on the adrenaline rush of hitting the mark. Ceyle-Norman was no different in their pay structure. This time around, the push was exhausting. If her sales for Ceclor hit 99.99 percent, her bonus would fizzle to $1,300. She’d gotten into this business to make money, not lose it, so it was crunch time.
“Sorry, Tabitha. Dr. Philips will be about another ten minutes,” Shirley, the head nurse, said after peeping her head out the door into the waiting room. “Would you like to come back?”
“Oh, no. I’ll wait.” Even though she had two other doctor visits, she needed Dr. Philips’s commitment to prescribe Ceclor to meet her quota. She would camp out at this otolaryngologist’s office, if needed.
Ten minutes, huh? She needed a distraction to calm her nerves and to keep from gnawing off her lipstick. Checking the time, she guessed Ava Elise would be on her morning break from the new training class, so she texted her friend, who would understand her anxiety.
Busy?
I have a few minutes. What’s going on?
Trying to hit my numbers on Ceclor. I’m at Dr. Philips’s office.
Lol. Then that woman is in trouble. You can do it. Ava Elise had faith in Tabitha from day one despite her meltdowns. Take a deep breath and think happy thoughts about your handsome boyfriend.
Immediately, Tabitha smiled. She would have texted Marcus first, but he’d mentioned meeting with a client that morning. I met his mother. Very nice and sweet lady.
Hmm. Does she have mother-in-law potential?
Tabitha laughed. If Marcus and I reach that point. Definitely.
I hope I get to meet your man before the wedding. BIG hint. Got to get back to class. Remember, this is why you were a senior rep at Pfizer. You know how to make it happen!
Before she could type back, Dr. Philips opened the door and waved Tabitha forward. “Sorry to keep you waiting. My phone conference ran over,” she said, leading the way to her office. Dr. Philips sat behind her desk and folded her hands. “So, I haven’t quite made up my mind about Ceclor. As you know, we see patients with acute and chronic sinusitis after their home treatments have failed them. Our treatment is like a classroom formula: saline nasal irrigation; nasal, oral, or injected corticosteroids; or aspirin desensitization treatment.”
“For your chronic sufferers, that’s a complicated treatment regimen,” Tabitha said, countering, “which is why Ceclor is designed more as a preventive drug, especially if the condition is associated with allergies.”
“Indeed.” Dr. Philips nodded. “The patients who have used the samples haven’t reported any side effects, but I still would like to see more results from clinical studies.”
“I can get you that. Anything else to convince you that Ceclor will help those hard-to-treat patients?” She knew her spreadsheet of pros and cons wasn’t enough.
“Yes, discount coupons for Ceclor and whether most insurance companies will cover it.”
“Although it’s fairly new, United Healthcare, Cigna, and Blue Cross Blue Shield are covering the drug.”
“Very well. I’ll wait for that additional information before making a decision.” Standing, she reached across the desk and shook Tabitha’s hand, signaling an end to their meeting. “I do think Ceyle-Norman has a winner, but I want to make sure.”
On her way back to her car, Tabitha texted Marcus. Whew.
Hard sell.
Is that a yes or no?
A maybe—if I can get information to her ASAP, which will be tonight, because I have two more stops to make.
Bummer. I was hoping for a midweek celebration. Mom had agreed to sit with Aunt Tweet so we could go to dinner. I guess I moved too fast.
Activating her Bluetooth, she called him. “Sorry for the trouble. I’ll definitely need a rain check this time.”
“It doesn’t make sense to let a dinner date go to waste. I want to spend time with you.”
She laughed. “Right. What are you going to do, watch me work?”
“How did ya know?” He laughed harder. “I’ll pick you up by six thirty, then I’ll chauffeur you to a quiet place so you can work or I can help.”
There wasn’t too much she could say to this man for him to take no for answer. Marcus had no idea how bored he would become. “This won’t be a date but punishment.”
“Never with you.”
* * *
If his mother was willing to stay with Aunt Tweet, Marcus wasn’t turning down a free caregiver. Since they were within walking distance of his alma mater, the University of Missouri–St. Louis campus, he planned to sign out a study room at the library, where they could bring in carryout. He also brought his headset to watch a movie on his tablet.
But it didn’t work out as he had planned once he and Tabitha were settled in the room off the main library. He couldn’t bear to watch her tug on her hair, sigh, and grit her teeth. Plus, she hadn’t touched the grilled chicken salad he had gotten for them.
“Babe, tell me what I can do.”
She exhaled and twisted her lips in frustration. “Not much. I’m searching for clinical trial results from our competitors’ drugs for sinusitis.”
He pulled up Google and his fingers hovered over the keyboard. “Give me some keywords and I’ll do a search. If I find something helpful, it will cut down on your frustration.”
Whether it was a challenge or just to amuse him, Tabitha did as he asked. “You can start on clinicaltrials.gov.”