“Would you like to go with me when they’re showing one you’d like to see? Afterward, we can critique it to see if it’s as good the book.”
Kayana couldn’t believe her good luck. She’d spent more than half her life in Atlanta and at no time had she met anyone who liked books as much as she did; now, within the span of a week, she’d encountered three people who were avid readers. “Can you take a photo of the flyer and send it to my cellphone? Once I look it over, I’ll let you know.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thanks.” She paused. “I’m going to ring off now because I have to be up early tomorrow morning.”
“Good night, Kayana.”
“Good night, Graeme.”
She ended the call and palmed the phone. Kayana did not think of his asking her to accompany him to the movie theater in Shelby as a date, because it wasn’t. With Cherie and Leah, she would read and discuss books, while with Graeme, she would view a film and subsequently compare it to the book. This was her third summer since she’d moved back to Coates Island, and she predicted it was to become quite memorable.
Chapter 6
Kayana opened the door at the rear of the restaurant for Cherie and Leah. Both were wearing rain slickers. It had been raining steadily for three days, and the dreary weather appeared to affect everyone who came into or worked in the restaurant. Those who did come in lingered longer than necessary.
“Come on in,” she urged, stepping back to keep from getting wet. A tropical storm was parked off the coast, and the increase in wind velocity blew the rain sideways.
Leah slipped out of her rain gear and hung it on a wall hook, and then handed Kayana a canvas tote. “This is definitely weather for ducks.”
Cherie set a bag with several bottles of wine on the floor before shrugging off a candy-apple-red slicker. “I like rain, but this is a bit much for me. I hope it doesn’t rain so much that the island floods and we are forced to evacuate.”
“We’re in tropical storm and hurricane season, and being so close to the ocean, we can get a lot of rain. Fortunately, many hurricanes don’t make landfall near here. Although we have the dunes, most of the structures located closer to the beach are erected above the ground,” Kayana explained as she led them into the kitchen.
Leah sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”
“I told you not to buy the ingredients for a charcuterie, because with this weather we need something hot and more substantial.”
“What did you make?” Cherie asked as she set bottles of red, white, and rosé on a butcher block table.
“Chili with corn muffins.”
Cherie pumped her fist. “Hot damn! I may have to check out of the boardinghouse and move in with you just to eat. And I don’t mind working for my keep,” she said, smiling.
Lifting the lid on the pot on the stove, Kayana slowly stirred the chili with a wooden spoon. “My apartment has two bedrooms, and I’ve turned the extra one into a reading room.”
“Is that where we’re going to hold our book discussion tonight?” Leah asked.
Kayana was slightly taken aback by Leah’s query. She’d planned for them to eat in the restaurant’s dining room, followed by talking about the book. But when she thought about it, the room was the perfect place for a small gathering. “Yes.”
Resting a hip against a countertop, Cherie met Kayana’s eyes. “Are you looking for a roommate? There’re some folks at the boardinghouse that bug the hell out of me. Whenever we sit down for breakfast, there’s a couple who can’t stop arguing. I’m so tempted to tell them to shut the hell up, but I know that would start something, and I’d probably get evicted.”
“I’m sorry, Cherie, but I’m not looking for a roommate.”
The young woman shrugged her shoulders. “I had to ask.”
Kayana had been forthcoming when she told Cherie she didn’t want a roommate, because she had come to value her privacy. She got up and went to bed whenever she wanted, and she loved not having any intrusions or distractions when reading or watching television.
“I have an extra bedroom in my bungalow,” Leah said, “so if you really get tired of staying at the boardinghouse, you’re welcome to it.”
Cherie gave the redhead a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Thanks for offering, but I believe I can put up with their bitchin’ a little while longer. If they truly get on my last nerve, I’ll let you know.”
Kayana hoped she wasn’t imagining it, but she still detected a modicum of hostility between the two women. “I already set up the table in the dining room . . .”
Her words trailed off when the rear door opened and her brother walked in. Derrick rarely returned to the restaurant after they closed on Sundays. That was his time to stay home, kick back, and watch his favorite sports teams. After living in New York, he’d become an avid Mets fan, because North Carolina did not have a professional baseball team. However, he’d refused to switch his loyalty from the Carolina Panthers and Hornets to New York football and basketball teams.
“Did you forget something?” she asked Derrick.
Derrick slipped off the rain poncho and hung it on the wall hook with the other rain gear. “No. I came in to get a jump on prepping some meat for the smoker because the Mets game was rained out.”
Kayana saw Leah and Cherie staring at Derrick, and realized it was something she’d noticed whenever women looked at her brother. However, Derrick always appeared totally oblivious to the opposite sex, even though many women were drawn to his tall, toned body and his premature cropped gray hair, which contrasted with a smooth mahogany complexion. And once he smiled, the overall effect was mesmerizing, as a matched set of dimples creased his lean jaw.
The one time she’d asked Derrick if he was ready to date again after he’d been widowed for a couple of years, he’d claimed his plate was full working at the restaurant and taking care of Deandra, and she wondered if his excuse would be the same when his daughter went off to college. And he’d talked about Graeme staring at her with his tongue hanging out, but it was no different with Leah. The woman was married with two adult sons, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off Derrick.
“Leah, Cherie, I don’t know if you’ve met my brother, but—”
“We’ve met,” Leah said, cutting her off.
Derrick nodded. “Ladies, I promise not to get in your way, so please don’t mind me.”
“I’m almost finished here, and we’re going into the dining room to eat before going upstairs for our book discussion,” Kayana said.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Leah asked.
Kayana opened the oven to check on the mini corn muffins. They were golden brown. She took the pan out of the oven. “These are done.” She made quick work of removing the muffins from the tin, gave the plate to Leah, and then ladled chili into a large soup tureen and handed that off to Cherie.
Ten minutes later, they sat at a cloth-covered table, eating buttery corn muffins and a thick rich chili topped with chopped raw onions and shredded sharp cheddar cheese; it had just enough heat to tantalize their palates. They’d decided the red wine would go better with the meal, and between sips of the merlot, the three women concentrated on eating rather than talking. There would be time later to talk ad nauseum about their chosen title.
Leah reached for another muffin. “I grew up eating cornbread and muffins, but these are better than the ones my mama made.”
Kayana smiled at her across the table. “I thought I’d change it up with the muffins because we usually serve hush puppies with chili.” Earlier that afternoon she’d chopped onions and grated cheese as toppings for the chili, though it would take her a while to become familiar with the food preferences of her book club buddies. She’d also seasoned the ground meat with finely minced jalapeño peppers to add a dash of heat to the dish.
Cherie touched the napkin to the corners of her mouth. “Damn, Kayana, you really can burn some pots.”
“Should I take that to mean s
he’s a good cook?” Leah asked.
Cherie stared at Leah as if she’d spoken a language she didn’t understand. “You’ve never heard that expression?”
A slight flush darkened Leah’s pale face. “Not really.”
“When you talk about someone burning pots, you’re giving them a compliment that they’re a good cook.”
Leah nodded. “Now I know.”
Cherie chuckled softly. “Hang out with us homegirls and you’ll become more familiar with a lot of our vernacular.”
Leah took a sip of her wine. “I’m of the belief that you never get too old to learn new things.”
“How many girls are enrolled at your school?” Kayana asked Leah.
“Last count we had an enrollment of two hundred eighty-six.”
“How many of them are black?” Cherie questioned.
“Twenty-two.”
Cherie exchanged a glance with Kayana. “That’s less than ten percent.”
“That’s only because the yearly tuition is comparable to some private colleges,” Leah explained. “However, we do offer scholarships, but there is a lengthy wait-list. Most of our girls who graduate go on to many of the top colleges in the country.”
Kayana noticed Leah said “our girls” as if she’d claimed them as her own. “That’s because their daddies pay the big bucks to get them in.”
Leah lowered her eyes. “I’m not going to lie and say endowments don’t play a major factor, but they still have to have the grades.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it, Leah,” Cherie spat out. “It’s the ones on scholarship who have to maintain the grades.”
Leah went completely still as she glared at Cherie. “That’s why they’re on scholarship. Because it’s all about the grades.”
“Tell me about it,” Cherie said under her breath.
Kayana immediately picked up on Cherie’s statement. “Did you attend college on scholarship?”
Cherie took a long sip of her wine, staring at Kayana over the rim. “Yes. I attended an elite prep school on scholarship and then went to a private college on a full academic scholarship.”
Sitting back in her chair, Leah angled her head as she met Cherie’s eyes. “You must be very smart.”
“If you say so.”
Kayana frowned. “Why are you downplaying your intelligence, Cherie? If you’ve got it, then flaunt the hell out of it.”
Touching the napkin to the corners of her mouth, Cherie flashed a wry smile. “I was a lot smarter than many of the kids in my graduating class, but it didn’t matter. They still related to me as the poor little black girl from public housing.”
“Being black and living in public housing didn’t appear to hold you back,” Kayana said.
A beat passed before Cherie said, “It took me a while to realize that it didn’t matter how smart I was. I would always be an outsider.”
“I don’t think race had anything to do with you being an outsider,” Leah countered.
“How would you know?” Cherie snapped angrily.
“I know, because I was one of those outsiders. I was the first one in my family to go to college, and the girls at Vanderbilt avoided me as if I was carrying a communicable disease once they found out that I’d spent the first nine years of my life living in a trailer park before my folks saved enough money to rent a small apartment. It didn’t matter to them that I’d graduated high school at fifteen and was on full academic scholarship with a 4.0 grade-point average, because to them I’d never be more than white trash.”
“Boo hoo, Leah,” Cherie drawled facetiously. “Don’t expect me to start playing a violin because you grew up in a trailer park. The difference between us is that I had two strikes against me—race and poverty, while you only had the latter. And judging from the diamonds on your hand, you appear to have done quite well for yourself.”
Splaying her left hand on the tablecloth, Leah stared at the diamond-encrusted eternity band on her finger. “Marrying well isn’t everything.”
“Amen,” Kayana whispered.
She had married a prominent Atlanta-based surgeon and had a glamorous life, but if she had to do it all over again, she wouldn’t have given Dr. James Hudson a passing glance. However, James wasn’t one to accept rejection when he’d embarked on a scheme to wear her down. He’d had flowers delivered to her office, along with greeting cards that made her laugh until she finally agreed to go out to dinner with him. There was one thing James did not lack, and that was charm, and after a while he’d literally charmed her out of her panties. The first time she slept with him, she knew she wanted him to be the last man in her life. Less than a year after their first date, Kayana married James in what had been billed as the wedding of the season for Atlanta’s black elite.
“Are you saying you didn’t marry well?” Cherie asked Leah.
“I’m not saying that,” the redhead countered, “but you should be careful what you wish for. I didn’t want a repeat of what my mother had with my father, pinching pennies and going to thrift shops to buy clothes for her kids, but I’ve had to put up with bullshit from my mother-in-law for years; she’s reminded me every day since I married her son that I wasn’t her first choice as a daughter-in-law.”
“Is she still alive?”
Leah nodded. “She just celebrated her eighty-sixth birthday. Last year, she moved into an upscale assisted-living facility several miles from Richmond, so thankfully I don’t get to see her as often as I did in the past.”
“Why haven’t you told the old crow to fuck herself?” Cherie drawled.
Leah laughed softly. “I would have a long time ago, but her grandsons worship the very ground she walks on.”
Kayana’s laughter joined Leah’s. “It does make a difference when you have children. There was a time when I couldn’t wait to become a mother, but when it didn’t happen, I realized I’d been given a pass.”
Cherie gave her a wide-eyed stare. “You didn’t want kids?”
Kayana shook her head. “I couldn’t have any.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t your husband that couldn’t make a baby?” Leah asked.
She paused, contemplating how much she wanted to disclose to the two women she still regarded more as strangers than acquaintances. But then, when she thought of it, she realized she’d revealed things about her family to Graeme that she hadn’t to any other restaurant guest. Why, she mused, had she felt the need to open up to strangers when she’d never done it in the past? However, she had to remember that the women in her Atlanta social circle weren’t ones she felt comfortable enough to relate to as confidants. Many of them were friends of James who’d become her so-called associates. They were native Atlantans who’d grown up together, many attending private historically black colleges, while she was a North Carolina transplant who’d attended and graduated from Spelman College and the University of Georgia.
“I got pregnant early in my marriage but lost the baby in the first trimester. The doctors couldn’t stop the bleeding, so when I woke up in the recovery room, I was told that I would never be able to have another child.”
“Why didn’t you adopt?” Cherie asked.
A wry smile twisted Kayana’s mouth. “Initially my ex and I talked about adoption, but after a while we decided having a child or children didn’t prevent us from being a family.”
Leah’s eyelids fluttered. “How long were you married before your divorce?”
“It was several months before our nineteenth anniversary when I discovered he was sleeping with another woman and gotten her pregnant.”
Cherie’s jaw dropped. “Did you know who she was?”
Kayana nodded. “Yes. She was one of his colleagues.”
“It doesn’t bother you that your husband cheated on you with another woman?” Leah asked.
“It bothered me that I didn’t find out about the two-faced heifer sooner than I did,” Kayana countered. “As they say, the wife is always the last to know.”
Resting her el
bows on the table, Leah leaned closer. “Did you confront her?”
Kayana shook her head. “Hell no! I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of lowering my standards to fight over a man. My grandmother told me, when I was a little girl, that a man is like a train—there is always one leaving the station. The only thing I’m going to say is that if he cheated on me, then he will cheat on her.”
Cherie breathed out an audible sigh. “I suppose I should count myself lucky that I’m not married.”
“Not all cheating ends in divorce.” Leah’s voice rose slightly with her fervent declaration.
Kayana wondered if the redhead was gloating or overcompensating, hoping it was the former, because as an intern she’d counseled many women who’d professed to having perfect marriages or relationships, while their husbands and partners were either cheating or verbally or physically abusing them. “True,” she said. “But I don’t believe in staying in what I think of as a toxic relationship, because I refuse to allow myself to be diminished.”
Cherie applauded. “Good for you. No man on the face of the earth is worth a woman losing her self-respect.”
Leah peered over the rim of her wineglass at Cherie. “It sounds as if you’re speaking from experience.”
“I am. I gave a man more years of my life than he deserved, and in the end, I wound up the loser.”
“He married someone else?” Leah questioned.
Cherie nodded. “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe you need to talk about it, if only to get it off your chest.”
“Let it go, Leah,” Kayana cautioned her. “We’re supposed to be talking about books and not discussing our personal lives.”
Leah lowered her eyes. “You’re right.” She pantomimed zipping her lips. “From now on, it’s all about books. I have to confess that I didn’t know what to expect when I first started rereading Kindred.”
“Did you enjoy it?” Kayana asked Leah.
“I found it disturbing.”
“You found it disturbing, while I hated it,” Cherie countered.
Kayana’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Well, it looks as if we’re going to have an interesting discussion. Once we finish eating, we can go upstairs and have our first official book club meeting.”
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