Unexpected Interruptions

by Trice Hickman

  It would be YFI’s first “elaborate” affair in the organization’s eleven-year history. Victoria had been planning the event for the better part of a year, and it was shaping up to be a winner. Many of Tyler’s fraternity brothers were buying tables and selling tickets. The Singles’ Ministry at Victoria’s church had purchased a table, as had two members from her Black Business Women’s Coalition group. Through her father’s connections, John had arranged for his friend’s nephew, Gary Hicks, the star point guard for the Atlanta Hawks, to serve as the keynote speaker for the event. Victoria knew that an NBA star’s name on the ticket was sure to draw a crowd. She had already chosen everything from the decorations in the ballroom to a delectable menu of culinary perfection.

  She was reviewing the list of donated items for the fundraiser’s silent auction when the doorbell rang. She hobbled back downstairs and made it to the door. When she looked through the peephole and saw a delivery man holding a large basket, she thought he must have the wrong address. Slowly, she opened the door.

  “Delivery for Victoria Small,” the man said.

  Victoria looked happy and puzzled at the same time. “This is for me?”

  After the delivery man helped her bring the large basket inside, she examined its wine and Godiva chocolate-filled contents. “My favorites!” she smiled. She opened the attached envelope and read the note inside. . . Hope this makes you smile. Get well soon . . . Ted.

  “This man is too much,” Victoria said out loud. She picked up the phone and dialed his cell.

  It was late afternoon and Ted was wrapping up a meeting with the directors of the engineering and supply chain departments. It was the first opportunity he’d had all day to check his cell phone messages. He was delighted when he heard Victoria’s voice ring loud and bright into his ear.

  Thanks so much for the basket of goodies—you’re so sweet. You really didn’t have to do this. Um, anyway, thanks again and I hope your meetings go well. And oh yeah, I’m smiling.

  After listening to her message, he found himself smiling too.

  Send Him Fast...

  The sun was just going down when Victoria’s next-door neighbor, Ms. Swanson, came by to check on her. Ms. Swanson was a silver haired, seventy-year-old widow who flitted around the neighborhood like the Energizer bunny’s twin. She had a wicked sense of humor and a heart big enough to fill the Grand Canyon. When Victoria first moved in a year ago, it was Ms. Swanson who had come over with a chicken casserole to welcome her to the neighborhood. She’d anointed herself Victoria’s surrogate grandmother.

  “Ms. Swanson, how are you?” Victoria smiled . . . “and how are you, Caroline?” she asked flatly, greeting them at the door. She always felt uncomfortable when she addressed the old lady’s dog. Not because Caroline was a five-pound Yorkie decked out in pink hair bows, pink nail polish, and a rhinestone studded collar, but because the canine was a dog with attitude, and a bad attitude at that.

  “I wanted to come by and bring you these,” Ms. Swanson said, handing Victoria a Ziploc bag. “Here, honey, they’re macadamia nut cookies.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Swanson, would you like to come in? I can put on some tea.”

  Caroline shook her little head and yelped out a small bark. She was ready to go!

  “No, I’ve got to walk Caroline. You know how she can be when she’s ready for her walk,” Ms. Swanson smiled. “I just wanted to drop these off and make sure you’re doing all right since your accident.” She started to turn around, but then stopped. “Are you dating that handsome devil with the fancy car who brought you home last Saturday?”

  This was the only thing about Ms. Swanson that grated on Victoria’s nerves, she was nosy as hell! Ms. Swanson knew the lowdown on everyone on their street, and could write a tell-all book from the scuttlebutt she’d accumulated over the years. Victoria shook her head. “No, Ms. Swanson. He’s a friend from work. Remember? I told you when you called to check on me that evening.”

  “Oh, that’s right, you did say that. Well, it’s time for you to start having gentlemen callers again. It’s been over a year since you broke up with that other fellow.”

  Caroline looked at Victoria, raised her cotton candy-colored paw, and yelped out another small bark. Victoria shot her a dirty look that quieted the pooch.

  “I know you’re going to tell me that it’s none of my business, and that an old lady like me should stay out of yours, but you remind me of my granddaughter. She’s a career woman too, and she’s by herself just like you.”

  Ms. Swanson reached out and patted Victoria’s hand. “Everyone needs a little companionship, honey.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Swanson. I’m working on that.”

  As Victoria watched the old lady and her dog stroll down the street, she thought about her mother’s words—someone to come home to at night, someone she could count on.

  That night as she lay alone in her bed, she said a prayer that was becoming a habit. “Lord, if it’s not too much to ask again, can you please send me a good man . . . and send him fast?”

  Go Your Own Way . . .

  The next day Victoria called her father. Their relationship had been strained the first year after she’d left the bank, but slowly they’d been trying to patch things up. She’d finally come to her senses and decided that she would accept the money John had been offering her to cover start-up costs for Divine Occasions. But she still intended to finish her business plan because she liked having a roadmap to chart her course.

  Just as with Steven, she’d been more angry with herself than she’d been with her father. She’d given in to his demands to please him, then blamed him for her inability to stand up for what she really wanted. With her new-found attitude, Victoria decided it was time to bury the hatchet and lay the childish grudge she’d been holding to rest. She held the phone tight as she dialed his number. John answered on the third ring.

  “Hey, Daddy. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Hi, Queen,” John said with surprise. “No, your timing is perfect. I just finished up a meeting at the bank and now I’m headed out to lunch. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Um, Daddy, I’m calling to apologize for the way I’ve acted,” Victoria began. “The things I’ve said to you and the way I’ve behaved over the years . . . you didn’t deserve all that.” There was a brief silence. She knew that she’d caught him off guard, and even though she couldn’t see him, she knew her father was shaking his head, smiling on the other end.

  “Queen, I can’t fault you, after all, you inherited my stubborn streak.” John chuckled. “I guess it’s my turn to apologize. I was wrong to push you in the direction I wanted you to go, like my father did with me.”

  John let out a deep breath. “Growing up, my family had a lot more than most black folk during those times. We had money, land, and even investments. My father was a smart, industrious man, and one of only a handful in our town who had a college degree, black or white. But his education still couldn’t get him the white collar job he wanted, so he put his schooling to use in a different way, buying land and growing a thriving tobacco business. Yes, he was successful, but he thought the tobacco fields and hard labor his money came from somehow tainted his wealth. Don’t get me wrong, your grandfather was proud of what he’d accomplished. His success was unheard of for a black man in the segregated south, and believe me, he caught hell for it. But he wanted more for me, just as I wanted more for you. I didn’t understand the importance of letting you go your own way. My father pushed me and I thought it was my duty to do the same for you,” he told his daughter.

  Until now, Victoria had never known what had driven that side of her father’s incessant behavior. She’d just assumed that he didn’t understand her, and didn’t want to try. She was glad he’d finally opened up. After their conversation ended, she hung up the phone feeling grateful; grateful for her father’s love, and grateful that she was growing.

  Chapter Ten

  He’s A Smooth One...

 
; Victoria’s week had gone by fast, and tonight she was buried in work. Several business books were scattered across the table where she sat in the Emory University Library. She was in the stacks, and on Friday nights it was quiet there, like having the entire building to herself. When she started to yawn she knew that it was time to leave. She’d been there for almost three hours. She was closing her book when she felt someone standing over the table. She looked up and had to catch her breath. It was him!

  She’d been thinking about him ever since their chance encounter at The Cheesecake Factory two weeks ago, and then seeing him while sitting at the stoplight last week. His smile had appeared to her in more dreams than she could remember, his lips had kissed her a thousand times, and his arms had held her through nights of peaceful slumber. Now she had to blink hard to figure out if she had just fallen asleep and he’d slipped into her dream, or if she was awake and this was God’s good grace in action. When he touched her shoulder she knew her prayers had been answered.

  “Hi,” he smiled.

  Victoria was frozen, not saying a word but still gazing up at him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his face showing concern.

  “Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’ve just been reading for hours. It can bog down the brain,” she finally managed to say.

  “It’s good to see you again,” he smiled. The concern was gone and now all she could see was a set of perfect white teeth and glorious dimples.

  “Thank you . . . it’s good to see you too,” Victoria smiled back.

  He was holding a large book under his arm along with several issues of National Geographic. “Do you mind if I have a seat?”

  Victoria cleared away her books to make room for him at the small table. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel nervous at all. That night in the restaurant, she could barely look at him, and last week she couldn’t move when he’d sped past her down the street. But now she was at ease, watching him carefully. She studied him as he slid into the chair in front of her. She thought his neatly creased khakis and black lambswool sweater made him look like a Banana Republic model.

  Mr. Gorgeous spotted the pair of crutches leaning against the side of the table. “Are those yours?”

  “Um, yes, I had an accident last weekend.”

  “Oh no, what happened?” He set his books aside, not taking his eyes off her.

  “I went jogging with a friend and had a bad fall. I was pretty banged up, but I’ve healed remarkably well.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had a tough time staying on your feet. As I recall, that’s how we met,” he winked. “But you’re on crutches, it must’ve been some fall.”

  “Yeah. I had to go to the emergency room and get a few stitches, but I’m doing much better. I barely need the crutches anymore. I just have them for support more than anything.” Even though there was nothing funny about what she’d said, they were both smiling.

  “Which hospital?” he asked.

  “Piedmont. The nurses in the ER were wonderful, and my doctor was great too.”

  “Oh, yeah, what was his name? I know a few folks over there in the ER.”

  “Dr. Obikwelu,” Victoria answered.

  “Obikwelu . . . Ah yes, Wole. I know him. He’s a good man, a good doctor.”

  “It’s a small world,” Victoria said with curiosity. “How do you know people in the ER at Piedmont Hospital?”

  “I’m a surgeon.”

  “At Piedmont?” She was impressed, but tried not to show it.

  “No. I’m at Emory Crawford Long.”

  “What’s your specialty?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “I’m a cardiothoracic surgeon.”

  That explains the long slender fingers, she thought. The hands that she assumed belonged to an artist really belonged to a skilled surgeon. “You look too young to be a cardiothoracic surgeon,” Victoria smiled, saying her words with emphasis. “But I bet you hear that from your patients all the time.”

  He nodded his head. “Yes, I hear that quite a bit. I’m sure you look too young for whatever it is that you do as well.”

  He’s a smooth one, she smiled to herself. “I’m a senior director in HR at ViaTech.”

  “So, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a library like this . . . on a Friday night?” Mr. Gorgeous asked.

  If anyone else had delivered that tired line, Victoria would’ve rolled her eyes. But coming out of his mouth it sounded like a sonnet. She thought about telling him that she was on her way to meet friends for a late dinner so she wouldn’t look like she had nothing else to do on a Friday night. She’d been alone on the Friday night they’d first met, and now here she was, alone again. But that was the reality of her life, so she spoke the truth. “I’m doing research for a project. When I come here I can get a lot done. How about you?”

  “Research for a project? What a coincidence, so am I,” he said, nodding toward his books. Mr. Gorgeous looked into Victoria’s eyes. “I have to ask you a very important question . . . what’s your name?”

  She let out a small laugh, extending her hand. “I’m Victoria Small.”

  He took her hand in his. “It’s a pleasure, Victoria. I’m Parker Brightwood, and now that we’ve been properly introduced, would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? Please say yes.”

  His eyes were so deep, she could see her reflection in them. Victoria remembered how he’d looked at her all night with those eyes. And then it came back to her. He had to steal glances because he’d been with another woman that night. Now, he was sitting across from her, eyeing her again, and asking her out for coffee. Even though she’d been fantasizing about him and wanting to see him, she didn’t know if she could trust this man who’d visited her in her dreams. For all she knew, the same woman he’d been with when they first met could be waiting for him to come home at that very moment. Her attitude abruptly changed. “No, thank you. That probably wouldn’t be a good idea. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Brightwood.” And with that, she started gathering her books.

  He was a little shaken, but remained cool. “Please, call me Parker. And why isn’t it a good idea?”

  “I don’t think your girlfriend would approve. I know I certainly wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend. What makes you think I do?”

  “Oh, let’s see . . . maybe it’s the woman you were with at the restaurant the night we met.” Victoria knew she was being sarcastic, but she couldn’t help it.

  Parker had almost forgotten about Sheila and their double date two weeks ago. All he’d thought about from that evening was his encounter with the beautiful woman who’d been holding his mind captive. He smiled.

  “What’re you smiling about? Did I say something amusing?” Victoria asked, clearly annoyed at this point.

  “I’m smiling because I like your directness. And by the way, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  Victoria ignored him and was now gathering her books, preparing to leave.

  “Victoria, please give me an opportunity to explain?” he asked.

  He said her name with a familiarity that made her shudder. “Okay, you’ve got five minutes,” she said, stopping to look down at her watch. “Go.”

  “You’re a tough woman.”

  Victoria glanced down at her watch again. “Four minutes, fifty-five seconds.”

  “You’re really something,” he smiled, with a brightness that could’ve put the sun to shame.

  “Four minutes, fifty seconds.”

  “Okay, I get the picture,” he paused, “the woman I was with wasn’t my girlfriend. We were on a blind date. I went out with her as a favor to the couple we were with that evening. They arranged the date, which by the way was a complete disaster. You were the highlight of my evening.”

  Now it made sense to her. She thought the two had made an odd couple, and she could certainly relate to being mismatched on a blind date! But she wasn’t completely convinced, and he read it in her eyes.

  “Listen, I’m going to lay m
y cards on the table. I’ve been thinking about you since we met, wondering who you are, what you do, where you live, and when I’d see you again.” He blushed, slightly embarrassed and startled by his honest admission. “Now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to let you get away again. I don’t have a girlfriend, fiancée, wife, or whatever else you’re thinking.”

  Victoria’s eyes still showed apprehension.

  Parker leaned in closer across the table. She could feel his heat. “Victoria, I wouldn’t be pleading my case to you if I wanted to play games. I’m far beyond that. If I wanted to be with that woman or any other woman of my choosing, I’d be doing just that, not sitting here in the library begging to share conversation and a cup of coffee with you. I’m a decent brother who wants to get to know you. That’s the truth.”

  They both sat very still. The stacks were so quiet they could hear each other breathe. Victoria looked down at her books, then back up at him. “Are you buying?”

  The Logistical Protocol...

  Parker walked Victoria to her car. He was parked in a lot on the other side of campus, so he gave her directions and she headed to the Java Café, a coffee shop located in a trendy section of downtown. He watched her drive away, then headed in a fast sprint to his truck. He couldn’t believe his luck. He smiled, thinking about how she’d gotten him to do something so uncharacteristic—begging.

  The night they met, she’d shaken his normally cool exterior. He thought men who ogled women were weak and uncouth. Parker Brightwood was smooth, if nothing else. A man of his background, distinction, and good looks didn’t have to hound women. Women hounded him. He came from a long line of self-assured men. His father was a retired judge, his grandfather, a retired surgeon, and his great-grandfather had been a family practitioner who’d run a successful medical practice out of his home. The Brightwoods were an established family among Washington, DC’s black elite, and everyone who was anyone in the DC Metro area knew the family name.