“Get your tail over here,” Grace said, yanking Candace away from some new European collagen cream. “You don’t need that crap, and stop looking around like this is some sort of amusement park.”
Bowing her head, Candace said, “I’m sorry.”
They rode the escalator upstairs in silence. When they stepped off the escalator, a gentleman in a beige tailored suit greeted them.
“Ms. King, welcome back.” He reached out and double-cheek kissed her.
Grace leaned in, returning the pleasantry and gagging on the inside. This boy didn’t know her from a hole in cement, yet he felt the need to impose himself on her, because he thought he might get rich off her this afternoon.
“Would you like me to call Sercee and let him know that you’re here?”
“No.” Grace waved her hand, shooing the man away. If this trip were about her, Grace would have demanded that her personal shopper, Sercee, be summoned immediately. However, this shopping excursion wouldn’t require his special touch.
Grace scanned the floor for Candace, who’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. Grace rolled her eyes when she found her tucked in a corner with a flat white sheath pressed against her. “On second thought,” Grace said over her shoulder, “call Sercee and tell him we’re doing a fashion intervention.” Grace marched across the sales floor and snatched the sheath from Candace’s hands. “No way.”
“Don’t worry.” Candace squeezed her lips together and flicked one of the tags at Grace. “All this stuff is way too expensive.”
Grace looked at the tag and smiled. A grand on a dress from Bergdorf was a steal.
“The price is irrelevant. A boxy sheath on your pear shape . . .” Grace stuck her finger down her throat like she was gagging. “Here are the ground rules for this little excursion. No knee-length, free-flowing skirts, Baptist convention suits, or cardigans, and no worrying about the price. Today is about fashion. Let’s just get you hooked up.”
“Grace, I think you should be careful with how you spend your money. Ethan told me—”
“I don’t care what Ethan told you about me,” Grace said through clenched teeth. “Let me worry about me, okay?” Grace put the dress back on the rack in front of them. “Thank you for your concern, but now is not the time.”
“Ms. King, room four is ready for you. Would you like me to escort you up there?”
“No, I know my way around.” Grace waved good-bye and grabbed Candace’s hand. “Follow me,” she said over her shoulder.
“Where are we going now?”
“You’ll see.”
“Welcome to room four,” Grace said slowly when they arrived at their destination.
Candace inhaled and let out a little squeal when Grace pulled open the door to room four. “Grace, what is this?” she asked, scanning the room.
Grace strolled across the camel carpet and plopped into a large, cushy chair. “This is one of the perks of being rich and famous in the city of dreams.” Grace crossed her legs and took a sip of the champagne on the black end table beside her chair.
Candace ran her fingers along the edges of the clothing that hung from silver bars along one wall of the room—a beaded, embellished blush-colored dress, a sleeveless black pantsuit, and a long-sleeve gray lace gown. She fixed her eyes on the shoes that neatly lined the floor like soldiers. She’d never been one to follow trends, but she recognized the Louboutins. They were in colors she’d never seen—a rich navy, canary yellow, and some kind of animal skin dyed electric blue. Perching herself on top of a maroon ottoman in the corner, Candace continued her survey of the room. There were more outfits hanging on the opposite wall and a three-rowed mirror in the center of the room.
“You should check out the clothes on that rack. You’d look great in Valentino,” Grace suggested.
“Valentino?” Discomfiture marked Candace’s voice, and her wrinkled eyebrows demonstrated her confusion. “I don’t speak fashion.”
“Clearly.” Grace rose from her seat and plucked a long-sleeve, multicolored butterfly-print dress from the rack. “This is Valentino.”
Candace’s eyes softened. Grace walked over to her with the dress in her hand. “Try this one on first.”
Rising to her feet, Candace asked, “Grace, what is this all about?”
Before Grace could respond, Sercee bounded through the door. Grateful for the interruption, Grace skipped into Sercee’s arms, greeting him with a hug, and then mounted her tippy toes to deliver the customary double kiss to his cadaverous cheeks. Sercee’s fashion taste and timing were impeccable. Grace really hadn’t thought about how she was going to win Candace over. She’d grown accustomed to the PR department at the firm or Ethan drafting her apologies. She had no clue what she would say. Sercee would most certainly be enough of a distraction for Grace to hunt for the words she needed to smooth things over.
“Dahling, you said we were doing a fashion intervention.” He peeled his glasses off his face and looked down at Candace. “But she needs a total overhaul. Is she barefaced?” He gasped, slapping his cheeks.
“Relax, relax,” Grace said, fanning both hands in Sercee’s direction. Grace wrapped an arm around Candace, whose tawny skin was turning a cinnamon color under the distress of Sercee’s criticism. “Let’s do the wardrobe first, hair, and then makeup.”
“Grace?” Candace said.
“Don’t worry. We’re not doing anything too drastic, but it will be better than that ‘fashion on a budget’ makeover you tried.” Turning to Sercee, Grace began to pour out the praise for the magnificent collection he’d pulled together. “These looks are so awesome. I love how you think. She is going to look great in Valentino. I think Lanvin would be good too, something with a little ruching or a tapered waistline. Do you have any menus from BG available?”
“Has it been so long that you need a menu, Grace?”
“No, but Candace could use one.”
Sercee reached inside his blazer and withdrew two menu cards for BG, the restaurant nestled discreetly on one of the upper floors of Bergdorf Goodman. “You better order a salad. You’re wide around the sides, and I don’t think you’ll fit into the special treat I’ve been holding on to for you,” he said, tapping her nose. “Let me go and fetch it. Feel free to place your order while I’m gone.”
Grace handed one of the menu cards to Candace. “Order whatever you like.”
“Grace, you still have not answered me. What is this sudden bout of generosity about? I hope this isn’t about Ethan.”
“Kind of, sort of.” Grace shook her hand from side to side.
“Listen, I don’t want any gifts to look the other way. If you all think you can buy me off—”
“Buy you off?” Grace laughed at the notion. This chile watches too much TV. There was no way on earth Grace would waste a dime paying off a court reporter. You paid off only people with juice or with a story to tell. What could Candace say? That she had walked in on Grace kissing Ethan, as if the world didn’t already know she had a voracious appetite when it came to the opposite sex? “Please, it’s nothing like that. Actually, I was hoping we could be . . .”
Candace jumped into the gap before the f in “friends” could even roll off of Grace’s tongue. “I hope y’all don’t think I’m going to join you in some ménage à trois or something.” Candace rolled her eyes in disgust and continued. “You’re crazier than what I thought. Imagine me breaking my covenant with the Lord to experiment with a washed-up model.” Candace stood up and flung the menu card on the floor. “Do me a favor while you’re being generous. Please tell your little boy toy that I have lost all respect for him. However, I will keep him in prayer.”
“Ménage à what? With who? Not you, boo.” Grace chuckled. Reality television had everyone thinking someone wanted to get with them. “I might be washed up in your eyes, but I’m still a hot commodity to some.” Grace looked in the mirror and ran her fingers through her raven-colored hair, which was now coifed in thick waves. She adjusted a few strands and ad
ded a dash of gloss to her lips before turning to face Candace again.
“I just wanted to apologize to you, Candace. I brought you here to apologize to you.” She sighed. “I mean, I meant to take you to lunch, but then I saw you feeding pigeons, wearing a cardigan, with a tight bun in your hair. I mean, I couldn’t . . . Ah, never mind. I’m getting ready to start rambling, and that’s not going to be good for either of us. Have a sip of champagne, relax, and enjoy a dose of retail therapy.”
“Do you think shopping solves everything?”
Smiling, Grace replied, “It solves most of my problems.” She reached for a glass and the bottle of champagne.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“A glass of champagne ain’t going to get you into hell, Ms. Holy Roller.”
“If this is how you apologize, it’s no wonder you don’t have friends,” Candace shot back.
Shaking her head, Grace absorbed the blow. She wanted to be strategic about how she responded to Candace in this situation; she was supposed to be putting out this fire, not pouring gasoline on it. Candace was still hurt, and this was her chance to lash out. Swallow it, Grace, and make peace.
“I haven’t eaten all morning. Let’s order lunch and then discuss this.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
Grace locked eyes with Candace. A residue of hurt lined Candace’s eyes, and it looked like forgiveness was definitely on vacation for an undisclosed amount of time. Grace refilled her glass and then filled the other one for Candace. “A sip is not going to kill you.”
“This may be a foreign concept to you, but I try to glorify God in everything that I do, and consuming alcoholic beverages doesn’t fit into that equation for me.”
“To each his own.” Grace downed her glass and followed it up with Candace’s. “You know, you Christians crack me up. You claim you serve a loving and forgiving God, but when it comes time for you to love and forgive, those concepts are alien to all of y’all.”
Chapter 24
“You know you miss him,” Grace said, chomping down on a scallop.
Candace shrugged her shoulders and turned down the corners of her mouth. “I’m satisfied.”
“With what?” Grace asked, leaning across the table.
“With my Savior,” Candace sang lightly, as if she was leading the Sunday morning devotion at her church.
“Look here . . .” Grace raised her fork and pointed it at Candace. “You might be fooling some people with your ‘Long as I got Jesus’ routine, but I know when the nights are cold and that rain is beating against your windowpane, you want a man that’s there in the flesh, not in the spirit.”
Grace already knew the church rhetoric that went along with the single life. Her mother had fed it to her when she was a teen and to many of the women at the church who came to see her mother after service to discuss itches that they just couldn’t resist scratching.
It was always about waiting, abstaining, and being content with the things that they had, and maybe one day the Lord would invite someone into a relationship. There was no help for the woman who wanted to invite a man into a relationship herself. She was the jezebel and the adulterous woman that Proverbs warned about. Nobody wanted to be her, and Candace was trying to dodge that bullet by running away from Ethan and rejecting his love.
“I hear you, Grace, but I’m not about to chase a man that I caught all invested in you.” Candace took a sip of her water and raised her eyebrows, soliciting a response from Grace.
“Candace, how many times do you want me to say I’m sorry? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was an accident.”
“Didn’t look accidental to me. It looked like the woman whom I had admired for a long time was kissing the man whose rib I thought God had plucked me from.”
Grace inhaled deeply and clutched her chest at Candace’s revelation. She knew the two of them cared for each other, but she had had no idea that their relationship had gotten all biblical already. Scratching her temple, Grace recalled the time she’d thought she was a rib. The one time in her life when she’d thought that she had been made for a purpose, and when nothing but love had coursed through her veins and into her heart. In her mind she’d been made for Pastor David, and she had actually envisioned herself seated behind him while he preached. She’d rehearsed responding to the title of first lady, and she’d compiled a file full of all his favorite foods, which she would prepare every Sunday. But those dreams had been snatched away from her before they were even close to coming to fruition, and now she was responsible for robbing another woman of her chance to be with her Adam.
“Listen, I’m sorry, and I’m not just saying that. I’ve been where you are right now,” Grace revealed, rocking from side to side. She hadn’t told this story to anyone else besides Junell, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to share it now. Swallowing hard, she braced herself and prepared to spill out as much of the story as she could. “I once loved a man, a good man, a man like Ethan. Gentle and upstanding. He was full of God, and all that jazz, and I lost him because of people meddling in our relationship. I don’t want to be responsible for coming between you two. Please allow me to help put this puzzle back together.”
Candace flung her freshly streaked honey blond tresses out of her eyes and replied, “Grace, I can go on without him. I have a replacement.”
“A replacement—” Grace choked on a scallop while getting the words out. There was no way Candace was going to dump Ethan after all Grace had just done to get them back together. Between the new Valentino dress that was hugging every inch of Candace’s body, including the petite waistline she’d been hiding, the pantsuit in the bag, the new pumps, and the hair and makeup, this transformation would have Grace in the red for months. She’d charged seven thousand dollars to her shopping account at Bergdorf today, and then there was the price she was paying not only to swallow her pride, but also to have some for dessert.
“I know you believe that every woman needs a man, but I’m not going to wind up like you, wandering to and fro, trying to fill some empty space or burning desire. That hole in my heart belongs to the Lord, and if you would allow Him to reign in you, the life that you now live wouldn’t be so painful.” Candace paused and sopped up some sauce with her roasted cauliflower and took a bite. “On another note, while I appreciate your little ‘what not to wear’ party and lunch, that’s not enough to get me to run back to Ethan. So, whichever one of you came up with this idea, it is my prayer that you have a backup plan in case you have to abort the mission.”
Oh God, I really messed this up. Help me fix this, Lord, Grace prayed in her heart and then looked around a bit, wondering where that voice had come from. I have got to stop hanging out with all these saints. They’re really messing me up. She was completely shocked that she was now praying to God, whom she didn’t even want to claim as her own. That was when her help came.
“You know, you need to stop acting like you are so tough and to just lie at his feet.”
Candace’s eyes widened. She seemed to be just as shocked as Grace was that she was ministering.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Grace told her. “Just accept the Word. As my mother would say when she was alive, ‘God will use a jackass to preach to you if necessary.’”
Grace’s self-deprecating remark was enough to change the tone of their heated conversation. Both Grace and Candace doubled over in laughter.
“No, seriously, Candace. If you think that’s the man for you, just cut the nonsense and lie at his feet, like Ruth did to Boaz, and see what the result is.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but when did you become a Bible scholar?”
“My best friend, Junell, encouraged me to read the book of Ruth to figure out how to deal with my relationship with Horace, this guy I met while doing community service. I finally got around to reading it this weekend, so I guess it’s still fresh in my mind.” Grace shrugged and signaled the waiter for a refill of the champagn
e she was drinking.
“You know, Grace, that story is not just a story, and it is not just about the love between a woman and a man. What Boaz does for Ruth is what Christ has done for us. Out of love, he willingly received a woman who was not his own, and paid the dowry that was necessary to have her. That was exactly what Christ has done for us.”
Grace sat up straight as goose pimples rose up and down her arms. Their waiter began fiddling with the empty plates. Frustrated by the distraction, Grace scooped up the plates and shoved them into the waiter’s hands. “Go on,” Grace said to Candace, folding her dainty fingers into a coaster for her chin.
“Jesus’s blood speaks for us, and He paid the price for our lives, just as Boaz spoke for Ruth. So . . . the one who really needs to lie at someone’s feet is you.” Candace pointed at Grace.
Grace didn’t think she liked the new, saucy version of Candace. “Whose feet am I supposed to be lying at? Shoot.” Contorting her peachy lips into an exaggerated pout, Grace folded her arms over her chest, crossed her legs, and bounced her long leg up and down in tune with the smooth jazz filtering through the restaurant.
“You’re supposed to lie down at Jesus’s feet, just like Ruth did with Boaz. That is, if you accept what He’s offering.”
What is it with these people? Grace wondered. Why does every single conversation turn into an attempt at conversion?
Switching the subject, Grace reminded Candace of the reason they’d met. “I’m supposed to be helping you get your man back, not planning my baptism.”
As Candace rattled off more reasons for Grace to give in to the higher power, Grace watched a woman seated at the bar, her back bent like the branches of a weeping willow. She drummed her fingers and shook her empty glass of alcohol in the air like a maraca, summoning the bow-tied bartender back to her. Either she sensed Grace’s gaze or had great peripheral vision, because she twisted slightly and sent a smirk in Grace’s direction. Her dark eyes were heavy and laden with dissipated desires, and they were surrounded by a gathering of crow’s-feet. She was once someone important, Grace gathered, but as beauty fled, so did the crowd.
Seasoned with Grace Page 14