One Better

by Rosalyn McMillan

  Since the temperature hadn’t reached sixty degrees, cool for May, they elected to have dinner inside. At dinner Slim Majors complimented Mink on how well the house looked since it had been remodeled, and everyone raved about the exquisite dinner. Mink was delighted.

  Dwight’s mother, Justine, was not so kind. She complained that she had not found a single item that she’d picked out for her granddaughter in Azure’s room. In truth, Mink had donated all the furnishings and bedding Justine had given them to the Salvation Army. But she kept silent. Justine had never liked Mink.

  While the in-laws enjoyed drinks in the library, Mink put Azure to bed, then joined Dwight, who was busy cleaning the kitchen. The tension had started to build over dinner, and Mink knew that Dwight was waiting for the right moment to drop a bomb.

  “I heard about your friend,” he finally said.

  “Who?”

  “You know, the other man.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dwight.”

  “No?”

  “No. And I don’t think my friendships are any of your business.”

  “We are still married.”

  “We’re legally separated.”

  “And that gives you the right to fuck around?”

  “Okay. If this is how you want it. You had an affair; now I am. And I’m woman enough to tell you face-to-face who I’m fucking. His name is Harrison Fielding. We take the Cessna out and get some foreplay in while we fly. Remember, whatever you can do, I can do better.”

  “How dare—”

  “I’ve got more balls than you’ve got. ’Cause if you think you’re going to fuck around and I can’t, you’re wrong. I like a little strange, too. That first time, it’s thrilling.”

  “You bitch.”

  “Glory hallelujah, I think you’ve got it, buddy. But when I go out fucking, I bring a pack of rubbers with me so I don’t have any bastard babies. I’m just like a man. I want my pleasures just like you do. I can come home and take a bath and come out ‘Ivory Snow’ clean, just like you!”

  Even as she spat out the words, even though they were true, Mink immediately regretted saying them, and she ran out of the kitchen and up to her room. She decided she’d just stay there until all her guests were gone—she wasn’t going to wait politely downstairs. She felt completely frazzled. She couldn’t take another thing. As she was closing her eyes, she heard the sounds of Azure playing.

  Mink opened Azure’s bedroom door and found her daughter in the middle of the floor, surrounded by all her toys.

  “Time for bed, young lady,” she said a little harshly. She was tired and didn’t want Azure to give her a hard time.

  “Please, Mommy, let me stay up a little longer,” Azure whined.

  Mink looked at her watch. It was almost ten o’clock. “Absolutely not. Now get undressed and get into bed this instant.” She grabbed her daughter’s thin wrist, and without realizing her strength, she pulled Azure into a standing position. Then she noticed the water seeping out of the bathroom. She opened the bathroom door and found the tub overflowing and Jelly Jam soaking wet. “That’s enough! I just can’t take another thing tonight!”

  Azure started to cry.

  “I’m going to whip your little spoiled ass!” Mink screamed at Azure.

  “Please don’t hit me, Mommy,” Azure cried.

  Suddenly Dwight rushed into his daughter’s room. “Don’t,” he yelled, stopping Mink in midstride. “If you touch that child, I’ll kill you.”

  Shocked, Mink lowered her hand to her side. She looked over at Azure, who was huddled in the corner with a wet Jelly Jam shivering against her small chest.

  Mink was stunned. She felt his hot words creeping upon her and the breeze of Dwight’s body running past her toward the small child. She fell to her knees, crying. “I’m sorry, Azure. I didn’t mean it, really I didn’t.” Dwight held Azure in his right arm and the soap-soaked Jelly in the other, rocking them gently. He kissed his baby, not looking at his wife as he spoke.

  “I’m taking Azure to my parents’ home. She’ll be safe there. I’m letting you know straight out, I’m going to sue for custody.”

  Mink held on to his arm. “Don’t, Dwight. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Looking around, she realized now how obvious it was, with the floor flooded with water, what Azure had done. Obviously the child tried to give Jelly a bath.

  Dwight ignored Mink’s cries as he prepared to take daughter and puppy away. Pushing aside his wife, he threw a few of Azure’s things into her little knapsack. “I’ll see you in court, Mink.”

  Mink sank onto the bedroom floor, listening to the door slam behind them.

  With Dwight taking her child away, she had no choice. She had to believe in Dwight’s love; she had to believe in him.

  SPICE

  I love these little people; and it is not a slight thing, when they, who are so fresh from God, love us.

  —CHARLES DICKENS

  E ven if it was a dream, let it stay, this wonderful dream about Golden, Spice thought as she opened her eyes. She felt the warmth from the smooth satin sheets touching every inch of her naked body. It was early, and the birds had not yet begun to sing. She felt ready for anything. Today was the special day that she looked forward to all year long—the annual May tea dance, held the last Saturday of the month. Unfortunately Golden was away on church business and would not be there. Missing him already, she hummed a spiritual melody as she showered and dressed.

  Holding a cup of hot coffee and wearing nothing but a breath of fresh air, Spice pushed back the curtains and studied the threatening gray clouds. Every day for the past week, she had checked the weather forecast. Rain hadn’t been predicted until the following week. It couldn’t rain, though honestly she believed more in the power of prayer than the forecast.

  Today would mark Southern Spice’s eighth annual tea party. So far, rain had never intruded upon the big event. Now, with the windows open, Spice felt a moist breeze from the willows caress her face, and she inhaled the sharp scent of new grass growing, covering the grounds and mingling with the sweet blossoms.

  There were just two days throughout the year that the restaurant was officially closed: the annual tea party and Christmas Day. The theme of this year’s tea party was “Back to Romance—the 1920s.” It had taken months of planning. The invitations had announced that attire was formal and should be 1920s style. Out of the three hundred and fifty invited guests, only nine had replied that they would be unable to attend.

  Spice dressed, then went downstairs to check on the work in progress. Usually her employees were as excited as she was about the party, knowing they would receive a special bonus in their check the following week because of their efforts.

  It was seven in the morning, and the kitchen was filled with hustle and bustle. Most of the food preparations were close to completion. Spice looked over the shoulder of one of her most valued employees, the pastry chef, Verna Eagle. She’d worked for Spice for twelve years. The only employee Spice valued more was Carmen. And with Carmen away, Spice had to rely more heavily on Verna.

  “How’s everything going, Verna?”

  “Mighty fine. Mighty fine,” Verna said as she moved to place a tray of patterned pastry crusts into the commercial oven.

  The flaky pastries were cut into shapes of flowers, leaves, and shells. Later that morning they would be covered with shrimp spread that had been prepared the day before, garnished with dill and fresh greenery, then rerefrigerated.

  “Try the strawberry sorbet,” said Alice, another employee, offering a tablespoon.

  Smiling, Spice thanked the small woman. “Excellent,” she said, cupping her hand beneath her chin. “I’m sure the guests will be begging for the recipe.”

  “That’s our secret,” said Alice, wagging a finger in the air before she turned and headed back to her station.

  Hearing her name called at the other end of the kitchen, Spice said her good-mornings to the rest of the small staff and m
oved on toward Laura, who worked in the fresh fruit section.

  “I put a little more white wine in the peach soup than the recipe called for.” Laura was a bit more nervous than usual this morning. She glanced at the hazy weather outside the window, then looked back at Spice. “Do you think it’s okay?”

  Spice sampled the cold peach soup. “As a matter of fact, it tastes better,” she said, winking at Laura.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Laura smiled mischievously at Spice. Chocolate fluted party cups with berry filling, cucumber sandwiches, madeleines, asparagus-and-cream sandwich petit fours, and lemon tarts filled several rows in the spacious commercial refrigerator. Spice peeked inside for a quick check, then appraised her findings silently.

  Even though Verna was doing an exemplary job, Spice still missed Carmen. It had been two weeks since they’d last spoken to each other. As much as it grieved her, she had to respect Carmen’s wishes and wait until her friend contacted her.

  “It looks like rain, Ms. Spice,” Verna called to her.

  Spice shivered, hugging herself, then moved toward the window. “It wouldn’t dare rain, and spoil our party.”

  But it did, just five minutes later.

  Six young men were assigned to decorate the tables and garnish the walkways and porch railings with garlands of ivy and ivory ribbons entwined with gossamer white and yellow lotus flowers. Now they rushed inside, escaping the rain.

  “Develle,” Spice called out as she left the kitchen, “make sure that everyone inside continues on schedule. The rain will stop.”

  After Travis had quit, Spice had promoted Develle to the job of head chef. Truth was, Develle had a better rapport with the workers than Travis had and was doing an exceptional job.

  Back upstairs, she dialed Sterling’s number for the third time that day. A few weeks ago, when Spice had last spoken to Sterling, her daughter had barely mumbled a hello. Spice had apologized for the nastiness at their last lunch together. She yearned to question her baby about the pregnancy but bit her tongue. Now was not the time in their tattered relationship to play the role of smothering mother. She’d simply asked Sterling if she would attend the spring tea. Sterling assured Spice that she’d be there. Spice had left several messages since then, but Sterling hadn’t returned the calls.

  Now the machine came on again and Spice left yet another message: “Did you get your dress? I assume you’ll be here. Mink will be here around noon. Let’s start being a family again, sweetheart. You know I love you.” And she added a profound “Please” to the end of the message.

  At nine-thirty, just as Spice predicted, the rain had played its soft, pleasant tune and the umbrella of fast-flying colorful clouds passed like a whiff of smoke. Spice closed her eyes and gave a prayer of thanks.

  Then, suddenly, like the smiling daughter of the storm, the sun broke through. The party would start in three and a half hours. Spice picked up the phone and called downstairs.

  “Do you see it, Ms. Spice!” Develle asked excitedly.

  “Yes, the rainbow is lovely, Develle. Now hurry. Write this down, we’ve barely got three hours, and there’s so much to do.”

  Against the light, the colors of the rainbow shone like the hues of the soul against the darkness of the world. It arched above Southern Spice like a promising beam of hope.

  Mink arrived early and helped Spice finish dressing.

  “I thought you were bringing Azure,” Spice said to her daughter.

  “She’s got a cold. Erma’s nursing her at home.”

  “You shouldn’t have left her, Mink.” Spice was genuinely worried. Azure was never sick. “I wouldn’t have minded if you’d called and said you couldn’t make it. The baby should be your first priority, not some stupid tea.”

  “You worry too much.” Mink clasped Spice’s pearl necklace, then placed her hands on her mother’s shoulders. “Azure has a slight temperature, but otherwise she’s fine. Erma knows how to reach me. Now stop worrying.”

  “I know. I know I need to relax.”

  “You might not realize it, Spice, but these teas mean a lot to me.”

  Spice knew Mink was thinking of Dwight. It was clear that her daughter was hurting.

  Mink took Spice’s hands in hers, looking into her mother’s eyes. “You told me years ago how special these teas were to you. You said it wasn’t about putting on a grand show. It was more about the intimacy of friends, the quiet comfort of all types of people talking and sharing an afternoon together. That made it special.”

  Though Spice hadn’t voiced her concerns to Mink, she felt that this tea would bring their family back together again. Spice smiled. “And each year I’m struck by how many leave here so happy and relaxed.”

  “The same will happen this year.”

  “Without Sterling?”

  Mink patted her mother’s warm hands and helped her to her feet. “There’s still time for her to show up. You know how much she loves attention.”

  Spice finished applying her makeup, then slipped into her dress. “I left her three messages just today, begging her to come. I haven’t seen her since we had lunch weeks ago.”

  “I saw Sterling last week.” Mink helped Spice into her silk chiffon floor-length costume and began buttoning the forty satin buttons that ran down the back. “Azure and I were shopping. Sterling sneaked up behind me at Lord and Taylor’s and scared the shit out of me.”

  “Was she alone? How did she look?”

  “She looked the same. Although her roots had grown out, which was unusual for Sterling. Otherwise she looked like Sterling, color coordinated and conceited. And yes, she was alone. In fact, what really gave me a chill is how alone Sterling seemed. She acted as though she’d just seen Azure the day before, as if she hadn’t missed a beat in her short life. She talked about taking her to the Detroit Zoo, the new African museum, the Science Center downtown, and even designated a time that she’d pick her up. Before leaving, she kissed Azure on the cheek and said ‘I’ve missed you, baby. Your auntie Sterling will be by tomorrow.’ High as a kite”—Mink sniffed—“as usual.”

  “Don’t talk about it, Mink.” Spice’s eyes drifted to the window. “I hate thinking about it.” And what about her baby? Spice worried to herself—but she kept this news from Mink. There was no telling what the future held for that poor little baby. And for her poor little baby as well.

  Spice placed the final touches on the three-foot-wide straw extravaganza that she was wearing on her head, sticking a hat pin in the front and the back. The hat was definitely a conversation piece, ten yards of tulle along with seven yards of multicolored flowers. “Your dress looks lovely on you,” Spice said, eyeing Mink’s gown.

  Mink’s silver blue chiffon dress, cut in a 1920s chemise style with a floor-length matching silk chiffon scarf of iridescent bugle beads, mirrored her mother’s.

  Spice took one last look out her window at the garden. And though the scenery below was a beautiful sight, all she saw was Sterling’s absence.

  Mother and daughter entered the party looking like exquisite sisters. Since each year it proved difficult to find just the right dress for the tea party, Spice had had three similar dresses made this year by a designer in Chicago, one for herself and one each for the girls.

  For the next hour Spice welcomed her guests and thanked them for coming. Governor Michael Mitchell, Congresswoman Donna Bradley, Mayor Quincy Cole, accompanied by his wife, Judge Judy Cole, and several local recording artists strolled into the restaurant with a casualness of coming home for the holidays. With her oldest friends, she discussed the teas from the previous years.

  From one P.M. until five P.M. the tea party unfolded with the charm and elegance that were the fruits of Spice’s unique savoir faire.

  May was Spice’s favorite month for the garden. Throughout the month, peach, purple, and yellow three-foot daylilies embraced the four-foot white picket fence running the entire circumference of the three-and-a-half-acre grounds of the restaurant. Along the outer ed
ge was a deep and lofty enclosure of conical and pyramidal evergreens in contrasting textures and shades of green. The brick-laden walkways crisscrossing the two pools were lined with low hedges and mirrored on both sides with Stella d’Oro miniature daylilies, peonies, black-eyed Susans, three-foot dwarf cosmos, Siberian irises, and rosy pink coreopsis. Four rows of mounded crimson pygmy Japanese bayberry bushes provided a scarlet-toned color foil for shades of green. The effect was a kaleidoscope of color.

  Each spring Spice was surprised by the fresh radiance of the flowers and the sweetness of their fragrance. The ground was swollen with moisture and the temperature was just right so that the plants could rapidly transform light energy into growing tissue.

  It had taken years for Spice and Dwight to create the architectural landscape of Southern Spice. Spice again remembered when her beloved daughter, now so distraught, had first met Dwight. Spice had hoped to have a garden wedding for them, but it wasn’t to be. They’d jumped the gun on her. Now Spice could only hope that one day Sterling would walk down the garden path and unite with a man whose first name wasn’t Bennie.

  By one-twenty most of the guests had arrived, elegantly clad in stunning clothes from the twenties era. The people looked like a page ripped out of a storybook. Couples walked together, arms linked, chatting or laughing like children and enjoying the pleasant atmosphere as waiters passed through the crowd, offering silver trays of hors d’oeuvres. More than a hundred exotic teas, available to the guests, were served in steaming pots of bone china.

  On the opposite end of the grounds a grand topiary creation—Sleeping Beauty made of yews on a bed of corkscrew willows—created an equally impressive view. Together, Spice and Mink made their rounds and introduced themselves to the guests. Politicians were paired with businessmen. Artists were tabled with entrepreneurs. It was an interesting mix of old and new money. Most knew Spice from years of patronizing her restaurant; others were pleased to meet the famous restaurateur and her widely publicized daughter.