Tanya took a moment to absorb that bit of news. “So that means I’m rich?”
“Yes, indeed.”
Tanya’s gaze went to the window across the room. A horse trotted across the pasture. “And they’re penniless?
“Exactamundo.”
“So how were they offering a hundred-thousand dollar reward for me?” Tanya asked, looking back at the woman.
“It was probably a scam. Or maybe they were banking on the money in that trust fund to pay the person off.” Mrs. Rankin rose and went over to a desk in the living room. She pulled out a large white envelope. “Here’s the paperwork that explains everything.”
Tanya tore open the envelope and the documents slipped out into her hands. “You’ve held onto these all this time?”
“Watched for you every day.” She smiled, displaying a youthfulness that was endearing. “My Jimmy called me just plain stupid.”
“Thank you,” Tanya said, scanning the sheets a second time. “Thank you so much.”
“So now that you’re a rich girl, what do you plan on doing?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Tanya said, clutching the papers in her hands. “But there’s one thing I definitely have to do.”
She finished her tea, hugged the woman, and was shortly on her way.
♥♥♥
Fifteen minutes later she pulled in front of a freshly painted wood-frame house. For the second time today she was hesitant to touch base with her past. Bracing herself, she took a few deep breaths and got out of the car.
Tanya lifted a trembling hand to knock on the wooden door. Instead it swung open wide before she could connect. A man with piercing dark brown eyes and short silver-gray hair and generous lips, which slowly lengthened into a warm, wide smile, greeted her. “Miss Tanya, did you bring me some Brummistew?”
“It’s Brunswick stew!” she choked out as a knot formed in her throat.
“Little girl—” he waggled a long finger at her—“me and you ain’t gonna get along so well.” He stretched out his slender arms.
She threw herself at him and he soon enveloped her in a warm, loving embrace. Tears of joy filled her eyes and spilled over. She didn’t bother to wipe them away.
Grandpa James pulled her away to look at her, then craned his neck toward the house. “Hey, come quick. Tanya’s home!”
CHAPTER Fifty-Seven
Vernon had entered the Fairmont ignoring the curious glances aimed his way. He didn’t wait to be called. Instead he took the podium and braced himself. “I stand before you today asking that you cease all activity with regard to my wife.”
Murmurs of dissent flooded the air.
“I’m pulling back and reassessing things,” he said, looking out at the sea of men. “I’m ready to try to win her back the right way—not by bringing her down, but by facing up to my shortcomings.”
“You know your membership will be revoked,” William growled, his eyes blazing.
Vernon turned to his father, meeting his angry glare. “I’m aware that that’s the way things are normally done, but I don’t think that will be the case with me.”
“Your father can’t protect you from this one,” George Payne said, moving to William’s side as the other nine board members looked on.
“And I wouldn’t even try!” William replied. “How stupid can you be?”
“And the founding members can do no wrong?” Vernon shot back, looking at the eleven men stretched behind the podium. “All but one of you have a little honey on the side. So if there’s any finger pointing or memberships being revoked, let’s start from the top…”
William turned red. The board members turned to each other and whispered in hushed tones. “Boy, do you want to get lynched in here?”
“I’m doing what you taught me,” Vernon shot back. “I’m playing the game.”
“By putting people’s business in the street like that? What’s wrong with you!”
“Afraid of a little truth, Pops?”
William crossed the distance between them. “Afraid my only son’s making an utter fool of himself!”
The audience was strangely silent as the mic amplified every word, no matter how low they spoke.
“Then there shouldn’t be two sets of rules here.” Vernon pointed to the exit. “Care to join me on the sidelines?”
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” William answered through clenched teeth. “I founded this organization.”
“Then it would be no problem for you to practice what you preach.”
The whine of the microphone caused everyone to flinch.
George took the mic from Vernon. “People, we’ll continue this issue at the next meeting.”
“Oh no, my brother!” Jeremy Shipp stood and yelled from the center of the room. “We’ll do this right now.” He and Craig Richmond had just become members a month ago, when they finally met the financial requirements.
Hearty applause followed murmurs of assent.
“Yeah! We’re not sweeping this one under the table,” Craig said, supporting his best friend.
“This meeting is adjourned,” William Spencer bellowed at the top of his lungs.
“Wait a minute, let him speak.” John Macon, one of the oldest members of the board of directors, turned to face William. “I’ve had to keep my boxers tight all these years and you Negroes have been getting busy out of both drawer legs? Hell no, we’re not talking about this next time.” He snatched the microphone from William. “Didn’t you get busted with two—”
“Three,” Vernon supplied, then looked out at his best friends and winked. They nodded back. They had followed the plan just right.
“Yeah, three,” John said. “How can you all dismiss five hundred other men and y’all’s shit ain’t right? If the members who were dismissed for the very same reason—ethics reason don’t get letters reinstating them, then there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“Oooooo-weeee,” Jeremy said, rubbing his hands together, and grinning broadly. “There’s gonna be some changes ’round here!”
Seeing that the meeting was getting out of hand, William said, “Look, no one’s perfect, but—”
“Speaking from experience?” John asked, staring William down. Something that Vernon had never seen happen.
Without taking his icy gaze from John’s face, William snatched the mic. “We’ll take your request under consideration.”
John snatched the microphone back. “False pretenses and fraudulent practices are against the charter’s by-laws…we want our dues back. All with me, take a stand.” Almost four hundred-fifty men—apparently the ones who hadn’t been caught cheating on their wives—stood.
“If it’s no infidelity among members, then that goes for everyone, not just for those who’ve gotten away with it.”
“You—you can’t call this now,” William sputtered. “Majority rules.”
“To hell with majority rules!” John scowled with indignation. “What about fairness?”
Craig and Jeremy settled down in their chairs, preparing for what would be a long night.
Vernon Spencer had single-handedly started the biggest debate in the history of the League.
As the argument raged back and forth, William Spencer grabbed his son’s arm and forced him to make a hasty retreat into the lobby.
“You’re destroying what I’ve taken years to build!” William growled, bearing down on his son in a way that made most men tremble with fear.
“No, Dad, I’m rebuilding an outdated forum. And the truth is out in the open. No more double standards.”
William’s hand fell away from Vernon’s as he searched his son’s eyes. “After everything I’ve done for you! How could you hate me so much?”
“I don’t hate you,” Vernon said simply. “Right now I don’t have any feelings about you and that scares me. When I could hurt, it meant that I cared.”
William’s jaw dropped as he stared at his son.
“All my life I’ve tried to live up
to you, Dad,” Vernon said, in a weary tone, “and didn’t realize that all it took was a step down to reach the goal.”
“You’re letting it slip away and you’re trying to destroy me!”
“I’m not doing things your way anymore. Listening to you and following your lead instead of my heart and mind got me into this mess,” Vernon told him.
“So you think you know it all now?”
“I’m not saying that. I know that it does not take tearing down the strong to build up the weak. I’ve wanted your love and approval for so long that I didn’t realize it had become the most important thing in my life.”
Jeremy and Craig peered out of the door leading into the conference area. Vernon waved them back in.
William glared at them and back at his son. “I let those two hooligans in as a favor to you and now they’re starting trouble. If you do this, I’ll cut you out of my will.”
“You think that means something to me right now?” Vernon spat. “How can I be ruled by something that’s no guarantee? Something I won’t see for another fifty years if God is kind. Now if you had said you wouldn’t love me anymore, that might hurt. But since you’ve never loved me at all…”
Something in William’s expression crumbled. “Son, look—”
“I’m not your son, Mr. Spencer,” Vernon snapped. “A son would be a duplicate of the original. All I’ve been is a pawn, something you’ve used to keep Mama in line. Did you ever think about the fact that the reason you’re so successful is that Mama had something to do with it? All those parties and charities she hosted on your behalf? Our women have played a bigger part than you’ve ever given them credit for.
“Just like there are certain parts of The Perfect Fit that miss and need Brandi’s touch, there’s part of The Perfect Match that could benefit from my wisdom. We aren’t doing this by ourselves. And neither are they.” Vernon lifted his head proudly. “I’m getting back with my wife and this time I’m respecting her contributions to our marriage instead of beating her down because she’s excelling in areas you feel are manly.”
“You were nothing without me and would still be scraping the bottom if I hadn’t stepped in!”
“Dad, it wasn’t that much help.” he said with a little laugh. “Right now being nothing without you is looking pretty good,” Vernon felt his spirits lift with every word. “I’m living my life on my own terms and I’m feeling pretty good about me. I’m rebuilding my relationship with my wife—the wife that’s perfectly fine as she is. If I can help turn things around for her, and she’ll let me, I’d like to team up with The Perfect Match to get men more prepared for the workforce and to also help them become better mates and marriage material. They can learn from my mistakes—and yours.”
“All this to please some low-class bitch,” William spat, his skin turning a sickly red color. “That woman’s got your nose wide open.”
Vernon took a deep breath. “I don’t see the difference in this and when I tried to please another…bitch,” he said, leveling a cool gaze on his father, knowing the man would catch his meaning. “And if you ever call my wife that again, or disrespect her or my mother in any way, you’ll find out how much of your son I really am.”
Vernon turned on his heels and marched back into the conference room, leaving his father staring after him.
The meeting lasted eight full hours. The longest in the League’s history.
By the time it ended, there was a new board and new by-laws. Letters had been drafted to all members—new and old and those who were considered in bad standing. And the men had all agreed to let up on Brandi.
Not bad for a single day’s work.
CHAPTER Fifty-Eight
Brandi walked into The Perfect Match with every intention of shutting the place down. While she appreciated the sacrifices Michael, Renee, and Ella had made, she had to face reality—she had failed. She was so close to the bottom that the house would be in foreclosure in a few months. She had turned down the many offers of financial help from Michael—she didn’t want to add that into the dynamics of things. He would have been an easy save. But at what cost? The kind of money he was offering would require more than a thank-you, no matter what he said.
Every loan request she had put in over the last two months was denied because The Perfect Match was a “new business.” No one took her time at The Perfect Fit into consideration. Every resource had dried up because each was in some way tied to members of the League—she’d never known how far their reach really was until now. As though setting the stage for a tragic play, a dark cloud had settled over her life, one that had begun to pour rain only where she walked.
Brandi put one foot off the elevator and froze. The doors almost clanged painfully against her ankle.
A bustle of activity from every corner of the floor made her gasp. “What’s going on?”
No one answered because no one could hear. The copiers, the computers, the desks—all had someone behind them doing something. But what?
“She’s here!”
A sea of faces, all mature women ranging from fifty-five to seventy, looked back at her, freezing in place as they smiled.
As if on cue, they said a warm, but staggering, “Good morning, Mrs. Spencer,” almost loud enough to make Brandi fall back.
The women were professionally dressed in black suits or dresses, black heels, and pearls.
If they had come for a funeral, The Perfect Match was the right place. Or was it? What the hell was going on here?
Tanya was teaching a class of some sort at a bank of computers near the main conference room. She stopped, looked up, and waved at Brandi.
Stunned, Brandi lifted her hand, but wasn’t sure if she actually waved back. Who were these women?
Motown music filtered through the office and a few shoulders and wide hips wiggled gleefully, paperwork in one hand and finger snapping with the other.
Bettye rushed forward, entwining her arm with Brandi’s. “Girl, close your mouth. We’ve got work to do!”
“Work?” she said, gazing out at all the women as Bettye dragged her along.
“You know, that thing that begins with a W and ends with a K.”
“These women—”
“Are your new staff!”
Brandi gasped, stopping their march forward. “Have you lost your mind? I can’t pay all these people! I came here to shut the place down today.”
“I know that, but we’re not going to let you go down without a fair fight. You don’t have to pay us right now, but some of the women would like part-time jobs when you’re on your feet.”
Brandi took a minute to absorb that piece of information. “Who are they?”
Bettye stood next to Brandi looking out at the people in front of them. “The ex-wives of some of the current League members.”
“All of them?”
“Every last one,” she said with a bright smile. “Well, except the two little ones in the communications center over there.”
Brandi almost didn’t recognize her own daughters. They, too, were dressed like everyone else. Which meant the little heifers had known and hadn’t said a word.
“Tanya also brought in some of her family from Social Circle.” Bettye leaned into Brandi, whispering, “You never told me she was Black.”
“She isn’t—” Brandi clamped down. To tell the truth she didn’t know what the hell Tanya was—vanilla coating on the outside, chocolate on the inside—oh, the contradictions. But the fact that she had stuck with her contract and found a way to help Brandi had said plenty about the woman’s character.
Her youngest sprinted across the room. “We’re working, Mommy,” Sierra said, wrapping her arms around Brandi’s waist, eliciting the smiles of nearby women.
“Yes, baby, I can see that,” Brandi said, hugging her little girl. “And it looks like you’re doing a wonderful job.”
Sierra’s round face beamed. “I’m sending faxes.”
“And I’m filing,” Simone chimed in. L
ooking every bit like her handsome father, and in her suit, she looked almost grown. Time to have that birds and bees talk for the fourth time. “When do we eat around this camp?”
“Soon, baby, soon,” Brandi said, still looking at the women in the office. She saw Avie posted up on the phone scribbling on her famous pad. She didn’t even look up.
Bettye tweaked her granddaughter’s cheek, and was rewarded with a small giggle. “There’s pastries in the main conference room.”
“Tanya said we can’t eat those before lunch,” Simone said, rolling her eyes. “She said it might make us wired for sound.”
Tears of joy sprang into Brandi’s eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. “How did you…?”
“I got together with a few of my friends and told them about The Perfect Match. Though they may have been housewives, they learned enough from their husbands to possibly open their own businesses.” She gestured gracefully to the women. “Now that experience will be put to work here—helping you.”
Brandi moved forward, trying to keep pace with her mother-in-law.
“Thanks to Tanya, More than Enough is allowing us to use their nightclub to sign up people every Friday and Saturday for the next month. Beau Visage II is also giving us space the next four Saturdays. Tanya and her family helped orchestrate everything for this Friday. The way she figures it, all we need is a hundred and fifty paying members and we’re in the game.”
Brandi reached out, pulling Bettye in for a warm embrace. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Bettye said softly. “Thank Tanya. Thank your husband.”
Brandi paused, trying to understand how the man who had caused her business life to dry up faster than an Arizona desert had put these new developments into motion. “Vernon?”
Every Woman Needs a Wife Page 35