“You are going to have to pray on that, Miss Hattie Lee. Going in with Marquita is too big of a deal to let Rico get in the way,” Yvonne told her.
She definitely understood Miss Hattie Lee’s not wanting to deal with Rico, though. But Rico wasn’t important enough to stand in the way of something like this.
The bell tinkled and the door swung open. A well-dressed older man walked in holding a dark gray fedora by the brim, old school style. Miss Hattie Lee rushed over to him and twirled around a few times.
Mr. Tommy smiled broadly and said in one of those sexy, raspy old-man voices, “You sure are looking good, girl. Making me feel like I’m sixty all over again.”
The three younger women thought they had seen it all when Miss Hattie Lee told them what her dance costume looked like, and then busted a smooth move to Mary J. But this had to win the award. There were times when they each thought about what it would feel like to be seventy, eighty, or ninety years old. Judging from the twinkling eyes of those two, it appeared that it might feel pretty good.
Miss Hattie Lee let her man help her into her coat, slipped her arm through his, blew a kiss at the younger women, and practically skipped out of the shop.
“What do you think they do on their dates?” Rochelle asked.
“Same thing you do on yours, probably,” Elaine answered her.
“But I like to snuggle up to my boyfriend and get some of those sweet kisses of his.”
“Okay, Rochelle,” Elaine began, “first off, you never told anybody that you had a new man. So why don’t we start there before we go any further into Miss Hattie Lee’s business? Who is this man and when and how did this happen?”
“His name is Terrence Lockwood, he is an attorney and works with the Carolina Panthers Corporation, and he is a mighty man of God.”
Yvonne smiled broadly. She said, “I know about Terrence Lockwood. He is supposed to be a wonderful and anointed man. What he look like?”
Rochelle grinned and whipped out her phone. She pulled up a picture of a light-brown-skinned man. He looked to be about five foot ten, was trim and well built, and had a mustache and some of the kindest eyes Yvonne had ever seen. And if he wasn’t the sharpest thing on two legs in that silver-blue suit, dove-gray shirt, silver, light blue, and chocolate-colored tie, she didn’t know who was.
Elaine checked out the picture. “Nice, very nice, Rochelle. And he knows the Lord. Even better.”
“Yeah,” Rochelle said softly and did something she rarely did—blush. “And he has some good kisses, too.”
“Sooo, if you and Terrence can get all snuggled up, and you get some of his good kisses, then don’t you think that Miss Hattie Lee and her new man are capable of doing the exact same thing?”
“But, Elaine, they are …”
“Old, Rochelle? But they aren’t dead … just older. And I think it is a beautiful thing to know that I’ll still want to be snuggled up and kissing on my man when I am their ages.”
“I agree,” Yvonne added. “But do you think they kiss like we do? I mean all warm and sexy like—French kissing. You think they do that?”
Elaine and Rochelle had to think hard on that observation. Neither remembered ever witnessing people that age kissing and making out.
“Girl, you have a point,” Elaine said. “How do they make out?”
Rochelle started laughing and said, “We are talking just as crazy as Yvonne’s kids. That sounds like something that little Danesha would ask, don’t it, Yvonne?”
“Umm … hmm. It sounds just like Danesha. But I still wonder how they make out.”
“Me, too,” Elaine said.
“Well, you know how secretive that age group can be,” Rochelle told them. “So we are just going to have to get old to find out. Remember, we didn’t think people who were forty, and especially somebody who was fifty, would be making out and all over each other. But they do. And I think they are worse than any little college student trying to get all up on somebody.”
“You ain’t talking nothing but the truth,” Elaine said, cracking up. She had crossed the fifty-mark some years ago, and loved being all hugged up with her new man.
Rochelle’s cell phone rang out the late great Gerald Levert’s “In My Songs.” She flipped it open, grinning. “So, you finally got out of that meeting and decided to give a black girl a call.”
Elaine and Yvonne strained their ears to pick up on a man’s voice.
“You will be able to make it? Perfect. Can you stay over? You have time to meet with Curtis? Good.”
Rochelle paused a few seconds before saying, “The Sheraton Imperial isn’t too far from my house.” She laughed and then said, “Boy, you so crazy,” before she hung up.
“So where is ‘Boy, you so crazy’ spending the night? And why is he meeting with Curtis?” Yvonne asked.
“He has a room at the Sheraton Imperial but wanted to be able to come and hang out with me for a while. And Terrence is going to give Curtis some counsel on how to handle his department over your decision to send in those grades, and effectively bench DeMarcus Brown and June Bug Washington.”
“Oooh, I didn’t mean to cause that kind of trouble,” Yvonne said, now a bit worried.
“Girl, please. Curtis is so glad you sent those grades in, he doesn’t know what to do. He just wants to make sure he handles his business, so that Gilead can’t get around him on this one. What you did was an answer to that boy’s prayers. And I bet that he respects you immensely for standing up for what you knew was right.”
“When and where did you meet Terrence, Rochelle?” Elaine asked.
“In Charlotte. I was at a meeting for attorneys who work with sports programs. Terrence was one of the workshop presenters. We hit it off, and we’ve been talking for months. And plus, Maurice had the skinny on the brother.”
“Sounds good to me,” Elaine said.
“Me, too,” Yvonne seconded, picked up her things, and then put them down to give Elaine a check.
“This is on me, sweetie. But here is your card for your next appointment. I can’t wait to hear how all of this goes.”
“Thank you, Elaine,” Yvonne said, suddenly tearful. She was so blessed to be surrounded by such wonderful and loving people.
NINETEEN
Yvonne walked into the kitchen, dropped the fancy garment bag on the counter, and then knocked it onto the floor and tripped over it trying to get to the alarm keypad before the alarm went off. She had forgotten to remind herself that she had finally remembered to set the alarm when she left the house this morning. Yvonne was good about setting the alarm at night but had to practically beat herself over the head to remember to do the exact same thing during the day. She was so relieved to reach that alarm in time. After a day like this one, she wouldn’t have known what kind of password to give to the alarm people when they called.
Yvonne picked up the garment bag and headed down the hall to her bedroom. When they first moved into Cashmere Estates, Yvonne was sullen and droopy, refusing to let go of her hurt over having to leave 6,000 square feet in Richmond for a three-bedroom, 2,100-square-foot home. Back then Yvonne was so focused on her past, her losses, and mourning the life she thought she had, she could not appreciate the beautiful blessing God had dropped into her lap.
Like Lot’s wife, Yvonne made the erroneous assumption that what she had been forced to vacate was worth a hardening of her heart and stubborn refusal to embrace change and start a new life. But God was prepared for Yvonne and her foolishness. As soon as she crossed the threshold of this lovely house, she sat down and cried at the thought of how much God loved her. God had blessed Yvonne with the perfect house in spite of her foolishness and ungrateful ways.
For the Lord had made a way out of no way for her and the girls to move into this house. Lamont Green, who owned Cashmere Estates, had leased this house out to Yvonne with an option to buy for a very affordable price. The only thing Lamont wanted from Yvonne was for her to decorate this house so beautifully, potenti
al buyers would be sold on the remaining properties as soon as they completed a virtual tour of her home.
The one-story cerulean-blue Caribbean-style stucco with brick-colored shutters was nestled in trees, azalea bushes, and a blend of flowers that bloomed until late fall. There was a brick walkway leading to the front porch, which covered the expanse of the front of the house, a brick-colored door, two rockers in indigo and a rich creamy yellow, and a double rocker in the same brick red as the front door.
As soon as the door opened, there were café au lait hardwood floors Yvonne had installed with the help of the girls, and a large tree plant in a blue pot with tiny flowers painted all over it in colors matching the porch furniture. The walls were a rich creamy color with delicate hints of cocoa in it. The living room was small and cozy with a baby-blue velvet love seat, mint velvet oversize chair with pink and lavender silk pillows, and a hand-painted baby-blue trunk with Yvonne’s, D’Relle’s, and Danesha’s names painted all over it in pink, mint green, lavender, and indigo. There were two small indigo end tables that held mint lamps and bright silk flower arrangements in pale yellow vases. And there were photos of Yvonne and the girls on the walls in a mixture of modern, antique, and hand-painted frames.
The dining room was more sedate with a walnut table and hutch with crisp clean lines, and matching Shaker-style chairs. This room was elegant and simply decorated with natural plants and original paintings of Durham’s Black Wall Street section, or Hayti, which was a thriving area back in the first half of the twentieth century. The cocoa-colored family room and pale almond kitchen were spacious and comfortable adjoining rooms that afforded Yvonne and the girls a great place to play, work, and enjoy one another’s company in the evenings.
Everyone loved the cozy dark gray Ultrasuede family room furniture, with the pale blue, mint, and dove-gray area rug covering most of the floor. The kitchen had toasted-almond-toned cabinets, and pale almond and chocolate stone countertops that were a perfect complement to the stainless steel and chocolate appliances.
Each bedroom had its own walk-in closet and bath, with the master suite being graced with a closet that was almost as big as a tiny bedroom, along with a wonderful Jacuzzi tub and double sinks. D’Relle’s room was pale green with cocoa accents. It was simple, tasteful, and low-maintenance with lots of high-tech amenities. Danesha’s room, on the other hand, was a soft pink and pale yellow. Whereas D’Relle had opted for natural-colored wooden blinds, Danesha’s windows had pale pink mini-blinds softened with even paler pink sheers with tiny yellow butterflies all over them. There was a fluffy yellow rug in the middle of the floor, and pastel-colored satin pillows on the pink satin comforter and baby-blue chair.
When you walked into D’Relle’s room you wanted to examine all of her cool stuff and read the books in her extensive library. But when you visited Danesha you longed to grab a cup of tea in a fancy porcelain cup, turn on some good music, and enjoy all of her original artwork, which was tastefully displayed around the room.
But if the girls’ rooms were a delight to the senses, Yvonne’s room was nothing less than a visual treat. Her walls were the palest of pale cocoa color, with lavender on all the trim and moldings. She had a lavender, cream, and cocoa area rug, and a dark walnut dresser, chest of drawers, and king-size sleigh bed. The bed always made everybody who came into Yvonne’s room want to grab one of those plush pillows and take a long nap on the pale cocoa comforter with tiny cream and lavender hearts on it.
Yvonne’s bedroom had lavender mini-blinds and pale lavender sheers on the windows. She had a hand-painted lavender desk and chair, and a cocoa velvet seat at the foot of the bed that matched her oversize cocoa velvet chair and the ottoman facing a walnut hutch with the TV, DVD, and stereo system in it. Like D’Relle, Yvonne had two bookcases loaded down with all kinds of wonderful things to read. And like her baby girl, Danesha, she had her own original art pieces displayed on the walls.
Yvonne took the suit out of the garment bag to inspect it more carefully. It really was an incredible outfit. She slipped out of her clothes and tried on the halter and skirt. Her first concern was that the skirt would not fit right, and then she wasn’t so sure about the halter. She was a D-cup and knew that those “girls” needed support. She always wondered why folks went on so about big boobs—they were very high-maintenance. And contrary to public opinion, it seemed to Yvonne that most clothes were really designed for women with much smaller cup sizes. So she didn’t know what there was to get so excited about when your cup overflowed.
This was a top-of-the-line outfit. The halter fit and had built-in support that fit. In fact, it felt wonderful on her breasts—not too tight, not too loose, with the proper coverage on the sides. The skirt was shorter than she normally wore her skirts, but it felt good on her body.
Surprised and satisfied, Yvonne took the clothes off and went to run her bathwater. She put in some bath salt and then added some midnight pomegranate bubble bath. She finished undressing, waited until the tub filled up, and then eased into the water. Yvonne leaned her newly done head on the tub pillow and sighed—the water felt so good on her lush, chocolate body.
She lifted a soapy leg up and examined it. Her leg was firm and shapely. She ran her hands over her stomach—it was flat and firm. She raised her soapy arms up—they had biceps and definition. She looked at her full breasts with the deep dark chocolate nipples that looked sweet to the taste. She examined the texture of her skin—so soft and smooth.
Yvonne sank back into the tub. The warm water came up above her shoulders, making her relax even more. She felt the water swirling around every part of her. It felt good and reminded her just how much of a sensual and loving woman she was. But who would ever discover this about her? Who would ever want to know who she really was? Was there a single man in her age group out there with sense enough to see her and want her, and do what he had to do to get to her?
A hot tear trickled down Yvonne’s cheek and she whispered, “God, why would you bring me to such a state as this? I’m a beautiful, wonderful woman. I’m not perfect, and I definitely have some areas where I need to grow and change. But I am worth a man wanting me and seeing all that You’ve given me and desiring that. It’s not fair, God. It’s just not fair.”
More tears spilled over and before she knew it, Yvonne was sobbing so hard her chest ached. It wasn’t fair that she had to be so alone with no end in sight. It wasn’t fair that her ex-husband could break her heart, dump her, put her out of her own house, and then go off to find his happiness. She didn’t care that he didn’t want her anymore. But it simply was not fair that he got to have a life and she had to stay stuck. It wasn’t fair and God needed to step in and do something about this.
Yvonne cried some more and then tried to will herself to stop. It only made matters worse. She felt bad because she was mad at the Lord, who she knew could change her situation in the blink of an eye, for letting her be here like this, and for so long. It wasn’t fair.
“Whoever said I was fair as you all define fair, Yvonne,” a soft voice whispered to her heart. “I’M JUST. I have not left you, nor have I or will I ever forsake you. So fear not for I have overcome the world.”
The tears stopped, the hurt ceased, the peace came, and hope was alive and well in Yvonne’s heart in a way that it had not existed in years. She relaxed. Rest, true rest, rest-in-the-Lord rest, finding that resting place promised in the Book of Hebrews, was what Yvonne felt. She realized as she submitted her will and weary soul to this rest that she hadn’t known what rest was until this moment. She laid her weary head on the tub pillow, whispered “Thank You,” and fell asleep until the water became tepid.
Yvonne finally got out of the tub, dried off, wrapped herself in a huge towel, and washed her face. She felt so much better. It had been a long day, full of twists and turns. And the one twist she’d completely forgotten when she threw that pity party was that she had a date with a fine brother.
After washing her face, brushing her teeth
, and putting on deodorant, Yvonne went to her perfume shelf and selected her newest addition, Daisy by Marc Jacobs. She indulged herself in the wonderful body cream and then layered that with the cologne. Smelling good, she went into the bedroom in search of the perfect underwear for this suit—baby-blue lace string bikinis and a pair of silky, chocolate-flesh-toned pantyhose with light blue roses down the side of the leg. Yvonne had fallen in love with those stockings when she saw them but had never found anything to wear that did them justice until now.
She put on some light moisturizer, and then dusted her face with the new mineral foundation and shimmering pinkish blush Elaine had given her. She applied the sparkling brown shadow across her lid and added a navy metallic in the crease, finishing off her eyes with the ebony liner and a few brushes of mascara. The only thing missing was the shimmering dark rose lipstick that made Yvonne’s wide and full mouth so lush, it looked like it was begging to be kissed.
She ran the comb through her silky hair, shook it, and watched it fall right back in place. A thick wisp of hair fell over her eye, giving Yvonne that “I just left my man” expression the makeup artists spent so much time perfecting on celebrity pictures in the magazines. And here she was, uncool Yvonne reppin’ what women paid good money to get.
“Perfect,” she whispered with a smile.
She sat down on the side of her bed and slipped those blue suede shoes on her feet. “Ooooooh,” Yvonne purred in pure delight, “these things feel good.”
Yvonne packed up the new purse with way too much stuff. She emptied and refilled it three times before she was able to fit the right amount of everything she needed into it, before looking for jewelry that would do this outfit right. She could not, in good conscience, wear something of this caliber and not put on the right earrings and necklace. Unfortunately, the only jewelry that met this standard was the pieces Darrell had bought her years ago.
She pulled at the “Darrell Drawer” on the jewelry box and selected a pair of thick platinum hoops with diamonds and blue and brown topaz stones sprinkled on them, two-carat diamond studs for her second holes, and the two-carat, heart-shaped diamond pendant hanging from a delicate and barely visible platinum chain.
Up at the College Page 22