Lacette wondered at her sister’s coldness at dinner that evening. Their mother tried to make conversation, but having lost touch with both her daughters, her efforts fell flat.
“What were you doing in here this morning with Lawrence Bradley?” Kellie asked Lacette for the second time.
“Was Mr. Bradley here?” Cynthia asked. “He could at least have brought my fur coat.”
“Are you going to drive Gramma’s car, Mama?” Lacette asked, hoping to divert Kellie’s attention from the matter of Lawrence Bradley’s presence in their home.
“Yes, if I ever get my hands on the keys. Who wouldn’t drive a Mercedes? With your daddy gone, I’ll need it. I went down to the Board of Education this morning to see if I could get my old teaching job back. I’ll substitute for the remainder of the school year, and next term, I’ll teach full time. Seventh grade as usual.”
“Mama, that’s wonderful,” Lacette said. She hadn’t thought her mother would adapt to the breakup of her marriage with such seeming ease. “You’re right to get on with your life.”
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Kellie said. “So that’s where you were this morning when Lacette was here making out with Bradley. How cheap can you get? You only met the man a little over a week ago, for heaven’s sake.”
Astonished at Kellie’s accusation, she opened her mouth to deny it and changed her mind. If Kellie thought Lacette wanted the man, she would probably make a fool of herself over him. Her instinct had always guided her to yield to her twin sister, catering to her at the expense of her own interests and needs. Submissiveness welled up from someplace within her, and she fought to quell it, to remember her father’s admonition that she stand up for herself. Without saying a word in her defense, she took the dishes to the kitchen, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher, went back to the dining room and sat down.
“You can clean the kitchen,” she told Kellie. “I have some work to do.”
“Clean the . . . I just had a manicure.”
“Excuse me, Mama,” Lacette said, and as she walked up the stairs, Kellie yelled, “You’re going to call him. Well, I’ll be on the line, and I’ll hear every word.”
She turned and walked back down the steps until she could see her sister standing with arms akimbo, her face twisted in anger. “If you want his phone number, Kellie, I’ll be glad to give it to you, and I won’t listen to your conversation because I don’t care what you say to each other.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t let her break her neck with that man,” Lacette said to herself while reviewing the products of Beauty Serums, Inc. that she would promote in Baltimore the coming weekend. Kellie didn’t usually show her hand so carelessly. “Oh, what the heck; it’s all I can do to manage my own life.”
She answered the telephone on the first ring, hoping the caller was not Lawrence Bradley; no need to ease her sister’s foolish concerns so soon.
“Hello. Lacette speaking.”
“How are you?” She recognized her father’s voice. “Did you call me?”
She heard the click when Kellie lifted the receiver. “Yes, I did, I wanted to know how you are. Kellie’s on the line; you want to talk to her?”
“Daddy, when are you getting the keys to Gramma’s house?” Kellie asked.
“I’m fine,” he replied. “How are you?”
“Oh. Uh . . . I’m okay, Daddy. Have you seen the lawyer again?”
“I don’t have anything to discuss with him. Why should I see him? When I’m ready for the house keys, I’ll get them. Why’re you so interested in what I do with that house?”
“Uh . . . uh . . .” she stammered. “I wanted to see it.”
“Really? If you had visited your grandmother more frequently, you’d know the house like the back of your hand.”
“Are you going to give it to Lacette?”
“I don’t plan to give it to anybody. I’d like to see you in church Sunday, young lady. You are too concerned with material things, and if you don’t shift your priorities, we’ll all watch you regret it.”
“How about lunch one day soon, Daddy?” Lacette said, getting her sister out of trouble with their father, as she had done all of their lives.
“Tomorrow? I can pick you up around twelve-thirty. The thought of you driving that rattle-trap car of yours raises my blood pressure. While we’re together, we ought to look for a new car for you; that one you have is dangerous.”
A click let them know that Kellie hung up. “I’ll be ready. See you tomorrow.”
En route to their luncheon date the next day, Marshall drove along Jefferson Street in historic downtown Frederick and parked in front of Veguti’s Ristorante. “I had soul food every day last week, and I want to give my arteries a break,” he explained as he parked in front of the popular Italian restaurant.
Over lunch, he urged her to find a place of her own. “I know I’ve always said you should stay home until you married, but things have changed, and if you and Kellie don’t separate, you’re going to be the loser. She loves you as much as she loves anybody, but unfortunately, that’s not good enough. I’ve often wondered where Cynthia and I failed with Kellie. She neither gives nor accepts unqualified love. Oh, she has feelings for people, but what she wants comes first.”
“Maybe when she meets the right man, she’ll change. I can’t imagine living away from Kellie.”
“I know. You’ve been together from conception. The bond between twins is strong, but I don’t want it to drag you down.”
After lunch, he drove out Jefferson Street toward Jefferson Pike and stopped at Barney’s New and Used Cars, where Lacette chose a new white Mercury Cougar. “You’ll have it in a month,” the salesman told her. “It is one smooth-riding baby.” She let her hands slide over the sleek lines of the low-slung sports car, pleased and barely able to wait until she could call one of them her own.
“Did you know, Mama’s going to substitute teach till the end of this school year and teach full time next year?” she asked her father.
“No, I didn’t, and I am glad to hear it. She’ll be able to take care of herself, and you and Kellie won’t have to support her. I wouldn’t have thought she’d do it.” True to his fashion, he went on to another topic without pausing. From childhood, she knew to concentrate when he talked or she would miss half of what he said. “I hope Mama Carrie left you enough to start your business. If she didn’t, you probably shouldn’t have bought such an expensive car.”
She told him the amount in the account. “I have more than enough for what I need. I hope Kellie got as much as I did.”
“That’s not your worry, and she doesn’t need to know what you got, but I’ll bet she asked.”
“Yes, sir, she did. She also wanted to know when you’re going to get the key from Mr. Bradley and move into Gramma’s house.”
“I’ll bet she did. She’ll save a lot of time if she asks me. Tell her to keep some time for me this Saturday coming.”
He eased the Cadillac to the curb in front of the parsonage and cut the motor. “Give your mother all the support you can. I’ll stay in touch.”
As she walked into the house, her conscience flailed her for not having attended prayer meeting since their parents separated. But repentance had a short life. From now on, I am doing what I think I need to do, what I want to do and not what someone else thinks is good for me. Liberated by the thought, she dashed up to her room and began researching what she would need to open L. Graham Marketing Consultants, Inc.
The following afternoon at six o’clock, Kellie knocked on Lawrence Bradley’s office door. “What took you so long? You knew it was me knocking,“ she said, giving him a taste of her temper.”
“I was on the phone. Sorry.”
“I was on the verge of leaving.”
A full-faced smile exposed his glistening white teeth. “You wouldn’t have.”
“Let’s go out somewhere,” she said, deciding to test him.
“All right. I know a nice little place ne
ar Braddock Heights. The food is great.”
They walked out of the building into the twilight of that mid December day and got into his BMW, but she couldn’t dispel the feeling that she was playing his game and not hers. He flipped on the radio, and she leaned back, comfortable in the brown leather bucket seats and closed her eyes and let Luther Vandross’s voice soothe her. When he parked in front of what was certainly a motel, its elegant façade notwithstanding, she squelched her temper. After all, he wasn’t her reason for being with him; it was the brooch and not he who mattered.
He registered, and then went back to the car for her so that she didn’t have to pass the front desk. He’d done it before, and probably a lot of times, but she didn’t care. Inside the room—lavishly furnished with red velvet walls, curtains and carpet and with an avocado-green bedspread and upholstered furniture—she removed her coat, gloves, and bag and kicked off her shoes.
“Thank God, I didn’t wear red,” she said as she sank into the chair. He handed her a menu, opened the bar and poured them each a straight shot of bourbon.
“I don’t drink straight whiskey.”
“It’s just a little.” He touched his glass to hers and then emptied its contents down his throat. His steady gaze challenged her, hitting that reckless nerve in her, and she lifted the glass and burned her throat until she swallowed it all. No doubt about it, she’d soon be drunk. He removed his jacket and tie.
“Not until after I eat,” she said.
“It’ll taste better after we find out how sturdy that bed is.” He grinned as if to make a joke of his crude comment.
Letting some of her annoyance seep out, she said, “I suspect you already know.”
“You’re too fresh tonight,” he said, walking over to her and rubbing her belly. For an hour, he left nothing to her imagination, taking everything from her that a man could take from a woman.
At last, sitting on the floor naked with her head against the inside of his left thigh, she asked him, “Why were you leaving the parsonage with Lacette day before yesterday? Did you do to her what you just did to me?”
“Look, baby, a decent man doesn’t talk about women.”
“Then you did have her!”
“I did not say that. I’ve never touched Lacette except to shake her hand.”
She wanted to believe it, but with his smooth tongue and beguiling ways, why should she? Anyway, what did it matter to her? “I’m hungry. After that workout you gave me, I feel as if I could eat a whole pig.”
He reached over and picked up the menu. “What do you want?
“Lobster and champagne.” She didn’t look at him for his reaction, mostly because she didn’t care. “And whatever goes with the lobster.”
“I’ll have the same. Put something on. No, go in the bathroom when the waiter knocks. I don’t want you to dress.”
She didn’t wait for the waiter to knock, but gathered her clothes, went in the bathroom, showered and dressed. She knew she would earn his displeasure, but she figured he’d get over it.
“Didn’t I tell you not to dress?” he said after the waiter left.
“Lighten up, Lawrence. I’m too sore for any more sex. Besides, I can’t imagine eating nude.”
That seemed to amuse him. “Why didn’t you say so?”
They got back to the parsonage around eleven. “Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked her.
“I don’t know. Say, why don’t you come over and have dinner with us? I’m not worth a thing in the kitchen, but Lacette’s a great cook. How about it?”
He turned fully to face her, settling his back against the car door. “We don’t have that kind of relationship, Kellie. We’re sex partners.”
So he didn’t plan to let her pretend that she meant anything to him. She beat back the annoyance that burned in her. “All right. Why don’t I come by the office and the two of us go over and take a look at Father’s house?” she asked him, thinking that he would welcome a chance to placate her after his crude and, to her mind, witless, description of their relationship.
“I can’t do that. It’s illegal. No one is to enter that house before Reverend Graham takes possession of it.”
Her bottom lip curled, and she fought to control what she knew would follow. “You listen to me. I’m his daughter, and that gives me the right to enter that house or any other house he owns.”
“Not by a mile, it doesn’t. Sorry, but that’s out.”
“You don’t have to go. Give me the key, or drop it where I can find it, since you’re so damned full of integrity. I want that key.”
“I had a feeling that this was what you were after. Sorry, babe. Don’t expect me to break the law for you if you spread your legs for me every day for the next ten years. If that’s what you were after, you misjudged me. I wouldn’t risk my profession and my family for you or any other woman.” He turned on the ignition. “See you around.”
“You will regret this for a long, long time,” she said, got out of the car and slammed the door. She promised herself that she’d get even with him if it was the last thing she did. Vexed and ashamed for the humiliation she tolerated from him in that motel room, and angry at herself for doing what he persuaded her to do, she slipped upstairs as quietly as she could, went into her room and closed the door. She was not going to cry. And she would find another way to get that brooch.
However, Lawrence Bradley evidently didn’t plan to allow Kellie to outwit him. Around three o’clock the following afternoon, Lacette answered the door and looked up at a process server.
“Are you Kellie Graham?”
“No. I’m her sister. She’s at work.
“Thank you,” the man said. “I’ll get in touch with her at her place of business.”
She phoned her father. “Daddy, why would a process server want to see Kelly?”
“You mean old man McGinty’s son delivered a summons to Kellie?”
“Yes, sir. I hope she’s not in trouble.”
“Tell her to call me.”
She said she would and walked around the house wringing her hands and snacking on potato chips and nuts until, desperate to take some action, she called Lawrence and told him what she suspected.
“You’re right. I got a court injunction against your sister forbidding her to set foot in your father’s house before he takes possession of it. She’s up to something, and I will not be responsible for her devilry.”
So Kellie struck out with Bradley. Nothing would convince her that her sister hadn’t made a play for the man. At least she didn’t get involved with a married man, Lacette thought with a good deal of satisfaction. Once a month, if not more often, their father began a sermon with the commandment, “Thou shall not commit adultery,” but she suspected that Kellie was capable of rationalizing her way around it.
“She probably wants to find my brooch,” she said to Bradley, “but that jewelry is not worth a battle with Kellie. She has always wanted whatever’s dear to me and usually managed to get it.”
“The restraining order stands. I hope it doesn’t interfere with your relationship with her.”
At dinner that night, Lacette, Kellie, and Cynthia could have been mistaken for three women who met minutes earlier and ate their dinner together by chance. Kellie’s obvious misery prevented normal conversation among them.
Adopting her usual role of peacemaker and soother of agitations, Lacette reached across the dining room table and covered Kellie’s hand with her own. “I don’t know what you’re dealing with, hon, but it will get better; it has to. I’ll help if I can.”
She recoiled from the blatant anger that flashed over her sister’s face as Kellie snatched away her hand. “Thanks, but considering your lack of experience with men, I doubt you can understand what I’m going through. Besides, the problems that beautiful women have are different from those you’ve had. No offense meant.”
Lacette looked from Kellie to Cynthia, aghast that a mother would allow one of her children to heap scorn on another
in her presence and with impunity. However, Cynthia’s mind was not on her family.
“Excuse me, girls,” she said. “I have to get dressed. Lacette, would you straighten up the kitchen, please?”
Half an hour later, Lacette turned on the dishwasher, extinguished the overhead light in the kitchen, started toward the stairs with the intention of going to her room and stopped. She squeezed her hands into fists as if to test her alertness, making certain that she hadn’t lost her mind. Cynthia Graham glided down the stairs, a fifty-five-year-old siren dressed as if for a hot date. This was her mama? Lacette stared at the woman she had thought she knew, at the brightly rouged lips, the sleekly styled hair, the black velvet pants suit and the pearls at her mother’s throat and ears. She sniffed the expensive odor of Hermes perfume that wafted to her from a distance of seven feet, rubbed her nose and shook her head in wonder. What had happened to her mother’s passion for Azure perfume?
“It’s almost nine o’clock, Mama.”
“I know what time it is, dear, and I’ll be back when I get back.”
Kellie came up from the basement carrying a log for the fireplace, looked up at her mother and dropped it, barely missing her toes. “Mama, for the Lord’s sake, where’re you going this time of night looking like that?”
Cynthia strolled over to the hall closet, put on her mother’s mink coat, showed them the keys to the Mercedes she inherited from her mother and said, “Out. I’m going out. You don’t tell me where you’re going, do you? I’ll see you later.”
They gazed out the living room window and saw her get into the big car and drive off. “What do you think has come over her?” Lacette asked Kellie.
“Beats me. All that eye makeup, permed hair and enough perfume to make a pig’s trough smell good. She had more gunk on her eyelids than I would ever think of wearing. I sure hope this isn’t a psychological reaction to Daddy leaving her.”
Lacette walked into the living room and sat on the arm of their mother’s precious green velvet sofa, in an act that was testimonial to her present absentmindedness. “What else could it be? When she went to the Board of Education the other day, her face was scrubbed clean, her hair was kinky and in a knot at her nape, her skirt was ten inches below her knees and her shoes resembled leather sneakers. This kind of metamorphosis demands psychiatric care. Trust me.”
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