by Pat Simmons
By the time she arrived at Ceyle-Norman, Tabitha was back on track emotionally, especially after she called Carole at Bermuda Place. Her aunt was adjusting better than Tabitha, so she left her cares at the door, including the fiasco with her neighbor—it was show time. She stepped out of the car and crossed the parking lot to the entrance, checked in with the receptionist, then took a seat.
Minutes later, a woman appeared in the lobby. “Hi, I’m Ava Elise Watkins. I’m the lead sales trainer.” She extended her hand for a shake, wearing a brown, two-piece suit and an engaging smile. Tabitha pegged the woman to be in her forties.
She had never met a black woman who introduced herself with a first and middle name. “Hi, Ava.”
“Feel free to call me Ava Elise,” she corrected in a soft tone. “My mother prefers both names, since she couldn’t make up her mind when I was born. Unfortunately, she did the same thing with my older brother.” She laughed, and Tabitha did too as she trailed the trainer down the hall.
The classroom was set up theater style. Six rows of long tables with chairs on only one side could accommodate about forty students. There were only twelve of them in this class.
The first order of business was to view a short video about the business on a sixty-inch flat screen at the front of the room. Since Tabitha had already done research on the company, her mind began to drift about a minute into the vice president’s greeting.
She wondered about Aunt Tweet again, and suddenly the Jerk’s face flashed before her eyes. She hadn’t realized she made a growling noise until a male new hire next to her looked her way. Tabitha cleared her throat, hoping to play it off.
There was plenty of paperwork to complete, including tax forms and confidentiality agreements. By midday, Marcus appeared in her head again. This time, he was smiling at her, and she noticed his eyes danced. She found herself smiling, then his smile turned to fangs as the Jerk resurfaced. She frowned.
Ava Elise must have misread her expression. “I know it’s overwhelming, Tabitha, but you’re a seasoned rep. You’ll just have to familiarize yourself with our procedures and products. We believe you’ll shine here at Ceyle-Norman as you did at Pfizer.”
“Thank you,” Tabitha heard herself say as her mind drifted elsewhere. I’ll have to keep a closer eye on Aunt Tweet, she thought. One more incident, and she was confident that the man would make good on his threat to have her arrested. Tabitha would never, never knowingly put her aunt in harm’s way! Of course, if she was convicted of endangering an elderly relative, she could kiss her career goodbye. She had to be more diligent about her aunt’s whereabouts and keep her away from that man’s property by any means necessary, even if that meant sleeping with one eye open.
That evening, after an eventful day, Tabitha relaxed with Aunt Tweet doing one of her favorite pastimes—gardening. While Tabitha was satisfied planting bulbs and bedding plants once a year, her aunt was known for planting anything and everything when the mood hit her, then admiring the fruits of her green thumb.
Her aunt had helped the Knicely sisters make countless mud pies when they were younger. Tabitha chuckled to herself at the fond memories. She wanted more good memories while Aunt Tweet was still in her right mind.
While outside, Aunt Tweet insisted on wearing the big red hat, so for fun, Tabitha donned one of her summer, floppy straw hats too. They had a couple of hours before sunset to enjoy the warm breeze and tranquil surroundings.
“I think we should plant some collard greens.”
Tabitha chuckled. “Not in my front yard, but a vegetable garden by the patio sounds good,” she said as the hairs on her arms raised, alerting her to impending danger. Shifting to defense mode, she glanced over her shoulder and blinked for clarity.
She pulled back the rim of her hat to get a better view of the tall figure blocking the sun. Tabitha scrambled to her feet and wiped the dirt from her hands on her jeans. “Is there a problem?” She squinted, then realized she hadn’t given him her address. “And how did you know where I lived?”
Marcus slipped his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He tilted his head toward Aunt Tweet, who hadn’t given him a peep as she focused on her mound of dirt for the plant. “The hat gave it away.”
Of course. Tabitha nodded. Her aunt had set in motion bad neighbor relations. “Sooo…” She paused so he would give her the reason for his visit.
“Just checking on the welfare of my neighbors. Have a good evening, ladies.” He nodded his goodbye, then strolled back to his vehicle.
Did Marcus expect there to be a problem? Tabitha hoped their spacious neighborhood was big enough for both of them not to run into each other more than once a year. “That was strange,” she mumbled, still not trusting the man.
Aunt Tweet said “Mmm-hmmm” and kept digging.
Chapter 4
The next morning, Tabitha dragged herself out of bed after a restless night. She replayed Aunt Tweet escaping from her house and then Marcus showing up unexpectedly. It was the makings for a never-ending nightmare. To make sure it wasn’t a bad dream, Tabitha stretched, then crossed the hall to look in on Aunt Tweet’s room. Asleep. Good. She relaxed, but her mind was still strategizing options to keep her aunt from sneaking out.
After backtracking to her bedroom, Tabitha washed her face and brushed her teeth. “God, I’m going to need Your help to get through the next six months,” she whispered.
Tabitha had foolishly thought she was self-sufficient based on her financial stability, healthy lifestyle, and intellect. Aunt Tweet’s diagnosis was evidence that wealth couldn’t buy good health. Initially, the what-ifs had plagued all three sisters as they berated themselves for ignoring the signs of their aunt’s forgetfulness during phone calls.
Even Aunt Tweet was in denial that something was wrong after she got lost in her hometown of Philly. “Oh, it was a combination of my medicine and this extreme heat that made me a little disoriented,” she had said, playing it off.
Days after that harrowing experience, Dr. William Murray evaluated Aunt Tweet and confirmed the sisters’ fears. “Miss Brownlee has moderate signs of dementia. At this stage, you can witness bouts of poor judgment, mood swings, personality changes, loss of interest in hobbies, difficulty communicating, long- and short-term memory loss—”
“This doesn’t sound good,” Kym had said, shaking her head and cutting off the doctor.
“It’s not. Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease,” he advised. “And a person can live years with it.”
“Wait, I thought you said she had dementia,” Rachel asked.
“Alzheimer’s is a disease and the leading cause of some of the dementia symptoms I’ve outlined. Other diseases can cause the same symptoms, like Huntington’s, Lewy body dementia, a stroke, or a brain injury. Remember, the symptoms are caused by something. They don’t just pop up,” Dr. Murray stated.
But they did just pop up, Tabitha thought. None of them had seen this coming.
Dr. Murray had suggested prescribing Aricept and Exelon to slow down the progression of some of the dementia symptoms. Her sisters had immediately defaulted to Tabitha for the drugs’ stats. As a pharmaceutical sales rep, she knew that every drug had its side effects.
Tabitha had collected data and created spreadsheets on the five most common medicines on the market. She had their drug names, brand names, adverse side effects, drug interaction, and whether they were FDA approved. Many of the medicines to treat dementia symptoms were still in clinical trials. Others were too new to have a track record. She had hesitantly consented to one medication, not both.
“Only time will tell if she needs more,” Tabitha whispered to her reflection in the mirror. As she dismissed further thoughts of drugs, diseases, and research, somehow Marcus’s face resurfaced. What was the deal with him? It wasn’t her concern. She had enough on her plate with Aunt Tweet, so as long as they stayed out of each other’s way, they coul
d live in harmony in Pasadena Hills.
Leaning closer to the mirror, she noted the evidence of not getting enough sleep, which was rule number one on her beauty regimen. With a sigh, she applied more concealer under her eyes, finished the rest of her makeup, then headed downstairs to prepare breakfast.
Since her arrival, Aunt Tweet had taken over the kitchen, and Tabitha had no qualms about relinquishing the task. Her aunt had a flair for cooking—at least her memory hadn’t robbed her of her culinary masterpieces, yet. But this morning, Tabitha wanted to make breakfast for her aunt, so she’d woken up early. She rattled pans in the kitchen until she yanked out a cookie sheet she preferred for biscuits. Not long after slipping them in the oven, Aunt Tweet appeared, fully dressed and wearing mismatched shoes—one teal and the other yellow. The floppy, red hat was in one hand.
“If you don’t stop slamming those dishes, I’m going home.” Her aunt fussed as she took a seat at the table.
But you can’t, Tabitha thought sadly.
* * *
“Don’t mistake kindness for weakness.” Marcus locked eyes with the man on the other side of his desk who was five seconds away from becoming an ex-employee because of his disregard for punctuality. He needed this distraction after pulling that stunt at Tabitha’s yesterday. What had possessed him to cruise through the neighborhood three times, looking for trouble and signs of the two women? Checking on the welfare of neighbors was the excuse he’d given to Tabitha, and it was as good as any. That’s the story he was sticking to until he could figure out why he gave them a second thought after their run-in yesterday.
When Victor Graves blinked, so did Marcus, forcing his mind to stay focused.
Since Victor’s release from prison, he had worked for Whittington Janitorial Services for almost two years; however, his good work history was in serious jeopardy. There was something about the young father of two that always swayed Marcus to give him the benefit of the doubt and treat him as a mentee or little brother. Not this time. Marcus had on his boss hat and was ready to terminate an employee. “I don’t like to throw our generosity in your face—”
“But you are anyway.” Crossing his arms, Victor leaned back in the chair as if he were the one in charge of his payroll.
Flaring his nostrils, Marcus scowled. “Don’t play games with me. All you have to do is arrive here on time, and I don’t care if you hop on a bus, take an Uber, or ride a tricycle. Our shuttle vans drop you off at the front door of the office sites for cleaning.” Counting on his fingers, he listed other perks WJS offered. “Did you forget the child care—”
“It ain’t free.” Victor leaned forward as if putting Marcus in check. “You’re taking fifty bucks out of my check a week.”
Really? Did this dude realize his job was on the line? “Stop using it and see what child care costs for a one- and a three-year-old.” He grunted. “You make more than minimum wage, so help me understand why those benefits aren’t incentives for you to want to keep your job?”
Victor remained silent.
“I have applicants vying to take your place. Give me a reason why we shouldn’t suspend you.” It had better be good, he thought, waiting for a reply.
The buzz about the working culture at Whittington Janitorial Services had generated a waiting list of prospective employees. He and Demetrius paid their workers, many of whom were single parents, more than minimum wage and they operated day and night child care on site. Their workers were rewarded with a $100 bonus every quarter if they deposited a certain percentage of their weekly pay into savings. These perks nurtured employees’ loyalty and pride in their work.
“Fire me,” Victor taunted.
If Demetrius were in the room, Victor’s wish would have been his brother’s command. But Marcus saw potential in the twenty-five-year-old. “Where will you live? What would your babies eat? Think about others besides yourself.” He tried one more time to reason with the impossible.
“Man, you don’t care nothing about me. I know you’re getting government subsidies for hiring us bad boys.”
True, but it didn’t cover the extras his company provided. “I don’t do rehires, so I would think carefully about getting to work on time tonight. Last chance.” Marcus stood. “Meeting over.”
“Whatever.” Shrugging, Victor got to his feet and walked to the door as Demetrius was entering the room.
No words were exchanged as Demetrius eyed Victor until he left the office. “You’re either a fool or a better man than I am, because I’d have fired him after the second tardy, no questions asked or guilt keeping me up at night.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Marcus gritted his teeth. “Something tells me Victor is about to call my bluff, and I’ll put every dime we owe him on his payroll debit card before the end of the day. What is wrong with people? First that Tabitha woman and now him.” He rocked back in his chair and exhaled. “I have to be earning brownie points with God for putting up with foolishness.”
Demetrius stopped sifting through a stack of envelopes and gave Marcus a curious expression. “So your neighbor came back and you called the police? You didn’t tell me that.” He lifted an eyebrow.
“Because she hasn’t been back.”
“Oh.” Demetrius took a seat with a disappointed expression. “You can put the fear in the little lady, but Victor ain’t scared of being on the streets hungry or going back to jail. I call him a fool.” He balled his fists. “Say the word, and I’ll take it from here.”
“I don’t need your backup, Bro. My hunch is he plans to fail.”
Chapter 5
After work, Tabitha stopped at the grocery store with Aunt Tweet and lingered in the produce department. She had no problem eating a salad as her meal: spinach, fruit, taco—it didn’t matter.
Aunt Tweet chatted nonstop about the happenings at Bermuda Place while guiding the cart. “I told that Eleanor at the office she needs to update her wardrobe. The colors that woman puts together.” She tsked and shook her head, overlooking her own fixation with Tabitha’s red, floppy hat. “I requested the limo driver take us to the stores tomorrow.” Her aunt hadn’t stopped talking about the facility’s weekly outing where the seniors could shop. Limo vans were the mode of transportation.
Tabitha smiled, relieved her aunt was adjusting well to the changes in her life. This high-spirited and animated woman was the aunt Tabitha knew and loved. Not only could Aunt Tweet coordinate fashion, but she possessed a flair for interior decorating. How could this intelligent socialite be slipping away inside before Tabitha’s eyes? Enjoy each moment, she reminded herself.
Once Tabitha had selected all the veggies she wanted, she steered Aunt Tweet down the bakery aisle for English muffins for breakfast. Not only was her aunt a great cook, but Aunt Tweet was also a master baker of cakes and pies. She perused packages of sugary treats until she selected a sock-it-to-me cake off the shelf.
When her aunt reached for cookies and doughnuts as well, Tabitha lifted an eyebrow to draw the line. “Auntie, let’s get one or the other,” she suggested.
Not one for taking instructions, Aunt Tweet straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin. “I am getting one for today and the cake for tomorrow.” Her tone was final.
That’s two, so why was she holding three treats? Tabitha dared not argue, but she was determined to have the upper hand to keep her aunt healthy. Then, in disbelief, she watched as Aunt Tweet dumped more sweets into the cart as if to usurp her authority.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Now,” Aunt Tweet said, lifting her shoulder. “I feel like making a smothered pork chop for dinner with green beans and cranberries and coleslaw.” She smacked her lips as if the meal were already prepared.
Whenever her aunt cooked, Tabitha’s mouth watered too. Aunt Tweet knew how to mix seasonings for unmatched flavor. Her aunt might have won the scrimmage on the sweets at the moment, but
Tabitha was going to win the battle on sugar overload. “I’ll get us some chops. Please, Aunt Tweet, don’t leave the cart.”
Tabitha suspected her aunt would use her absence to add more junk to their grocery bill. She hurried to the meat section and picked up the first package of pork chops without checking the price or expiration date. Considering Aunt Tweet’s state of mind and strong will, Tabitha didn’t trust her aunt to follow instructions. All Tabitha needed was to have the employees activate a Code Adam because her aunt went missing in the store.
She scrabbled back to aisle one. To her relief, Aunt Tweet hadn’t moved but was occupied with her intimidating neighbor. Uh-oh. Bracing for a sarcastic comment about her leaving Aunt Tweet, she hesitantly joined them.
What? Marcus actually smiled at her when he looked up. “Good evening, Tabitha. When I saw your aunt and didn’t see you, I was hoping you had everything under control.”
So he was taking a dig at her. “Despite what you think of my caregiving skills, as you can see, my aunt is well-loved and not neglected.” Tabitha made sure her aunt was clean and groomed each day before they left the home.
“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” His eyes sparkled.
Oh, okay. Maybe she was taking offense because they met under circumstances that were not the best. Tabitha took a deep breath and lowered her guard. “Sorry I snapped.”
“Truce?” Marcus extended his hand to Tabitha’s amusement. “Misssss Knicely?”
“Yes, it’s ‘miss,’ and there is no way I can discreetly ask your status.” She smiled. “So tell me.”
“Single.”
Accepting his hand, Tabitha wasn’t prepared for the gentle strength coming from a guy who towered over her by a foot and could probably bench press two hundred pounds. At the same moment, she took note of his black, silky hair and thick eyebrows against brown, flawless skin. His facial hair was trimmed, and a hint of his cologne lingered under her nose. Handsome.
