Small Sensations

by Crystal V. Rhodes

  Actually, he was quite proud of Vanessa for having chosen Bianca’s new preschool. Finally, at age twenty-eight, she was showing some backbone by making a decision in her life that hadn’t been influenced by Katherine. It seemed that since losing her husband in an automobile accident two years ago, his sister had changed quite a bit. She had always been under her mother’s powerful influence, but the hold appeared to be weakening. A few weeks ago she had ignored Katherine’s wishes and placed Bianca in Playful Tots. This act of defiance had been the first independent decision he could ever remember Vanessa making, and he had been delighted.

  Katherine had been livid when she discovered what her daughter had done, but Vanessa had held firm. She had explained to her mother that although the school was miles from Katherine’s home, where she and Bianca resided, it was closer to where Vanessa worked as an interior decorator. Its convenience had been a factor in her decision. Yet, Justin knew that her action had been more than that. It had been a defining step in Vanessa’s declaring her independence from their domineering mother.

  He had always been the rebel in the family, the one his parents found impossible to control. His chosen career had been the bane of their existence. He was the only male member on both sides of the family who had not gone into medicine. Instead he had chosen a career in computer technology. It was a career decision that his mother still didn’t understand.

  Justin was also the only member of his family, on both sides, who had attended a graduate school outside the South. His master’s degree in computer science was from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, M.I.T. Until his recent move back to Atlanta, he was the only member of his family, on both sides, who had chosen to reside in the North, and Katherine was not shy about expressing to him the heartache that each decision he had made in his life had caused her. But he was back now and he knew that his mother’s efforts to manipulate him would be greater than they had been when he lived in New York City. Katherine had been ecstatic over her son’s return to Atlanta. She viewed his presence in her city as yet another opportunity to try to extend influence over him. Her only challenge, as it had always been, was his lack of cooperation.

  Justin Miles carried the name of two of Atlanta’s oldest and most influential black families. He was the only male heir to both the Justin and the Miles family fortunes, and he was the cause of constant frustration for Katherine Miles. To make matters worse, he had earned his own fortune as an entrepreneur and couldn’t be controlled with her money. She was at a loss when it came to understanding her adored and beloved son.

  She watched as his eyes twinkled at her expense, obviously amused by her heartfelt concern about his sister. She had tried every way she knew to elicit his assistance in getting Bianca removed from that school, but to no avail. She had run out of tactics other than outright begging, which she refused to do. She knew that her son would make some sort of inane remark to placate her, and he did.

  “Mother, Bianca is doing very well in her preschool. I’ve been picking her up from there for two days now, and from what I’ve seen the teachers seem nice and so do the kids. The neighborhood surrounding the school consists of brand new homes, with upper-middle-class families doing the best they can to give their children a good start in life. So I don’t see the problem. Vanessa made her choice, and it looks like a good one to me. You ought to go by the school and check it out instead of condemning it, sight unseen.”

  “Humph, you sound like Henry.” Katherine sniffed, referring to Henry Gaston, the family chauffeur, and the father of Justin’s best friend, Clark. Henry had worked for the Miles family for over forty years. He was like a second father to Justin. Henry’s opinion mattered in the Miles family. “He said that I should go to this open house thing that this preschool is having this evening.”

  Justin’s interest in the conversation took a sudden turn. “Open house?”

  “Yes. Last week Bianca brought this gaudy, iridescent notice home informing anyone—anyone who wasn’t blinded by the color—that the school is having an open house tonight. I’m surprised that she didn’t say something to you about it. Hopefully she’s forgotten it, because I certainly don’t want to go.”

  Open house, at the preschool. That meant parents and significant others would be in attendance. Yes! Perhaps this would offer another opportunity to see the delectable Ms. Maxwell again. This was too good to be true.

  Justin made a conscious effort to control his excitement. Any indication of interest would alert Katherine that something was afoot. “Perhaps you should go, Mother. After all, Bianca needs to have someone there to represent her family.”

  Just as he knew she would, Katherine resisted. “I have no intention of going to that place unless I absolutely have to. If you’re so concerned, you go. After all, you’re the one who’s supposed to be baby-sitting.”

  Bingo! However, a little resistance was necessary to offset suspicion. “I’ve never been to a school open house before!” He hoped he sounded reluctant enough.

  Katherine was encouraging. After all, Justin was right; somebody had to represent the family. It was important that the people at that school know the stock from which Bianca came. “Of course you’ve been to an open house, sweetheart, when you were a child. You loved them.”

  The statement was so ridiculous that they both laughed. Then, timing it just right, Justin relented. “All right, since I’m an expert in the area, I’ll go. Just let me know the details.”

  Katherine gave a sigh of relief. Justin gave a sigh of satisfaction.

  * * *

  As Davia and CeCe walked around the school that evening, enjoying the brightly colored decorations, warm punch and home-baked cookies, Davia thought about Stephanie, her beautiful daughter, the round-faced little girl with the incredible brown eyes. She remembered the school open houses that she had attended for her and wondered what her daughter would have thought of her own little girl at age four. Certainly she would have been as proud of her child as Davia would always be of them both.

  Stopping at an abstract finger painting with Gabby’s name scrawled neatly in the lower right-hand corner, she and CeCe examined it.

  “Interesting,” Davia observed.

  “Genius!” CeCe declared. Her eyes took in the pictures surrounding it, then declared them to be the work of “amateurs.”

  Davia shook her head in amusement at the intensity of CeCe’s assessment. “Girl, you ought to quit. I’m going to the bathroom before the kids put on their program. Grab a couple of seats so we won’t end up standing against the wall.”

  Davia exited the classroom while CeCe moved to the folded chairs placed against the walls in preparation for the program the children would be presenting. She took a seat and claimed the one next to her with her purse.

  As she looked around the room at the miniature desks and chairs that decorated the room, her thoughts drifted to Stephanie, just as Davia’s had. She would be nineteen years old if she had lived. She would probably be as beautiful as her mother and certainly just as smart. What would Stephanie think about the woman with whom she’d had so much strife during those turbulent teenage years? The girl had accused Davia of being a bad mother, incapable of providing warmth and love. The words had nearly destroyed Davia, but only CeCe had been allowed to see her tears. She wondered if Stephanie was looking down from heaven bearing witness to her mother’s determination to sacrifice her entire life as penance for what she perceived as the ultimate sin, being an inattentive mother. That’s what it was, penance, a punishment that Davia had imposed on herself for feeling responsible for the death of her child. CeCe might not be a psychiatrist, but she’d bet her law degree that her friend’s ban on men was Davia’s ultimate form of atonement. Well, it was time for it to end.

  CeCe gave a weary sigh and absently surveyed the room. If Davia would give her a chance, she knew that she could fix her up with the right man—a man who would love and cherish her and make her live for something else other than Gabby and work. She de
served at least that! If Davia wasn’t interested in Kevin, then there were plenty of other hunks with good bods to chose from. Men like—CeCe’s eyes stopped roaming as Justin walked into the room.

  With his hand firmly gripping Bianca’s, he tried to appear relaxed, but his appearance was deceiving. He was anxious, a bundle of nerves. What if Ms. Maxwell wasn’t here? What if she was here? What would she do when he approached her? Would she reject him publicly? He’d see, because if she was here he definitely was going to approach her. His eyes took in the entire room with one swift glance.

  There were only four other African-American adults in the room; a couple examining the room decorations, Bianca’s preschool teacher, and an attractive woman sitting in one of the folding chairs lining the walls. She seemed to find him interesting, but his glance swept over her briskly. There was no sign of Ms. Maxwell. Justin quelled his disappointment. Perhaps she hadn’t arrived.

  He was momentarily distracted when Bianca’s teacher greeted them both, then hustled his niece into another room to join the other children who were getting ready for a short program they were to present to the adults. Nodding politely at the woman in the chair, who continued to stare boldly at him, he turned to look at the pictures on display, searching for Bianca’s drawings. He could still feel the woman’s eyes on his back. She was quite pretty, with creamy, rich brown skin and dark hair worn in a sleek bob that stopped at her shoulders. The slight smile she had given him revealed a deep dimple in one cheek. Normally, he would have approached her and started a conversation. According to his sister, there wasn’t a pretty woman alive for whom he wasn’t on the prowl, but today he was interested in only one woman, and she wasn’t the one.

  As Justin gazed at the colorful array of pictures without really seeing them, he marveled at his dilemma. He couldn’t understand why he felt such an overwhelming attraction to Ms. Maxwell. No woman had ever fascinated him so completely in such a short time. He wanted to know her. He wanted to know her story. How had she come to be a grandmother so young? What were the circumstances that had brought her to this?

  He had read and heard about the plight of teenage pregnancy. Too often it destroyed young, promising lives. His mother and her friends viewed pregnancy out of wedlock as deplorable behavior, unacceptable no matter the circumstances. Katherine relegated such behavior to the exclusive domain of the “lower classes.” It was her contention that teen pregnancy did not happen among the “upper class.” But Justin begged to differ. He had assured her that her observations about “upper class” morality had some definite flaws, and if he were a gossip he would have provided her with the names of “upper class” couples that he knew had aborted unwanted pregnancies outside of marriage. Of course, Katherine didn’t believe him, so he had allowed her to retreat into denial.

  He wondered if Davia had wanted her pregnancy. Whatever the case, she seemed to have survived young motherhood and she appeared to have prospered. Both accomplishments earned his admiration.

  Refocusing his attention, he found Bianca’s picture and smiled at the childish scrawling of her name at the bottom of the colorful drawing.

  “Your daughter’s?”

  Justin looked around at the sound of the voice drifting over his right shoulder. It was the woman in the folding chair. He was surprised not only by her sudden appearance but by her height as well. She was tiny, a little over five feet. She hadn’t looked so petite when she was seated. He returned the warm smile she bestowed on him.

  “No, it’s my niece’s.”

  CeCe’s smile widened. His niece! Good! That was three points in his favor. Fine as hell! No wedding ring! And no kids! At least she hoped that was the case.

  “Oh, you don’t have kids that go here?” She tried to sound casual.

  Justin heard both unasked questions. “No, I don’t have any kids. I’m not married.”

  It took everything that she had in her to keep from dancing a jig. Now, if he wasn’t gay, on parole, a pervert, an intellectual midget or just a plain, everyday kook, he might be perfect for Davia. She stuck out her hand. “I’m CeCe Green.”

  “Justin Miles. Nice to meet you.” His hand closed over hers briefly, careful not to linger too long. He didn’t want to give her a false impression. She seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t his reason for being here.

  “You said this is your niece’s work?” CeCe eyed the collage of swirls and squiggles, her eyes dropping to the name, Bianca. The drawing was okay, but she was no Gabby. “It’s nice.”

  Justin nodded in agreement. The woman had taste. Bianca’s picture was undoubtedly the best in the room. “Where is your daughter’s picture?”

  CeCe moved toward the blackboard to the left and pointed to a finger painting hanging above the board. “Right here.” Her voice was filled with pride. She noted the smile that started working its way across his handsome features. The smile froze as his eyes lowered to read Gabby’s name.

  Gabrielle! He didn’t know there was another Gabrielle in Bianca’s classroom. “Your daughter’s name is Gabrielle? I bet that gets confusing for the teacher, having two Gabrielles in the room?”

  CeCe frowned in confusion. “Oh, I didn’t know there were two in here. I didn’t see the other one’s painting on display.” She had looked at every hanging art piece, judging the competition. It had been sadly lacking.

  Justin frowned this time. “Well, I think there are, your Gabrielle and Gabrielle Maxwell.”

  “What?” CeCe frowned, confused at the direction the conversation was taking. “Gabrielle Maxwell is my Gabrielle.”

  The man looked at her dumbstruck. What was his problem? Was Gabrielle’s name that odd? She’d known when she first saw him that he was too good to be true. He was beginning to fall into the kook category.

  Justin found his voice. He was certain he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Did you say that Gabrielle Maxwell is your daughter?”

  Not only was he a kook, but he had a hearing problem, too. It was best to dump this loser and move on. “I said Gabrielle Maxwell is my Gabrielle.” She spotted a woman moving toward the chairs she had reserved for herself and Davia, and found her excuse to abandon this loser.

  “Excuse me, I’ve got some seat saving to do. Nice meeting you, Mr. Miles.”

  Justin watched as she hurried over to the seat, which she previously occupied, shooed the intruder away and reclaimed her seat. It was obvious that he had been dismissed, but he didn’t mind. He needed time to gather his thoughts and recover from the shock of her statement. How in the world could she be Gabrielle’s mother and Ms. Maxwell be Gabrielle’s grandmother? What had happened in that family? The child must be that of Mrs. Maxwell’s son, but had he had that child by CeCe Green? The woman looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Had Ms. Maxwell approved of a relationship between her teenage son and this woman? What kind of woman would condone such a thing? Perhaps the mystery of the Maxwell woman was more complex than he realized. This might be more than he was willing to handle.

  It was at that moment that the lady in question made her appearance and any doubts that Justin had harbored instantly vanished. She paused in the doorway for a moment to look around and Justin knew the exact moment that she saw him. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat, just as his did. As he watched her, he wondered if her heart was beating as wildly as his own.

  CHAPTER 5

  Davia groaned at the sight of Justin Miles, but it was hard to tell if it was a groan of regret or of appreciation. Despite her lack of interest she couldn’t deny that Justin was a very good-looking man. Rationalizing her reaction to his presence in the room as one that any woman would have toward him, she ignored the butterflies in her stomach, gave him a stiff nod and joined CeCe on the other side of the room.

  CeCe hadn’t missed the sign of recognition between the two of them as she slid her eyes from Davia to Justin. “Do you know him?”

  Davia adjusted her oversized purse on her lap and got comfortable before answering
, trying to sound nonchalant. “Yes, that’s the uncle of one of Gabby’s friends, Bianca Thomas. His name is Justin Miles. We met recently.” She deliberately left out the reason why.

  CeCe looked stunned. “You mean to tell me you met a gorgeous hunk of a man like that and never said a word to me?”

  Davia shook her head at her lecherous friend. “I meet gorgeous men all the time and I never mention them to you. Why should this one be different?”

  “Well, thanks a lot. It’s nice to know that you think so much of me.”

  Ignoring CeCe, Davia readied herself for the start of the program. What she wasn’t ready for was the company of Justin Miles as he took the empty seat next to her.

  Davia couldn’t contain her look of astonishment at his acknowledgment of CeCe. Her friend had already met the man and she hadn’t been in the room more than five minutes. The woman was faster than the speed of light!

  “You’ve met Mr. Miles?”

  CeCe had the grace to avoid Davia’s accusing eyes. “Yes, we met when he first came in. We were admiring the children’s artwork.”

  Davia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Uh-huh, I just bet you were.”

  CeCe cut her eyes at Davia, annoyed by the look and the sound of suspicion. This was the last time she would do Davia a favor. She could find her own man after this! Looking past her and toward Justin, CeCe smiled, but Justin’s eyes were riveted on Davia. It was clear that Davia didn’t need her assistance to hook this one.

  CeCe’s gaze shifted to her friend, who sat stiffly clutching her purse, staring straight ahead. The woman didn’t have a clue. It looked as if she’d have to help this along. CeCe opened her mouth to speak but Justin intervened.

  “Are you two related?”

  Davia turned cold eyes on him. What was this? Twenty questions? She didn’t like strangers in her business. However, CeCe didn’t seem to mind.