“Which is how I ended up with him in my class,” Zae said.
“Pardon me for asking, if I’m out of line,” Chip said, “but why was that Todd woman so anxious to see Prof. Richardson guilty of breaking a rule?”
“I gave her grandson a D in my American literature class a few years ago,” Zae said. “The boy attended MU for free because his grandmother works here, and he thought he should get good grades for free, too.”
“Prof. Richardson turned the boy around,” the dean said. “He’s one of our finest students now, and he’ll likely graduate with honors in June. Unfortunately, Birgitte still bears a certain level of ill will toward Prof. Richardson.”
“Prof. Richardson is an excellent instructor,” Chip said.
“MU is lucky to have her,” the dean said.
“Me and all my publications,” Zae remarked. “This tête-a-tête might have gone differently if I didn’t have a new article coming out, right, Hirsch?”
“Azalea, please don’t think—”
She stood, smoothing her hands over the front of her black dress. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a class to prepare for.” She stooped to retrieve her briefcase, then walked out of the room.
“She’s quite a remarkable woman,” the dean said as he, too, stood and gathered his paperwork. “All the best to you, Mr. Kish, at Washington University.”
Chip walked the dean to the door, and shook his hand.
“Off the record, may I ask the real reason you decided to transfer?”
“I applied to MU and Wash U at the same time, but MU accepted me first. I figured I’d get a leg up by taking a couple of interim classes, but then I got the acceptance from Wash U. One of the instructors I teach karate with goes there and he likes it well enough, so I thought it would be a good fit for me, too.”
“It’s a fine school. But is that the only reason?”
“You’re sure this is off the record?” Chip said.
“Strictly between you and me.”
“I’m going to Wash U for the reason you just said.”
The dean’s bushy white eyebrows rose in confusion.
“Because Prof. Richardson is a remarkable woman.”
* * *
Zae paced the airy room Cinder and Gian had designated for the nursery. The heels of her black pumps caught on the old white sheets being used for drop cloths. “Did he think I wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t on campus next week?” she asked. “He waited until the last possible minute to tell me that he wasn’t coming to MU for the regular semester, and even then, he didn’t tell me. He told Dean Sheppard!”
Cinder sat back on her heels. Tilting her head to one side, she studied the grass and rocks she had just painted near the baseboard. “It’s not like he’s going to Mars. Washington University is in Clayton. He’ll only be twenty minutes away.”
Zae almost stepped on Cinder’s palette. “That’s what pisses me off!”
“Why?”
“Because…” Zae threw up her hands in frustration and defeat. “Because…twenty minutes is too damn far away.”
“Is it now?” Cinder asked knowingly.
“I really, really l—”
“Love him?” Cinder cut in.
“—like having him around. The more I like that feeling, the more it scares me.”
“Why?”
Zae went to the window. The leaves of the sweet gum trees crowding the front lawn had begun to turn, but plenty of summer remained in the air. A strong breeze set the sheer curtains dancing, and Zae took a deep breath of the refreshing August air. “Because I know I couldn’t survive losing him,” she exhaled.
“I think his slut days are behind him.” Cinder put the finishing touches on the scales of the baby dragon she’d painted. “He hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since the wedding.”
“I don’t mean like that.” Zae choked back the grief climbing into her voice. “I’d get over him leaving. I couldn’t survive losing him.”
Cinder sat down the palette and went to Zae’s side. “The way you lost Colin,” she suggested gently.
Zae nodded. Hurt formed a lump so hard and deep, she couldn’t move words past it.
“There’s always risk involved, when you love someone.” Cinder put an arm around Zae’s waist. “You have to decide if the reward is worth the risk.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do. I haven’t fooled around with him in weeks, not since—”
“He dunked you in the whirlpool,” Cinder finished.
“I miss him,” Zae stated passionately. “Last weekend when I was sick, he came to do laundry, and all we did was sit on the sofa and watch movies with CJ. He didn’t even make a move on me. And then today, I find out he’s leaving MU. He might not be seeing anyone else, but he sure doesn’t behave as if he wants to see me.”
“You’d be surprised at what he wants. Talk to him.”
“I’m not going to beg him to be with me.”
“Is that what you want? To be with him?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There is no problem.”
“If that’s the case, why did you come over here to complain about him leaving MU?”
Zae pulled away from Cinder. Hands on her hips, she scowled and said, “I came over to visit my good friend and to see how the nursery was shaping up.” She glanced around the room. “I like the dragons and fairies you’ve painted in the reading corner, but I still hate the paint you picked out. Vanilla Crème…blah.”
“I got the impression that you’d recently become quite fond of Vanilla Crème.” Biting her lower lip to suppress a grin, Cinder returned to her palette.
“That’s nasty.”
Cinder laughed.
“Can you stay for dinner tonight?” Cinder asked.
“What are you having?”
“Pot roast over garlic mashed potatoes.”
“I guess I could stay. I have to leave around eight, though.”
“Friday night movie with CJ?”
“Nope,” Zae said, popping the end of the word. “The kids are performing at Del Brown’s tonight. I have a date.”
Cinder covered her palette and dunked her paintbrush into a tin of water. She stood and cleaned her paint-speckled hands on her oversized paint smock, one of Gian’s old dress shirts. “Who is he?”
“No one you know.”
“Then tell me his name.”
“His name doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I go through with it.”
“Is he blackmailing you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why do you have to go?”
“Because I want to.”
“You don’t sound like you want to.”
“Okay, I need to.”
“Why do you need to?”
“What are you, five years old? What’s with all the questions?”
“What’s with all the secrecy?”
“It’s not a big deal!”
“Then tell me who it is.”
“Mr. Same-Time-Next-Year!”
“I thought he lived in New York,” Cinder said.
“He’s in town representing his university at a few high schools here,” Zae said. “He’s been trying to visit for two years and he finally found an excuse. I’m really not in the mood for him.”
“Gian and I would love to hear the kids at Del Brown’s, so let’s make a night of it?” Cinder suggested. “Tonight is Sionne’s birthday, and I know he asked for the night off because he had plans with Dawn. Cory will be there, too. You won’t have to be alone with Same-Time-Next-Year. And I’d definitely like to get a look him.”
Zae snapped her fingers. “That’s not a half bad idea. Thanks, little mama. I need to get my cell phone.” She left the room to go downstairs.
“It should be an interesting night,” Cinder said, humming under her breath.
Zae backtracked and poked her head back in the door. “What’d you say?”
“Don’t be too nice,” Zae said. “I hate it when my friends like a man more than I do.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Cinder replied. “That won’t be a problem at all.”
Zae disappeared again, then doubled back once more. She peeped around the doorframe at Cinder, not at all pleased at the way she hummed to herself as she dabbed dots of sunlight on dew-tipped flower petals.
Chapter Nine
“Well, isn’t this quaint?”
The esteemed Dr. Dudley Dexter leaned forward in his chair, his right hand propped on his knee, the sharp corner of his right elbow jutting dangerously toward Gian, who shared a long, curved, padded bench with Cinder, Zae, Sionne, the twins, CJ and Cory. Zae’s flowy, long-sleeved white satin dress contrasted sharply with Dr. Dexter’s navy golf shirt and khaki shorts. He sat with his knees wide open, which drew the eye unerringly to his argyle socks and brown boat shoes.
“The décor reminds me of an exhibit I once saw in Harlem,” the doctor continued. “It was a recreation of a jazz club where some of the genre’s greats performed.” He raised the heavy tumbler containing his screwdriver and examined it in the muted glow of light from the chandelier above their table. “If I’m not mistaken, this is authentic Depression glass.” He ran his thumb over the fluted pattern pressed into the glass.
“Del Brown’s has been a part of the St. Louis riverfront since Prohibition,” Cinder volunteered. “Some of the greatest jazz and blues singers in history performed here. The current owner is the great-grandson of the man who first opened Del Brown’s.”
“It’s got quite a nice ambience,” Dr. Dexter said, projecting his voice over the loud buzz of conversations from the bar and neighboring booths and tables. “It must do a rollicking tourist trade.”
“It’s more of a hangout for locals,” Dawn said. “You won’t find advertisements for Del Brown’s in tourist guidebooks.”
“Dawn, your mother tells me that you’re studying economic history,” Dr. Dexter said. “I imagine you must know some wonderful stories of St. Louis’s heyday as one of the nation’s earliest trade capitals.”
“Shoes and beer,” Dawn said. “Then 1869 rolled around, and St. Louis lost its luster. The end.”
“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.” Dr. Dexter chuckled, displaying two rows of brilliantly white teeth set in his dark brown face.
“Not really,” Dawn said. She took Sionne’s hand. “You’re on soon. We should get you backstage.”
Sionne butted Cory off the bench seat in his haste to escape to the bar with Dawn.
“Are you performing this evening, Mr. Falaniko?” Dr. Dudley asked.
A fiery blush colored Sionne from his hairline to the open collar of his shirt. “Dawn talked me into it. She thinks you should always do something daring on your birthday.”
“What a special treat!” Dr. Dudley clapped. “I don’t know that I have the courage to sing in front of an audience other than my soap-on-a-rope.”
“Then you’re in the wrong place.” Dawn smiled sweetly. “If you come to Del Brown’s, you’d better be prepared to sing.”
“Is it like karaoke?” he asked.
Dawn’s shoulders tensed within the squarish structure of the military-style bodice of her dress. “Only in that you get to pick the song you want to sing.”
“Then I’ll give it a try!” Dr. Dudley exclaimed. “Point me in the direction of the song list.” He leaned in, whispering to Zae, “There’s nothing like a little Barry Manilow or Englebert Humperdinck to get a crowd on its feet!”
Dr. Dudley accompanied Sionne and Dawn to the bar, Dawn throwing a scowl at her mother as they went.
“He’s an interesting character,” Gian said once they were out of earshot. “Where did you say you met him, Zae?”
“I didn’t say,” she grumbled. “This was a bad idea.”
“He’s nice, Mom.” Eve smiled.
“He’s Urkel,” Cory teased.
“Let’s dance.” Eve took Cory’s hand and dragged him to the area of the scuffed hardwood floor reserved for the DJ and his monolithic speakers.
“Zae,” Gian started, nursing a sweaty pilsner of amber ale, “I have to tell you, Dr. Dudley’s the exact opposite of the sort of man I’d have thought you’d go for.”
Zae drained the last of her iced tea. “Are you trying to say he’s not like Colin?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Gian said.
“That’s why he appealed to me.”
Cinder grasped Zae’s hand. “He seems very nice and interesting, and that’s all that matters.”
“No,” Zae said tersely. “That’s not all that matters. I thought it was, but now…” She shook her head. “I think I want more. I know I want more.”
“You deserve more,” Gian said.
“More was already here,” Cinder said. She nudged Zae’s hip, directing her attention to the shallow platform of the stage.
Chip sat at a black baby grand piano gleaming with silver stars reflected from the hot spotlights beaming from the high ceiling. He pinched a cigarette between his lips, a haze of smoke surrounding his head. His face aimed at the piano keys, a bead of sweat trickled down to his jaw. He wore black trousers and suspenders, black leather uppers and a button-front shirt with a fine honey stripe that complemented the dark gold of his hair. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the muscles of his forearms as he picked out the notes of “Dream a Little Dream of Me.”
Chip didn’t look up when Dr. Dudley approached him, handing off a sheet of music.
“I didn’t know he smoked,” Zae said.
“He picked it up in the service but he quit when he was rehabilitating his leg,” Gian told him. “He only smokes here, far as I’ve seen.”
“I didn’t know he could play the piano, either,” Zae remarked.
“He’s a one-man band,” Gian said. “He also plays the trombone, saxophone, drums, oboe, trumpet and clarinet. He sat first chair in some youth symphony in Nashville when he was a kid.”
“I had no idea he was so accomplished,” Zae mused quietly.
Cinder brought her cranberry juice on the rocks to her lips, whispering to Zae. “You said Mr. Same-Time-Next-Year was tall, dark and handsome.”
“Actually, I said he was a tall dork, and handsome,” Zae quietly snapped. “And why didn’t you tell me that Chip played here?”
“I assumed you knew,” Cinder said. “You’ve spent so much time together lately.”
“How often do you all come down here?” Zae asked. In the weeks since her daughters had moved on campus, she wasn’t as up-to-date on their evening and weekend activities.
“Every Friday,” Cory said. “Dawn says it helps keep her instrument sharp.”
“Are Sionne and Dawn an official item yet?” Cinder asked.
“Might as well be.” Zae spotted the pair at the stand of sheet music to the right of the stage. Dawn straightened Sionne’s collar while he studied a piece of music. “They’re always together.”
“Sionne is so sweet to her,” Cinder said.
“He’s the only boyfriend she’s ever had who she hasn’t been able to run all over,” Zae chuckled. “He’s so easy-going and attentive, and Dawn…”
“Dawn can turn someone to stone with a glance,” Gian suggested.
“You know what they say.” Cinder grinned. “Opposites attract.”
“Don’t they, though,” Gian chuckled, watching Dr. Dudley snap his fingers on the one and three as he stood, tapping his foot out of rhythm, before the brass instruments on stage.
A waitress in a white blouse and flared black satin tap pants came to the table, blocking their view of Dr. Dudley. “What can I get you folks?” she asked, her bright red lips pulled into a smile.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Cinder said.
“Could I get another iced tea?” Zae asked.
“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” CJ said, “hold the gin and see if you can’t slip me a double twist of lime.”
“Sure thing.” The waitress chuckled.
“Thanks, sugar,” CJ said, winking at her as she left to fill their orders.
“What’s with the bowtie?” Gian asked him. “Who are you supposed to be, a reincarnated Cab Calloway?”
“He’s going through a Johnny Dodds phase,” Zae explained. She reached past Eve to straighten CJ’s bowtie. “The wardrobe is much more affordable than when he was all about Cab Calloway.”
“Cutaway coats and tails are expensive in kids’ sizes.” Eve laughed.
“Forgive my ignorance, kiddo,” Gian said, “but who is Johnny Dodds?”
“One of the greatest New Orleans jazz clarinetists ever,” CJ answered. “We learned about him in music class. He recorded with Jelly Roll Morton and a whole bunch of other jazz masters.”
“Cool,” Gian said.
“CJ, you’re the one who’s cool,” Cinder said. “When I do graphic design presentations in schools, I get so frustrated because it seems that all the kids want to be rap stars. It’s nice to see a young man so interested in a classic art form like jazz.”
“Thanks, sis,” CJ said. “I got my licorice stick. I’m going onstage with the other cats later and I’ll blow sweet chops for you. Chip is a real finger zinger on the ivories, much better than that Joe Below they had here last week. If you squares will excuse me, I’ve gotta water the daisies before I hog the spot.”
Cinder pressed back a laugh until the crowd swallowed CJ on his way to the men’s room. “Zae, I have no idea what he just said, but he sounded so cute!”
“Did he just call us ‘squares’?” Cory said.
“Cute is one word for it,” Zae said. “He said he’s got his clarinet and he wants to play with the band to show you how good he’s getting. He also said that Chip plays very well and that he’s better than the pianist who played here last week. He did indeed call you all squares—I was not included in that description—and he excused himself to pee before he goes onstage.”
“He keeps calling me daddy-o,” Cory said. “It’s a good thing I’m dating his sister, or I’d have knocked his block off.”
Everything in Between Page 13
