by Sandra Kitt
Chloe sighed inwardly. He didn’t have a clue.
“You have promises to keep,” she quoted, staying cool and not allowing the fact that, after four years of passing one another on campus, sitting side by side in world studies, that at the eleventh hour as they were about to go their separate ways forever, she’d finally gotten Kevin Stayton to notice her.
He smiled ruefully. “I have to be careful about that. I mean, making promises.”
“Chloe! We made it. I know we’re late…”
Chloe glanced beyond Kevin to the couple advancing across the field. She could tell by their breathlessness that they’d either not been able to find her in the crowds of students earlier or they’d just arrived.
The woman, short and stout and dressed in one of her Sunday church ensembles, took Chloe in a light embrace and kissed her cheek.
“We’re so happy for you,” the woman said.
“We know this was real important to you,” said the man.
He was tall and broad. His dark suit was the only one he owned and was a tad too small for his frame. He, too, gave Chloe a brief hard hug and squeezed her shoulder.
“Sorry we don’t have a gift or anything for you,” he apologized.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Chloe smiled at him. Aware that Kevin Stayton stood watching this tableau she took a deep breath and turned to face him.
Kevin stepped forward and thrust his hand out to the man standing next to her.
“I’m Kevin Stayton. Congratulations, Mr. Jackson. Mrs. Jackson. I know you’re proud of your daughter,” Kevin offered with charm and a polished demeanor.
Silently the man and woman exchanged glances. Then looked at Chloe. She turned to Kevin.
“This is Mr. and Mrs. Fields. Harold and Nettie.”
“We’re Chloe’s foster parents,” Nettie Fields clarified with a calm smile.
“Oh,” Kevin said, nodding. “Sorry, I…”
“No need to be sorry, son. We couldn’t be more happy for this girl if she’d been one of our own. Right, Nettie? And today sure means a lot to Chloe.”
There was an awkward silence. The Fields, being simple and honest people, thought nothing of Kevin’s understandable mistake. Chloe, on the other hand, felt like she was falling down a rabbit hole, rushing back into a past that was undefined and blurred in her memory. By circumstances, she knew she shouldn’t even be there graduating from Hollington. She quietly squared off with Kevin, their gazes meeting and holding. His darkening gaze told her he got it—no further explanation was needed. With an imperceptible nod of his head Kevin lifted a corner of his mouth.
“She’s going to go far,” he said to the Fields. “I can tell she’s going to have a great future. Most likely to succeed.”
“Thanks. Nice of you to say so,” Chloe murmured.
As the four of them faced each other with nothing more to say, Kevin heard his name being called behind him. They all turned to the female voice and saw a young woman attempting to trot across the grass, unsteady in high heels. Her graduation robe hung open, and they could see her body swaying unsteadily but seductively in a pretty spring dress. The show was all for Kevin.
“That’s my cue,” Kevin said to them all, backing away toward the woman.
Chloe could not see how he could have mistaken the advancing alluring sight with her. Curve for curve, attribute for attribute, there was no contest. Like her, however, the young woman was tall and thin. Her hair was upswept in the back, while Chloe’s was short and only seemed to be longer because of the way it was combed. Chloe could see that their complexions were similar. Medium-brown. Plus from behind, all you could see was their robes.
Kevin had made an honest mistake.
“Seems like a nice young man,” Mrs. Fields said quietly. “Is he a good friend?”
Chloe shook her head, watching the couple walk away, their arms around one another. “This is the second time we’ve ever spoken.”
Her foster mother looked incredulous. “In four years?”
“He seemed to have a lot to say when we walked up on you. Sure there’s nothin’ going on?” Mr. Fields cackled good-naturedly.
“Not a chance,” Chloe responded caustically, despite an infuriating flash recall of Kevin kissing her.
“I’m so sorry we’re late,” Mrs. Fields said sincerely. “Harold got lost.”
“Well, tell her how we got started late. Nettie couldn’t find her good purse. It ain’t all my fault,” he groused.
“I’m glad you got here,” Chloe said.
Mrs. Fields looked around. “Did we miss everything?”
“Just a lot of talking,” Chloe answered kindly, not wanting to blame them or make them feel bad. The truth of the matter was the couple didn’t have to come at all. It wasn’t part of their agreement.
Mrs. Fields sighed, remorseful.
Chloe realized that she would have to rescue the afternoon and protect the memory of the day. She’d have to take responsibility for it to end on an up note.
“You’ve never been here before. Would you like to look around?”
“Sure is pretty,” Mr. Fields commented as they fell into step together and headed back toward the quad, around which all the buildings were laid out. “Not like where we live, right, Nettie?”
“Well, we can’t always help where we’re born and raised,” Mrs. Fields sighed. “But Chloe got lucky, thank the good Lord.”
Chloe smiled warmly at Mrs. Fields. “I also got lucky and had you and Mr. Fields.”
Nettie Fields brushed the compliment aside with an airy wave of her hand. “We didn’t do much. Why, look at her now. Don’t she look grown up, Harold?”
“Sure do.”
Mrs. Fields gasped and stopped walking. “Honey, we didn’t take you away from anything, did we? You know, maybe meeting friends later. Was that young man about to ask you to join him?”
Chloe shook her head, looking down at her feet and inexpensive pumps.
She wished.
“No, he wasn’t. Kevin Stayton and I never hung out together. He’s not really a friend.”
She hoped that the longing and schoolgirl crush weren’t obvious. It was one thing to hold out hope with such a ridiculous thought. It was another for anyone to know and only make fun of her.
Chloe knew exactly the direction Kevin and his girlfriend had walked. Covertly she let her eyes find them, standing in the shadows of a tree near the entrance to the student lounge. They were embracing and kissing, unmindful of anyone else walking by making comments about their open display of affection.
She hardly thought Kevin Stayton was going to remember her, let alone give her a second thought.
Chapter 1
“Hey, girl! It’s good to see you.”
Chloe was in midstride to shake hands with the gregarious petite young woman who greeted her but was never given the chance. Kyra Dixon ignored her outstretched hand and, instead, reached out her arms. She was expecting a hug that Chloe found herself obliged to give.
“Oh…okay. Hi,” Chloe managed awkwardly, as she hugged Kyra back and found herself engulfed in the whiff of floral perfume.
Kyra laughed. “You forgot the Hollington Hello? What’s this shaking hands stuff? I want some sugar, girl.”
Chloe tried to glance around the other guests having lunch in the faculty dining room and was relieved to see that no one was paying attention to this dramatic greeting. Not at all used to this from someone she hadn’t seen in ten years, Chloe nonetheless gave in and followed Kyra’s lead. Even as she would have withdrawn after they touched cheek to cheek and air-kissed, Chloe found Kyra’s hello more suited to a favorite girlfriend or a beloved relative. They had not really been friends as undergraduates and certainly hadn’t moved in the same circles.
With a gentle push Kyra directed Chloe to the empty chair opposite her at the large square table. Chloe settled herself in the comfortable high-back chair and, in the thirty seconds it took Kyra to take her own seat again, she closely
observed the other woman.
Kyra was dressed in an eye-catching broad floral-print black-and-red silk blouse, worn with a black skirt. She wore black two-inch heels, probably in the hope that they would add height to her petite frame. She managed to look professional, feminine and cheerful. Her hair was worn straight to chin level and was parted off center so that it curved gently to frame her pretty face. As if on cue Kyra was making her own observations of Chloe.
“Your hair used to be short.”
Chloe sat back and spread her napkin over her lap.
“Actually, I wore it mostly cornrowed. It was easier to take care of and cost less than going to the beauty parlor every two weeks. I stopped wearing the cornrows when I got my first job. I wanted to look—”
“More mainstream.” Kyra nodded, knowingly. She eyed Chloe thoughtfully. “Is it all yours or a weave?”
“Mine,” Chloe said with a small, satisfied smile. “Every strand.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” Kyra sighed, settling back in her chair that seemed to swallow her small frame. She crossed her legs. “We’re still putting ourselves through hoops to be taken seriously in business. I can tell you I would not be PR director if I appeared Afrocentric. Hollington has a different message to send out about its students.”
“So did I. For myself,” Chloe said.
“I hear you. So…when I was told that the Alumni Association had asked you to organize the homecoming this fall, I said Chloe who?” Kyra remarked, chuckling at her own humor. “It took a while before I could recall you. Then I remembered you and I were tortured together in that African dance class with that professor who was eighty if she was a day!”
Kyra broke out in a merry giggle, making it impossible for Chloe to take offense. To her Kyra’s observation was proof that she’d done a good job of staying under the radar as an undergraduate. Chloe knew she had good reasons to be cautious, but Kyra didn’t need to know what they were.
Anyway, she remembered Kyra from the aforementioned dance class but only because Kyra had been terrible at the ritual movements that called for a looseness of limbs and gyration of hips and butt. Instead, Kyra treated the class lightly, becoming the loveable uncoordinated participant who broke into laughter at her own mistakes and was accused of not having any natural rhythm. Crossing her legs and straightening the hem of her summer linen dress, Chloe also recalled that at first she’d thought Kyra was silly. But she’d come to admire that, rather than take a two-point elective class too seriously, Kyra had set about simply having fun and probably enjoying herself more than anyone. And she passed the class.
“It was either that dance class or the history of textiles,” Chloe contributed to the memory.
“Right!” Kyra nodded, rolling her eyes. “I figured with the dancing maybe I’d get into my African roots. Forget that!” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, giggling again.
Having been presented with the single-paged menu for the day, both Chloe and Kyra selected the grilled salmon with julienne carrots and saffron rice.
Chloe’s assumption of a straightforward business meeting with Kyra had to be revisited as her former Hollington College classmate proceeded to treat her like a long-lost friend, gossiping about other classmates, school scandals and changes in college policies.
“I was also surprised to hear from you,” Chloe said. “I didn’t know you’d been hired by Hollington. How long have you been here?”
Kyra sighed as their moment of levity faded away. “Six years. I was just another assistant before they made me PR director. Let me tell you, it feels so strange to be back here and not have to worry about term papers and grades. As an administrator I have a whole ’nother perspective,” she said wryly. “Remember how much we held the faculty and staff with suspicion? They were all, ‘the other.’ Now I’m one of them.”
Chloe remembered no such thing—only how grateful she was to have been chosen to attend Hollington on a full scholarship. She hadn’t treated any of those four years lightly.
“That’s fine. You can see and appreciate both sides.”
“That’s true, but it’s an interesting balancing act. I totally empathize with the students, having survived myself as one here at Hollington. But I also understand the responsibility from the college point of view. And there are other memories.” Kyra shrugged.
Chloe watched Kyra, the girlish giggling replaced by an articulate but animated and attractive young woman.
“So, what is it you do, exactly?”
“I advocate for the college. I look for ways, and people, to keep up our reputation and profile as a contender in the higher academic community, especially for African-American students. I work to get us good press and try to find high schools with the caliber of student who’d be a good fit for Hollington.”
Their lunch was served, and both women busied themselves with enjoying it. Finally, after more light conversation and as they were finishing, Kyra sat back in her chair. Her expression became thoughtful, her voice quiet.
“Remember Terrence Franklin?”
Chloe considered a moment. “I think so. Hot athlete, right? Very popular. I think he’s a pro football player.”
“Was,” Kyra corrected. “He got cut after his last serious injury. Messed up his knee. The boy is out of the game,” she ended flippantly.
“Oh,” Chloe said. She wasn’t a football fan, herself.
“Anyway, Hollington would like to have him come back to the college. We want to offer Terrence the position of head coach or even athletic director. It’s my job to try and sign him up. It’s not going to be easy,” she said, frowning slightly.
“Why not?”
“Oh…lots of reasons. Money and title and benefits. Let’s face it. Being a coach at a college is a huge step down from being watched by zillions of fans on Monday Night Football. Terrence and I…we have a history.”
“Oh,” Chloe said again. She didn’t know anything about that, either.
“Yeah…” She paused. “We were engaged when we were students. So, it could get complicated.”
“Maybe not. Who knows? Terrence may be looking for something stable and comfortable now that his pro career is over.”
Kyra quickly revived herself and smiled brightly. “Not your problem. And that’s not why I wanted to meet with you today. I wanted to talk about the homecoming. You do realize it’s also the tenth anniversary of our graduation in 1999?”
“Yes, I know,” Chloe said, absently watching their plates being removed. She declined the dessert menu. “That’s one of the reasons why I agreed to take it on. You know, I own and manage an event planning business. I’ve been thinking a lot about October.”
“Well, I hope you haven’t just been thinking about it. It’s already July, and homecoming is on the calendar for the second weekend of October. That’s three months.”
Chloe smiled confidently. “I’m on it. The weekend schedule is pretty much set. The invitations went out in June.”
“I saw it. Fabulous! You used the school colors very well. The invitation looked classy but fun. I like that the Hollington Lion mascot is silhouetted on the front, with a crown tilted at an angle on his head. He looks large and in charge.” She laughed and said, “The varsity guys will appreciate that.”
“We’re already starting to get registration RSVPs. I think it’s up to about two hundred.”
“Good. Now, what do you have in mind for Friday night?”
“Well, I thought there should be a private cocktail party for the elite alumni who are big contributors to the college. You know…the president can tell them how important and wonderful they are. I’ve invited the trustees.”
“Make sure you have Lucius Gray on the list. He’s an alumni and a very successful attorney in Atlanta. Also Beverly Clark. Her mother and a cousin graduated Hollington.”
“I’m glad you mentioned Beverly. You know she was homecoming queen in 1998, the fall before we graduated, and I want her to ride in the parade floa
t on Sunday again as homecoming queen. I’m having trouble reaching her. She hasn’t returned any of my e-mails or phone calls.”
Kyra pursed her lips. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to Beverly. She and I were best friends in college. We were in the same sorority.” Kyra glanced briefly at her. “What sorority were you in?”
Chloe was not about to admit to the embarrassment and rejection she’d experienced when she hadn’t been asked to pledge by any of the sororities. With her limited resources, cheap clothes and troubled background, it was probably just as well. The less anyone knew about her the better.
“Oh, I didn’t bother,” Chloe said, trying to appear a little indifferent. “I didn’t have time. I worked several part-time jobs. I was on scholarship so I had to keep up good grades.” She chuckled lightly, to cover that encroaching reminder that she didn’t fit in and never really belonged.
“Oh, but you were valedictorian at graduation, right? So it all paid off.”
“Yes. It all paid off,” Chloe reflected quietly.
Kyra signed for their lunch, and they left the small elegantly appointed room and headed back to her office. It was in one of the newer administration buildings along the south side of the college quad. On their walk back Kyra pointed out to Chloe other changes to the campus. Chloe admitted that since graduating she’d only been back on campus a few times. Kyra talked about the new stadium and science building with state-of-the-art labs and equipment. There was also restoration taking place on one of the original buildings, designed in the style of Stanford White.
As Kyra accepted messages from her assistant and walked into her office, she went back to the subject of the first night of homecoming weekend.
“Okay, so I know about the Friday reception with President Morrow. What about everybody else that night?”
“A meet and greet in the library gallery followed by Night Owl chats. I’m setting up rooms for many of the special interest clubs or groups so people can easily find classmates who had similar interests. Like, one for the sports jocks, one for the humanities. You know, art and creative writing students, music majors. And one for gays and lesbians—”
