“Today would be great. I get off at four. I could be there by, say, four-thirty. Would that work for you?”
“Perfect. You have the address?”
“Yep.”
“So I’ll see you at four-thirty.”
“Looking forward to it.”
She smiled. “Have a great day.”
“You, too. And good luck with the inspection.”
“Thanks.”
Verna slowly hung up the phone, and for reasons she didn’t dare examine, she realized that she felt incredibly good.
The day was packed with the staff meeting, schedule juggling, the two-hour inspection and then haggling with one of her vendors, yet Verna still found herself watching the clock and waiting for four-thirty.
As prepared as she was for Ronald’s arrival, she felt nervous when one of the case managers came to her office to tell her that a Mr. Morris was waiting to see her in the family room.
“Thanks. I’ll be right there.”
Why was her heart racing and her thoughts suddenly fuzzy? She’d given hundreds of tours, and countless pitches extolling the virtues of Home. This was no different. She slipped on her suit jacket and went to meet Mr. Morris.
Ronald felt her presence before he saw her and turned toward the open door. She was prettier than he remembered, and he caught an instant of uncertainty in her light brown eyes and a hesitation in her step that surprised him in an oddly pleasant way. It showed a hint of vulnerability that wasn’t present when they’d first met.
Her mint-green suit was professional yet feminine at the same time. The burst of color at her throat from the scarf she wore brought out the warmth of her skin.
“Mr. Morris.” She extended her hand as she entered. “Thank you for coming.”
“I try to keep my promises,” he said, shaking her hand. “How did the inspection go?”
She smiled and he noticed a tiny dimple in her right cheek.
“Quite well. They’re always looking under the beds for dust bunnies,” she said, and he had a feeling she was only half joking. “But I run a tight ship. My staff knows what I expect and they know what to expect from me. We keep each other in check.”
Ronald nodded as she spoke, listening and not listening. He watched the way her full lips moved, the way her face became animated and her brows rose over her wide ebony-lashed eyes.
“So…we can get started, if you’re ready.”
“Uh, sure,” he said, forcing himself to refocus.
“We’ll start on the top floor and work our way down.”
“How did you manage to get the neighborhood to agree to have the facility right in the middle of a residential block?” Ronald asked while they walked up the carpeted stairs. He admired the artwork that hung on the walls and recognized several pieces by John Biggers and Elizabeth Catlett.
“It wasn’t easy at first. We met with the community board for months, as well as the block association. We had to smooth a lot of ruffled feathers. Too often residential facilities have totally disrupted a neighborhood. But we assured everyone involved about the type of program we were running and how we planned to maintain the integrity of the neighborhood. We also impressed upon them the importance of having a home-like environment for the kids. It took some time,” she added, mounting the last flight of stairs. “But we got everyone on board and we haven’t had any problems or complaints since we opened.”
“I’m sure it’s in large part due to the tight ship you run,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder and caught the playfulness in his eyes. “Thank you.”
They reached the top floor.
“This is our residential floor. We have four bedrooms, two on either side of the hall, two bathrooms and a common space. They’re mini apartments but they give our girls a sense of having something of their own.”
Verna knocked on the door of 4A. Several moments later a young girl who looked to be about fifteen answered.
“Hi, Ms. Verna.” She took a quick look at Ronald.
“April, this is Mr. Morris. He’s a guidance counselor at Lexington High. I’m giving him the five-cent tour. Mind if we come in? You can show him around.”
For a moment, Ronald felt as if he’d been hurled back in time. Maybe it was her eyes or the curve of her chin that reminded him of someone he’d known years ago. His heart inexplicably raced, but it was April’s cheery voice that brought him back to reality. He blinked several times to clear his vision.
“Sure.” The girl beamed and stood a little straighter. “Come in.”
She stepped aside and Verna and Ronald walked in. “This is our living room,” April said.
The room was furnished with a small sofa and two matching chairs in a warm bronze color. Frilly white curtains hung at the windows, and a short wooden wall unit held a television and a compact stereo system.
“We spend a lot of time in here,” April said, picking up a jacket from the couch and a discarded backpack from the floor. She draped it over her shoulder.
“Very nice. Who do you share the apartment with?” He couldn’t stop staring at her, but he had to. He couldn’t have her thinking the wrong thing about him.
“Carmen Long. She’s pretty cool.” She grinned at Verna.
“They’ve come a long way,” Verna said. Her right brow rose in emphasis, causing April to blush.
“Yes, ma’am, we sure did.” The teenager drew in a quick breath and pointed out the efficiency kitchen that opened onto the living room. Then she took them to her bedroom, which for a fifteen-year-old was amazingly neat.
“Looks like you ladies take good care of your apartment,” he said, making conversation.
“We try. We like having something to call our own, ya know?”
“I totally understand.”
“Carol and Yvonne have the other two bedrooms,” Verna said. “The setup is similar on the other side of the hall. Thanks for the tour, April.” Verna headed toward the door. “How was school today?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Pretty good. I aced my Spanish test.”
Verna turned to look at her. “Congratulations. Excellent! I told you you could do it.” She placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You can accomplish anything you put your mind to. You determine your life path, not the other way around.”
April shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes, Ms. Verna.”
“Okay…so I will see you later. Keep up the good work.”
“Good to meet you, April,” Ronald said.
“You, too.”
“Nice girl,” he commented as they descended the stairs, still trying to shake off the shock of meeting April and the memories that seeing her stirred within him.
“She’s been here about six months. When we got her she was beyond angry. She’d been through at least a dozen foster homes, a couple of group homes, kicked out of school. No family.”
“Hmm. You’d never know it,” he said, his tone thoughtful.
“We work hard at changing lives. April…so far…is one of our success stories.”
They stopped on the third floor. “This is our library,” she said, opening a sliding door. “Small but functional.”
Books were broken down by subject and lined the walls on built-in shelves. There was a small couch, several chairs with tables in front and three computer workstations. A woven rug in brilliant colors of red, bright green and golds took up the entire center of the room. Two teenage boys sat at the computers.
“Alex and Shawn, this is Mr. Morris.”
They turned from the computer screens and scrambled to their feet. To Ronald’s surprise they approached him and extended their hands.
“Alex Cortez.”
“Shawn Daniels.”
“Pleasure to meet you both. What are you working on?” He nodded toward the computers.
“Homework,” Alex said.
“Facebook,” Shawn admitted with a sheepish grin.
“Homework all done, Shawn?” Verna asked.<
br />
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You guys need a ride home this evening?”
They both nodded. “I’ll get someone to drive you.” She looked at her watch. “Be ready by six.”
She turned back toward the door.
“That library looks pretty well stocked. Better than ours.”
“We get a lot of donations for the library. The staff purchases books and I have it built into a budget. We’re on an honor system. If any of the kids take a book out of the room, they sign for it on the sheet and check it off when they bring it back.”
“What about the computers?”
“The computers were donated from the Gates Foundation and from Apple. So we have Macs and PCs throughout the building.”
“Amazing,” he said in admiration. “We need you to come and revamp our school.”
Verna chuckled. “Believe me, it’s a team effort. And a lot of favors.”
She took him to the rec room, where he met more of the kids, then to the kitchen and common dining area and the offices.
The last stop was the backyard, which boasted a small vegetable garden waiting to be tilled.
“All the kids help with the planting and gardening. It’s not only cost effective for us to grow our own vegetables, but it’s incredibly therapeutic for the kids. There’s something about working with the earth, planting and watching a tiny seed bud into something beautiful.”
Ronald watched the rapturous expression on her face, felt her passion for what she did and heard the pride that lifted her voice.
“Like the kids,” he said softly.
She focused on him and a slow smile moved across her mouth. “Yeah…” She nodded. “Like the kids. All anyone needs is someone to care.”
Their gazes connected and a quiet understanding passed between them.
“Well…” Verna said on a breath. “That’s the tour. We can go back to my office.”
“Sure.” He followed her inside, totally impressed with Someplace Like Home. And more impressed with Verna Scott.
CHAPTER THREE
Verna opened the door to her office and they went inside. “So what do you think?” she asked, offering him a seat.
“You have a wonderful facility. The brochures don’t do it justice.” He sat down. “How can I help?”
Verna grinned. “I was hoping you would say that. Right now, as I mentioned at the conference, we could really use volunteers who are willing to basically serve as mentors to the kids. Come in a day or so a week, talk with them, maybe take them out sometimes. And your skills as a counselor would certainly help.”
“Not a problem. My schedule is pretty tight during the week, but I can come in on weekends.”
“That would be fine. I have to warn you, though, the house is pretty hectic on the weekends.” She chuckled.
“Trust me, I’m used to hectic.”
She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Where are my manners? Can I offer you something to drink or eat? Gail is fixing dinner.”
“I don’t want to impose. But some juice or water would be fine.”
She popped up from her seat. “I’ll be right back.”
Ronald watched her leave and realized how good he felt. He glanced around the room and it screamed Verna Scott—classy, cozy and inviting. He got up and wandered over to the book-lined wall.
The volumes were mostly texts and reference books on child psychology, but a few novels were tucked on the shelves. He pulled one out. It was an autographed copy of Glorious by Bernice L. McFadden. He flipped it over and read the back. Then reached for another. Uptown by Donna Grant and Virginia Deberry, plus works by Baldwin, Morrison, Ann Petry, Gabriel García Márquez, Ru Freeman, as well as several autobiographies. Her literary tastes seemed to span the gamut. He was just returning a copy of Obama’s memoir to the shelf when Verna came back into the room.
“Sorry.” He jerked his head toward the shelves. “I’m a sucker for books. My biggest vice.”
“Really?” she asked, wide-eyed. “Me, too. I love to read. Ever since I was a child.” At the mention of her childhood, a shadow crossed her features. She tugged in a breath, walked over and set two glasses of juice on the table. “Hope you like mango. It’s a house favorite.” Her eyes looked everywhere but at him.
“It’s fine.” He studied her for a moment, sensing a change in her as if she’d been pulled in a different direction. “Everything okay?”
Her gaze jerked toward him. “Yes.” She reached for her glass and took a swallow. “So, which weekend do you think you want to start?” she asked, getting back on solid ground.
“This coming weekend works for me. What time do you need me to be here?”
“How’s noon?”
“Not a problem.” He finished off his juice and returned the glass to the table. “I guess I better get going.”
“I should, too.”
“Do you live nearby?”
“About fifteen minutes away.”
“Don’t tell me you live in Bedford-Stuyvesant.”
She angled her head. “And if I did,” she hedged.
“Then we’d have one more thing in common.”
She laughed out loud. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I live on Decatur and Patchen.”
“And I’m on Macon and Tompkins.”
“Neighbors,” they said in unison.
“I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before now,” Ronald said.
“This small world is still a big place. How long have you lived in the area?”
“Pretty much all my life,” he told her. “I grew up in Bushwick. And moved to Bed-Stuy as a teen.” Where he’d met Patrice and his life changed, he thought. “I left and moved to D.C. for college. Thought about staying there permanently. Got a job in counseling down there for about six years, but I missed home. Came back about five years ago and I’ve been here ever since.”
Verna reached for her coat on the rack and Ronald hurried to her side to help her put it on.
Her pulse skipped. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. For an instant she shut her eyes and enjoyed the moment.
“Hey, why don’t we grab a bite of dinner away from work.”
She turned and she was practically in his arms. “Dinner? Now?”
“Yes and yes. We could talk. You could tell me about some of the kids.”
“I…okay. Sure. Why not.”
“I know just the place.” He extended his arm toward the door. “After you.”
Verna totally forgot about doing her end of shift rounds or anything that had to do with work. All she could think about was the feel of Ronald’s arm brushing against hers, the inviting scent of him and the way he looked at her. It might be all in her head. She could be imagining more than what was actually happening. But for now she was going to enjoy her little fantasy.
They stepped out into the twilight. Verna stopped.
“Did you drive?”
“Yes. You?”
“So did I. Where did you have in mind? I’ll meet you.”
“Night of the Cookers on Fulton.”
Her expression brightened. “The seared-salmon salad is to die for.”
“I take it you like the place,” he teased.
She scrunched up her face. “Kinda.”
“Come on—let’s go.”
“How many?” the hostess asked when they stepped in.
“Two,” Ronald said.
“Right this way.”
They followed her past the bar, which was filled for a Tuesday night. The tables at the front of the restaurant were taken as well. They turned the corner and the hostess seated them at a private table in the back, where a live jazz quartet was playing.
“This is a treat,” Verna said, as Ronald helped her out of her coat and into her seat.
“Not a lot of people know that they have live music on Tuesdays. It’s become a favorite haunt of mine.”
“You eat out a lot?” she asked, but
really wanted to know if he went alone or with someone.
“Probably more than I should. But when you live by yourself, it’s just nice to get out, especially after a long day at work.”
“Oh.” She swallowed and focused on the band.
“What about you?”
She looked at him then glanced away. “I don’t get out much.” She shrugged her right shoulder. “Work…the house.”
The waitress stopped at their table. “What can I get you?” she asked. “Something to drink?”
“I’ll have an iced tea,” Verna said.
“Make that two.”
“Do you want to order now, or do you need more time?”
Ronald looked at Verna.
“I’ll have the seared-salmon salad with tahini dressing.”
“Make that two.”
The waitress picked up the menus from the table. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
“That was easy,” Ronald said with a grin.
Verna tilted her head to the side. “It was, wasn’t it.” She looked at him and wondered why she felt so incredibly comfortable around Ronald. It was as if she’d always known him.
“This is going to sound crazy, but I feel like…I’ve known you a long time.” Ronald’s brows drew closer together as if he was having a hard time believing what he’d just said. He smiled. “Crazy, right?”
“What’s crazy,” she said softly, “is that I was thinking the exact same thing.”
He leaned forward. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Her laughter was soft and warm.
“Wow.” He shook his head in amusement. “We seem to be racking up the things we have in common.”
Verna shifted in her seat and looked away.
The waitress returned with their iced tea. “Your meals will be out momentarily.”
“So, we’re supposed to be talking about the kids,” Ronald said, seeing the veil come down over Verna’s eyes. He needed to back off. This was the second time he’d seen that trapped-rabbit look come over her. And both times it was after he touched on something personal. This was business, he reminded himself, and it was presumptuous of him to think otherwise.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Thanks for suggesting dinner,” Verna said. They stood in front of her building. “I can’t remember the last time I was out on a weeknight. You really didn’t have to follow me home.”
More Than Words, Volume 7 Page 10
