by Tiana Laveen
Chancellor looked around the room, gripped with instant curiosity. One of the most melodic and prettiest voices was saying some pretty mundane things, and one of those was a ‘thank you’ meant for him.
There she is…
He was now staring at a Black woman in a bright red shrug, black leggings, and ballerina flats. Her complexion was a rich hickory with reddish undertones, and her black hair hit just below her shoulders in thick, shiny ringlets. Sitting there with her long legs crossed in an elegant way, her dark eyes twinkled and she exuded a special warmth and tenderness in her smile.
Who is that?
Seemingly reading his mind, Deloris spoke up. “Oh, everyone, we announced it in the online flyer as well as the ‘Nextdoor’ app, but this is our new neighbor, Bailey Hawthorn. Bailey, why don’t you introduce yourself?”
“Sure, okay.” The woman got to her feet and clasped her hands together as if about to recite a moving speech. All eyes were on her, and she appeared slightly nervous, but perhaps he was just reading into things. Chancellor leaned forward, suddenly interested in the meeting after all… “As Deloris stated, my name is Bailey Hawthorn. I have lived in Wisconsin my entire life, but I am originally from Northpoint. I’m a voiceover artist. I—”
“A what?” someone with a nasal voice questioned.
“A voiceover artist, meaning I do television commercials for ads for businesses, movie trailers, radio promos, things like that.”
“Ohhhh! Wow, that’s pretty neat. Full-time, huh?” the voice came again.
“Uh, yes, it’s full-time. I also sing professional jingles for company ads as well. Let’s see.” She looked down at her shoes, then back at the small gathering around her. “I have my Bernie. He’s an 8-year-old collie. For fun I like to take walks, vacation, do puzzles, cook soups and blog.”
“Oh, you have a blog? I do, too!” Winnie called out, a nosy woman who was notorious for trying to get people to sign up for her various fundraisers and half-baked pyramid scam ideas.
“Yes, I blog about all sorts of things. I also—”
“Married? Any kids?” Winnie probed on.
“Uh, no, not married and I don’t have any children.”
Chancellor readjusted again in his seat, holding on to her every word. Things had definitely become interesting.
“Why aren’t you married? You seem nice enough.”
Oh, for God’s sake! Give the woman a break! What is this, an inquisition?
Chancellor stared daggers at the intrusive woman. She grated on his nerves until they were raw and bleeding.
“Winnie, let’s give Bailey a chance to catch her breath, all right?” Deloris interrupted with a tight grin.
“Well.” Bailey shrugged. “I guess that’s it, really. It’s nice to meet you all and I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you better.”
When she reclaimed her seat, several people took that moment to welcome her, invite her to programs, dinners, and the like.
But Chancellor was too busy staring at her, tracing the feminine curves of her body with a steady gaze. It had been a while since a good piece of eye candy had been offered in Fox Point. Milwaukee’s terrible back-to-back snowstorms tended to trap people in their homes, but now, not only was the weather improving, there appeared to be other things heating up, too…
CHAPTER TWO
Soup and Salt ’N Pepa
…One week later
“Ahhhh! Push it!” Bailey sat behind the wheel in her Volvo XC60, enjoying one of her favorite classic rap tunes of all time. She was almost home, ready to plop into bed with a slice of leftover veggie pizza with extra cheese after spending ten hours in Rantaro Studio, producing an eHarmony ad. She pulled up to a red light, delighted she was a mere five minutes away from home and would soon get comfy and cozy for the evening. It had been a blustery day, the kind that hurt to the bone. But there was nothing that was going to stand in her way between this good Salt-N-Pepa tune and her warm blanket.
“Ohhh, baby, baby! Baby, baby!” she went on, ignoring her scratchy throat.
I need to fix some hot tea with lemon and honey as soon as I hit the door.
“Get up on this!” She waved her arm about as if she had a lasso trying to reel in an ornery cow.
Suddenly, loud chuckling could be heard in the near distance. She turned to her right to see the tall, handsome, yet somewhat reserved, fellow from the homeowner association meeting. The man had dark chocolate brown hair, with a bit of graying at the temples. She’d noticed him right away, as soon as he’d stepped inside of Deloris’ home. In fact, she noticed everyone seemed to look his way when he entered, but he appeared oblivious to the attention.
He had an air about him, like he was someone important, or perhaps, he just carried himself that way. The bridge of his nose was long, and the end keen. His skin was deeply tanned, as if he spent his days in the California sun, though based on his dialect, he was definitely from Wisconsin, just like herself. The perfect tulip shaped lips completed his image of beauty. Yes … he was beautiful indeed. She rolled down her passenger side window, and he followed suit. Sitting in his nice car with a titled grin, he peered at her with intense, light gray eyes.
“I’m sorry, you just seemed to be having a really good time.” He obviously stifled another bout of laughter as her booming music poured out from the open window. She reached out to shut it down as a wave of embarrassment washed over her. Not a shy person by nature, the flush of warmth across her cheeks came as a surprise to her.
“I do this to relax … listen to energetic music. You were at the meeting last week, right?”
“Yes, my name is Chancellor. Yours is Bailey, if I’m correct?” She nodded. A car honked behind them. “Green light!” he said cheerfully. “Welcome to the neighborhood. If you need any restaurant recommendations, let me know!”
Before she could speak another word, the man’s window was back up and he was coasting down the street. She followed him into their subdivision. Alas, he kept going while she turned off the street and pushed the button on her visor to lift her garage door. She watched as he disappeared into his garage, the door closing behind him.
Ohhh, baby, baby is right…
Several days later…
Winnie McBride had half her face wrapped in a pink and mauve scarf covered in lint balls. Sprigs of blond, curly hair whipped in the wind, at least the ones that weren’t covered by the massive black skull cap. She stood before him armed with a clipboard and her fast moving, viper-like tongue. Chancellor leaned against his door, his living room fire going strong, jazz playing at a low volume, a mess of papers sprawled across the kitchen counter, and a heavy-duty desire to slam the damn door in her face, mid-sentence.
“Chancellor, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity!” the woman continued, by now having wasted exactly seven minutes of his time.
“Winnie, thanks, but I’ll pass.”
The woman looked downright mortified. The tip of her bulbous nose was an odd hue of pink, no doubt from the brutal cold, and she pouted for a solid five seconds, without so much as saying a word.
“It’s not like I haven’t been generous,” he added for good measure, almost feeling sorry for the horrid human.
“But Chancellor, you can win the sweepstakes!”
“I honestly am not concerned about that. I already gave you fifty dollars for the summer camp program, thirty-five for the fruit basket drive—I never got my basket by the way, but that’s neither here nor there—and $125.00 for the wounded soldiers fundraiser you had just a few months ago. Now, I have no issue giving, I believe I’ve proven that, but I also donate on my own, too. I wish you well on this venture, but I really must go. Have a nice day.” He went to close the door but she thrust her purple gloved hand out, preventing him from retreating.
“I really depend on your donations, Chancellor.”
He stared at the woman, shocked at her gall. He’d spoken to her in a professional manner, and it had taken all of his willpower to do so.
Yet, here she remained, pushing her luck. But her luck had just run out.
“Winnie, please remove your—”
“You see.” She blinked back faux tears as she rocked back and forth on yellow rubber boots, then turned away as if needing a moment to collect herself. He rolled his eyes before she had a chance to face him again. When she did, her thin lower lip was quivering like an electrocuted earthworm. All he could do was grimace and cross his legs, dreaming of the moment when she’d turn her back and walk away. “My church is, oh, I shouldn’t say this, but, my church is planning a surprise party for me due to all of my campaigns, and I would really love to present them with the biggest donation of all. I don’t do it for the recognition.” She tossed him an anguished hound dog expression. “I do it for the people who need it most.”
“Winnie, I understand. Do you know what I need most?”
“What?” She smiled.
“Some peace and quiet and for you to leave my damn doorstep. Good night.”
He promptly closed and locked the door, then hiked back into his kitchen. He could’ve sworn he heard the woman scream “Asshole!” But perhaps it was just the wind. It made him no difference either way, and the incident was soon out of his mind.
He sat down to work again, the television on with the sound on low. Soon, a car ad came on and the woman speaking sounded much like the new neighbor, Bailey.
“This 0% down won’t last forever!” the voice stated.
He smiled as he stood there just staring at the tube, taking it all in.
What a beautiful woman Bailey is…
In all honesty, he’d thought about her quite a bit since he’d first seen her at the seasonal homeowner’s association meeting. He wondered about her, would at times look out the window and see several of her lights on, then try to imagine what she was doing. Tearing himself away from his thoughts, he left those notions behind and busied himself with his tasks, then yawned and realized that he’d not even started his laundry, which had begun to pile up, or even had a bite to eat.
Maybe I’ll get some Chinese delivery. Nah, just keep it simple.
Removing a frozen meal from the freezer, he popped it in the microwave, then climbed the stairs to go sort the whites from the darks. He poured the liquid detergent into the washer container, selected his preferred settings, and paused, staring at the dryer just sitting there, empty.
Oh yeah… Bailey needed a new dryer hose.
He walked out of the laundry room and headed downstairs, promptly grabbing the business card from his contact over at the Winburn Co. where one of his good friends worked. Without missing a beat, he headed to his entry closet, threw on his coat, and made his way across the street, the white little card in hand. The wicked wind blew his hair to and fro, and his skin took a beating from the frigid air.
Damn, the wind has really taken it up a notch!
Approaching the house, he trekked up the woman’s sidewalk, careful not to slip.
She needs to put some salt out here…
They were due for another storm soon, according to the latest weather forecast, and he made a mental note to put more salt on his driveway before the end of the night. As he approached the door, a motion detector light shined down upon him as if he were the last act in some snowy circus, and the raucous barks of an overly zealous dog soon followed. He heard Bailey’s muffled voice as she approached the front door.
“Bernie, hush!” The woman took a while, no doubt checking her peephole, too. The door swung open, and there she stood wearing a long gray sweater, black denim skinny jeans, and fuzzy hot pink socks. “Oh hi, Chancellor. Come on in!”
An invitation? She’s asking me inside? Well, shit…This is not what I expected. Just hand her the card and be gone. If I’d known, I would have thrown on some cologne or something more flattering…
Soon, he found himself being jammed in the crotch with the long nozzle of a collie giving some serious violating sniffs to his balls. If it weren’t for the K-9 sexual assault, he could have better appreciated the delicious smell of chicken soup that floated in the air.
“Bernie! Leave him alone.”
The dog begrudgingly removed its nose and waddled away. He’d never been so pleased to see a dog go.
Bailey closed and locked the door and beckoned him to follow her to the kitchen.
“I just fixed myself something to eat, Chancellor. It’s bad out there, isn’t it? I was hoping that this snow, at least the heavy accumulation, was behind us. So much for high hopes, right?” She chortled as she opened her refrigerator door, grabbed a can of ginger ale and popped it open. “Would you like one?”
“Uh, no.” He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Please, have a seat.” She pointed to one of the white leather barstools that surrounded her white and gray granite kitchen island. He half stood, half sat, feeling out of place, uncertain what to do with his limbs.
“I just, uh, decided to bring this over.” He waved the card in her direction and offered a weak smile. “It’s the company that sells the dryer hose.”
“Ahhh, yes!” she exclaimed. She took the card from his hand and read it with a discerning eye. “I did already purchase a new hose though.”
“Oh.” He swallowed. “Well, I’m sorry for such a late follow up. Naturally you would’ve done it by now.” He stood to leave, but Bernie pranced over to him, sat before him and looked up, panting, as if they had an urgent matter to discuss—the inspection of his balls.
Beat it!
“Oh no, don’t worry. Thank you anyway because something could happen.” She shrugged. “Who knows? Oh look.” She grinned like a doting mother before taking a sip of her drink. “Bernie likes you!”
“Mmmm, okay.” Placing a light hand on the top of the dog’s head, he tried to grin but was certain he only looked as if he were in pain and simply trying to bear it without screaming. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so damn awkward. He attempted to play it off as the dog snapped away from his touch and licked his palm instead. The wet saliva sent chills up his spine, one of the many reasons he refused to have any of the damn hairy beasts in his own home. He quickly rubbed the side of his hand, where the crime had been committed, against his pants until his skin was sensitive to the touch.
Slobber … great! Why didn’t I just put the card in her mailbox and leave?
“Are you hungry? Would you like some soup? I have crackers, too.” An episode of Jeopardy played on her television. Chancellor loved Jeopardy. He turned in the direction of the television, then back toward her.
“Oh no, thank you. That was kind of you to offer, though.”
Yes, I want some damn soup! It smells unbelievable! But I don’t want to impose… I wouldn’t mind looking at her a bit longer, though…
He made slow steps towards the front door, hating himself for not taking her up on her offer. “I have a frozen meal I prepared in the microwave. Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes … or at least it’s supposed to be. Who knows? It’s covered in some brown mystery sauce.” He chortled.
Perhaps she’ll ask again, and after a bit of tug of war, I will relent…
“Well that sounds delicious, Chancellor.” She rolled her eyes in jest. “How could you pass that up? Sit down and eat. I insist.”
YES!
“This chicken soup was made from scratch. It’s from an old family recipe.” Pulling out a bright yellow ceramic bowl from an overhead cupboard, she ladled soup into it, then placed it in the microwave to heat up. He sat back on the barstool, this time putting his entire ass on the seat. His balls were gone, though—to the local police precinct to file a report against Bernie. Leaning forward, he folded his hands together and studied the room.
“You’ve done a great job with this place, you know that? I used to stop by on occasion when the other family lived here.”
She tossed him a glance over her shoulder.
“Well, thank you! The price they were asking was unreasonable, but I really wanted the
house. I figured though if I had to pull up all the carpet, repaint and modernize the master bathroom, then they needed to work with me, you know?”
He nodded in agreement.
Good that she didn’t pay full price. Smart.
“I love this place, though. It’s perfect. The backyard is big enough for cookouts once the weather breaks and for Bernie to run around in and play.”
“It’s really nice, yeah… I knew the people well that lived here before you, the Berry family. They were from England. I believe they relocated because Ms. Berry’s mother had gotten ill, so they moved back to Newcastle, England.”
She smiled and leaned back against the counter, ankles crossed. “I’ve always wanted to go to England. I didn’t meet them at the closing. They signed everything electronically and had an attorney present.”
Removing his bowl from the microwave, she set it gingerly before him, arranging a silver spoon and a napkin just so. He looked down at the meal, the uneven slices of orange, chunky carrot, the tender looking slivers of white chicken breast, thinly sliced celery, and a rich broth dotted with black pepper and other savory seasonings. This was a woman who took her time. She let things simmer slowly to perfection.
“Thank you.” He cradled the bowl with his palms, letting the heat seep in. “This really smells and looks delicious.” Picking up his spoon, he plunged it into the broth, then took a taste.
“You’re welcome.” She grabbed a towel and dried her hands, then disappeared into the large kitchen pantry.
“Bailey, this is delicious.” He took another spoonful, and then another. He told himself to slow down, but he wasn’t certain he could comply. The woman returned with a big grin on her face and placed a variety pack of crackers on the counter, next to him.
“Thank you, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
He stared at her plush lips a wee bit too long.
“This is obviously homemade. Whose recipe is this? I’d like to thank her.”
“Actually, it was my father’s.” Her smile remained, but weakened ever so slightly. “He got it from his mother, so on and so forth. He was the cook of our family.” She pulled out a chair across from him and plopped down. He caught a whiff of her perfume—floral and light.
