Long Time Coming

by Rochelle Alers

  “No, and I’ve never come close.”

  “Do you like women?”

  Her query must have startled him, because he went completely still. The frown lines that appeared between his eyes were replaced with a knowing smile. Resting a thigh against the pedestal sink, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You think because we slept together and I didn’t touch you that I’m not into women?”

  Tessa blushed, the color temporarily concealing the spray of freckles across her velvety cheeks. “This is not about me.”

  His smile widened. “Isn’t it, Tessa?”

  “No. It’s about you, Micah.”

  “What about me?”

  “I’ve come into contact with together sisters every time I coordinate a wedding. Bridesmaids and maids of honor looking for a together brother like you. But when they do marry, it is to settle because they don’t want to be alone and they don’t want to become just a baby mama.”

  Micah angled his head. “By settle you mean they marry brothers who don’t come correct?”

  “Yes. The men they marry don’t measure up, will never measure and have no intention of ever measuring up. Instead of becoming a partner, she’s thrust into the role of working overtime emotionally to make her marriage a success.”

  Micah had lost track of the number of times he’d overheard black women complain about not being able to find a “good black man.” He’d worked and gone to school with good black men. His brothers were good black men, loving husbands and protective fathers.

  “Thank you for the backhanded compliment, Tessa. But, unlike Will and Bram, I’m not the marrying kind.”

  “You don’t believe in marriage?”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe in marriage. In fact, I believe it’s a very important societal institution necessary for creating and preserving families. However, marriage is just not for me.”

  Tessa’s mouth curved into an unconscious smile. “I admire your honesty. Most men would be reluctant to admit that. But I’m glad you’re not in the majority or I’d be out of business.”

  “Sorry about interrupting, Uncle Micah, but Grandma is waiting for you before we say grace.”

  Micah turned to find Marisol lounging in the doorway. “Tell her we’re coming.”

  Tessa walked out of the bathroom with Micah. His statement, Marriage is just not for me, lingered with her during the brunch she shared with the Sanborns, and nagged at her when she sat down with Rosalind to discuss what they needed for Bridget’s upcoming wedding.

  * * *

  Tessa sat at a lace-covered table in Rosalind Sanborn’s sun parlor. The room was an exquisite retreat. The near-white furnishings and accessories and bright autumn sunlight filtering through white-on-white awning-striped voile drapes at the many-mullioned windows brought the outdoors inside.

  She handed Rosalind a bridal information guide. “It looks more daunting than it actually is. You can read it at your leisure. However, I’m going to give you a brief overview so you’ll know what I’ll need to start the process of planning Bridget’s wedding. Please stop me anytime you need to ask me something.”

  Rosalind gave Tessa a direct stare. “Even before you begin, I’d like to know whether it’s humanly possible to plan a formal wedding in ten weeks.”

  Tessa saw doubt and fear in the blue eyes peering at her over a pair of half-glasses. She smiled. “Signature Bridals has been known to perform minor miracles given less time than what Bridget is giving us.”

  Rosalind, pressing her palms together, exhaled audibly and whispered a silent prayer. “Edgar doesn’t like to hear it, but Bram’s right when he says that Bridget’s spoiled. Unfortunately, I’ve spoiled all of my children,” she said in a voice that seemed to come a long way off.

  “Isn’t that what parents are suppose to do?”

  Rosalind observed Tessa through lowered lids. “Are you speaking from experience, Tessa?”

  “No, I’m not. I don’t have any children.”

  There was a pregnant silence as the two women regarded each other. Tessa cleared her throat. She knew she had to steer the focus back to Bridget’s wedding.

  “I’d like to cover the different elements that make up a wedding. I’ll begin with the breakdown of roles and responsibilities of the members of the wedding party, the ceremony, the reception and, last but certainly not least, is money and who pays for what. I believe it’s better when the bride and groom stick to tradition, given the time frame, but if they want to break the rules, then it can’t be something catastrophic.”

  Rosalind’s expression brightened. “We don’t have to discuss money because Edgar and I will pay for the invitations, Bridget’s dress and accessories, flowers, music, the reception, including food and drink, the cake, photographer, accommodations for out-of-town guests and, of course, your fee.”

  “Have you compiled a mailing list for your guests?”

  “Yes. I’ll get it for you.”

  “Please don’t get up,” Tessa said when Rosalind pushed back her chair. “You can give it to me before I leave.”

  The two women spent over an hour going over the wording for the wedding stationery—the invitations, the place and reply cards. “Keep in mind,” Tessa suggested, “that with formal invitations guests’ names are handwritten in the top left corner or in the space provided within the wording of the invitation, and full titles are used. It’s going to be time-consuming, so Bridget will have to decide whether she wants to use them.”

  Rosalind jotted notes on a legal pad. “What’s the latest we can send out invitations?”

  “They should be sent out two or three months before the day, and certainly no later than six weeks before. I recommend including the preprinted reply cards and addressed envelopes with the invitations because they encourage guests to reply promptly. And the fact that Bridget and Seth are marrying New Year’s Eve may be to their advantage, because those who haven’t made plans for the holiday will have the perfect excuse to celebrate it at a black-tie affair.”

  “So the invitations have to go out before the end of the month,” Rosalind mumbled under her breath.

  “Realistically they should,” Tessa confirmed. “You’ll be given the choice between engraving, letterpress, offset lithography and thermography. Paper can be made of many different materials and come in all sorts of textures, finishes and weight. It’s the same with shapes. If Bridget and Seth want an unusual-shaped invitation, then they must keep in mind that it will call for custom-made envelopes. I always tell my clients that wedding stationery should be printed at the same time. Would you like a printed menu?”

  “Yes. That’s something you can take with you along with the guest list. I—” A soft tapping on the door preempted her words. Turning, she glanced over her shoulder at Edgar. “Yes, dear?”

  He walked into the room. He’d changed into a pair of sweatpants, a shirt and running shoes. The faded logo of Princeton University was barely legible. “Are you almost finished?”

  Rosalind looked at Tessa, who nodded. “Give us a few more minutes.”

  Edgar nodded, smiling. “Tessa, I hope you’re going to join us.”

  “Join you for what?”

  “Micah didn’t tell you?”

  Tessa shifted her gaze from Edgar to Rosalind, her expression mirroring confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Rosalind rested a hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “On Sundays the family gets together after brunch to play touch football.”

  Tessa’s jaw dropped as she opened her mouth but no words came out. She couldn’t believe Micah had asked her to dress casually just so that someone could tackle her. If he’d mentioned football, then she would’ve told him that she didn’t do grass and dirt.

  “I—I’m afraid I’m not dressed to play football,” she stammered.

  Rosalind waved her hand. “Don’t worry about ruining your lovely twinset. You’re about the same size as Bridget. I’ll find something in her closet that’
s certain to fit you.”

  Seething and cursing Micah inwardly, Tessa forced a smile when she felt like grimacing. She’d come to New Jersey to coordinate a wedding, not play football.

  CHAPTER 6

  Tessa, wearing sweatpants and a Smith College sweatshirt and running shoes belonging to Bridget, studied the framed photograph of the woman whose clothes she wore. Rosalind had given her a new bra-and-bikini-panty ensemble to change into after the football game. The older woman appeared embarrassed when she disclosed her daughter’s obsession with frilly, delicate undergarments. The six-drawer lingerie chest was filled with bras, panties and camisoles in every fabric and color, many with the sales tags still attached.

  Tessa discovered she and Bridget were almost the same size. She had an inch or two on her client in the hips, but Bridget was a cup larger in bra size.

  She smiled. Now Tessa had a face to go along with the name. Smiling and staring directly at the photographer, dark-haired, green-eyed Bridget Sanborn radiated a youthful exuberance that enhanced her delicate beauty.

  There was something else she’d discovered when Rosalind had directed her to her daughter’s bedroom suite: Bridget was feminine and romantic. Tessa felt as if she were on the set of a Merchant Ivory film. The furnishings and decor were unabashedly Victorian. A nest of gossamer pillows piled doubly high on a lace-trimmed counterpane graced a mahogany bed with a carved headboard and posts. Embroidered sheers at the windows filtered the afternoon light into a space with stark white walls. A collection of pale straw hats hung from pegs along one wall.

  Photographs of Bridget, chronicling her life from infant to womanhood, along with photos of her brothers, parents, sisters-in-law, nephews and nieces, crowded the fireplace mantel. She stared at one of a younger Micah in his regulation NYPD uniform; her gaze shifted to an updated photograph of him with Edgar and Rosalind in front of Brooklyn Law School. There was no mistaking Rosalind’s pride when she smiled up at her son resplendent in a gown, hood and velvet tam.

  Cognizant that the Sanborns were waiting for her, she left the bedroom and made her way down the long hallway to the staircase. She’d just placed her foot on the first stair when she saw Micah standing at the bottom, waiting for her. A sweatshirt had replaced his sweater, and as she came closer she saw Columbia University stamped across the front.

  She stopped on a stair that brought her head level with his. Eyes narrowing, she glared at him. “I owe you one for tricking me,” she threatened softly.

  He stared, unblinking. “What are you talking about?”

  “You didn’t tell me that I’d become a participant in a football game.”

  He flashed a smile, his eyelids lowering slightly, and she held her breath for several seconds. The expression was sensual enough to be X-rated.

  “Touch football, Tessa.”

  “Touch, flag or regulation football,” she drawled. “It’s still involves tackling, rolling around on the ground and possible injuries. I can’t afford to break something.”

  Whenever the members of her family got together for anything physical, Tessa was always the one who sat on the sidelines. She harbored a fear that she would break a bone and she hated to sweat. She was the complete opposite of Simone, who loved rolling around on the grass, digging for worms and climbing trees.

  Reaching for her hand, Micah assisted her off the staircase and toward the rear of the house; he slowed his pace to accommodate her shorter legs. “We’ve been playing football for more than ten years, and so far no one has ever been injured or broken anything. There’s an unspoken rule that the guys have to be gentle with the ladies.”

  “So if it’s separate but unequal, then where’s the competition?”

  “It’s a competition between partners. You, my dad, Will and Ruby will be on one team, and I’ll be with Lindy, Bram and my mother. Now if Bridget and Seth were here, they’d be on opposing teams.”

  Tessa gave Micah a sidelong glance. “I’m not your girlfriend or your partner.”

  “Not in the literal sense, but today we’ll make an exception.” He gave her a quick glance. “Is that okay with you?”

  She nodded. “Okay, only for today. What do you do after the game?”

  “The kids usually relax with a movie while the adults cook, but there’re times when we all go out for Sunday dinner.”

  “So Sunday is family day for the Sanborns.”

  “It is whenever all of us show up. Sundays in the summer are always iffy because when the kids are out of school Will and Bram hang out together on Cape May. They have condos in the same vacation community. Seth’s folks own property in the Berkshires, so we didn’t get to see too much of Bridget this past summer.”

  “How long have Bridget and Seth been dating?” Tessa asked.

  “Not long. They met at a party hosted by a mutual friend over the Memorial Day weekend, and since that time they’ve been inseparable.”

  “It’s a whirlwind romance that will culminate in a fairy-tale wedding.”

  Micah nodded. “Bridget shocked all of us when she got engaged, because even though she’s dated off and on over the years, she’s never been serious about any one guy. She claims when she saw Seth it was love at first sight. I find that more shocking than her getting engaged.”

  “You sound like a cynic, Micah.”

  He laughed under his breath. “Of course you would think that. After all, you’re in the happily-ever-after business.”

  “One of these days love is going to jump up and bite you so hard you won’t have time to react,” she predicted.

  “And if you decide you want Signature Bridals to coordinate your wedding, then I’ll offer you a family discount because of Bridget.”

  “Never happen,” he drawled confidently.

  “Never say never, Micah,” Tessa teased. Raising her head, she inhaled deeply as they passed the kitchen. “I smell turkey.”

  Smiling, Micah gave her a sidelong glance. “You’ve got a good nose. Dad decided on turkey today instead of his usual standing rib roast.”

  “Your father is a fabulous cook.” Edgar Sanborn had prepared a brunch with pancakes, omelets, bacon, sausage, eggs cooked to order and home fries.

  “He couldn’t boil water before he married my mother and now he cooks better than she does.”

  “Do you cook?”

  “I do okay.”

  Micah opened a side door and they stepped out into bright sunlight. The sun was hot, but the heat was tempered by a cool breeze. The afternoon weather was perfect for a football game.

  Tessa looked around, but she didn’t see anyone. “Where is everybody?”

  Micah pointed to his right. “They’re over that rise. Perhaps you want to stretch before we get there.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Stretch, Micah? Are you saying I might pull a muscle?” A swollen silence followed her query. “If I hurt myself, I’m going to sue the hell out of you.”

  Throwing back his head, Micah laughed, the sound warm, deep and rich. “That’s not going to be so easy.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll have to decide whether to represent myself or retain my parents as legal counsel.”

  “Your parents are attorneys?”

  “Dad is a law professor at Princeton Law School, and my mother is a retired family court judge.”

  Tessa wanted to ask Micah if his brothers were also lawyers, but her query died on her lips when she saw the Sanborns in an open grassy meadow, all wearing college sweatshirts, stretching and warming up, while the younger members of the family had become cheerleaders, waving white T-shirts and towels and dancing to the music coming from a boom box sitting under a tree. It’d become an impromptu pep rally.

  She felt her features become more animated. Just as the bimonthly Monday dinners with her sister and cousin reinforced their bond as members of the same family, the Sanborn Sunday brunch and subsequent football game served the same purpose. It probably would be another decade before the role of the younger children w
ould go from spectator to participator, and they no doubt would exhibit the same enthusiasm and competitiveness as their parents and grandparents.

  Bending from the waist, Tessa shook her arms and hands, then went through a ritual that stretched her biceps, triceps and quadriceps. She felt a rush of adrenaline as she raised her arms and kicked up her legs in time to the cheerleading music.

  Will pumped his fist in the air. “Hot damn, Dad, we got a live one on our team!”

  Maybe if I tire myself out during the warm-up, then I can plead exhaustion and can sit out the game, Tessa mused. She wasn’t about to let Micah or Abram—especially Abram—tackle her. The man was built like a Hummer.

  Edgar motioned for Marisol to lower the volume on the boom box as he got all of the players together in a huddle to go over the rules and restrictions: no gauging or clothesline moves. He identified the trees that were goal lines for each team, then tossed a coin. Abram, who’d chosen to play the quarterback position, called tails, winning the coin toss.

  The first two plays occurred so quickly that Tessa felt as if she’d had her eyes closed. Micah had caught the ball and run halfway up the imaginary field before he was tackled by Will.

  Isaac and Jacob did the happy dance, chanting, “Go, Daddy! Go, Daddy!” Marisol screamed at the top of her lungs, executed a back flip and followed it with a full split.

  Tessa huddled with Edgar, Will and Ruby as they planned their next strategic play. Edgar’s dark eyes were serious. “Tessa, you’re going to become our secret weapon. When Bram releases the ball, I want you to run downfield and cover Micah.”

  “Are you sure he’s going to throw it to Micah?” she asked Edgar. “What if he elects to run the ball?”

  Ruby shook her head. “I doubt if he’s going to run,” she said. “Bram’s strong and fast, but he’s not as fast as Micah.”

  “Who’s going to cover me?” Tessa asked.

  “I’ll cover you,” said Will.

  Edgar clapped his hands. “Let’s do it!”

  Tessa took her position, her gaze meeting and fusing with Micah’s. There was no mistaking the challenge in the eyes that communicated that whenever he played it was to win. Well, she thought, whenever she played it wasn’t to come in second but in first place.