Edith waved a delicate hand. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“But, Mom,” Faith wailed, the pain of losing a multi-generational business so apparent in her voice. “They can’t.”
The two sisters-in-law exchanged a glance. “They can if a developer is willing to offer them nearly four times what the property appraises for,” Lucinda announced smugly. “Y’all know that business hasn’t been what it was before those hotels went up right off the interstate—”
“That’s true, Aunt Lucy,” Faith said, stopping her aunt, “but they’re still showing a profit.”
“Right now they’re barely breaking even,” Lucinda said. “This year’s functions booked for the months of January, February and March get special low-rate advantage packages, but that still didn’t spur business our way.”
“Why didn’t you say something before now?” Simone asked.
“Because you have your own businesses to worry about,” her mother retorted. “Whitfield Caterers sits on prime property, and Malcolm and Henry would be fools not to sell.”
“If they sell it, then what would they do?” Tessa asked. “Daddy and Uncle Henry are too young to retire.” Her identical-twin father and uncle had celebrated their fifty-eighth birthdays in April.
“They’ve decided to open an upscale bilevel bowling alley with a game room for kids and a jazz club for adults.”
“Hot da-amn!” drawled Simone with more enthusiasm anyone had seen her exhibit in a very long time.
Tessa smiled. “I like the idea.”
“So do I,” Faith concurred. “When is all of this going down?”
“Hopefully by the beginning of the year,” Edith said. “And I don’t see a reason why the zoning board won’t approve it, especially since they’re trying to revitalize the downtown business district.”
Tessa felt the enthusiasm of her mother and her aunt as they talked excitedly about the architect’s proposal for the abandoned building that would be converted to a modern, state-of-the art bowling alley. She washed her hands and helped carry platters and serving bowls into the dining room as her father and uncle walked in grinning from ear to ear. It was apparent their team had won.
“Hello, Daddy. How are you, Uncle Henry?”
Tessa endured the bear hugs and kisses until she begged the bookend brothers to let her go. Her father and her uncle had grown up switching identities at will, fooling everyone. The only exception was their mother. They stood an inch under the six-foot mark, and the year they turned fifty both men had affected trim mustaches and goatees. The facial hair added character to their khaki-brown faces, and with their close-cropped curly graying hair and hazel eyes they still garnered stares from the opposite sex, much to the consternation of their wives.
Releasing and winking at his younger daughter, Malcolm walked out of the dining room to see if his wife needed his help.
“I heard about your new venture,” Tessa said to her uncle.
“What do you think, Tessa?” asked Henry.
“I think it’s wonderful. But what’s going to happen to the clients who’ve booked with you through next year?”
Henry ran a hand over his graying hair. “We’re going to honor their contracts. Mal and I decided not to book anyone beyond next August.”
Resting her arms on the back of one of a dozen dining room chairs, Tessa listened as Henry told her that he and his brother had gotten a loan from their bank to cover the start-up cost of renovating an abandoned factory building, and as soon as the sale of the catering hall was finalized they would repay the bank at a very low interest rate. What surprised her most was that her brother Vernon planned to resign his teaching position at a Winston-Salem, North Carolina, high school at the end of the school year and return to New York to go into business with his father and his uncle.
Vernon Whitfield married a fellow college student, and they’d made North Carolina their home when both were offered teaching positions in neighboring cities. Vernon, Yolie and their young sons came to New York for the summer break and every other year during the Christmas recess. Tessa smiled. Now she knew why Lucinda was so in favor of the new business. There was no doubt she would agree to anything if it meant having her only son close by.
* * *
Tessa followed her mother into her sewing room, her breath stopping and catching in her throat when Lucinda flicked the wall switch. The bright glow from recessed lights shimmered on a quartet of Asian-inspired wedding gowns draped over dress forms. All were made in silvery fabrics that glowed like polished platinum. A kimono-style bronze-hued sash provided a chic clinching at the waist and bodice of a silk-satin strapless gown. Another had an obi-inspired bow in smoky gray that lent a sophisticated effect on a satin A-line dress with narrow straps tucked into the bow. The third backless gown with the folded artistry of a large satin bow attached on the left at the waist made a major Asian statement. The last but definitely not the least was a folded detachable train that gave the A-line satin dress a Japanese feel.
Tessa shifted her gaze from the gowns to her mother and then back again. “You’ve outdone yourself, Mama. They are exquisite. What made you go with an Asian look?”
Lucinda affected a mysterious smile. “When I saw Memoirs of a Geisha, my mind started working overtime. Once I began sketching the gowns I knew I didn’t want any jewels or beadwork, just simplicity and sleek elegance.”
Running her fingertips over the large fanlike bow, Tessa nodded her approval. “How long did it take you to finish them?”
Lucinda slipped on a pair of reading glasses and peered closely at the folds in the kimono-style sash. “It took me about six weeks for each one.”
“How much do you want for them?” Tessa asked.
“Which one do you want?”
“I want all of them, Mama.”
“When do want them, Theresa?”
Tessa was hard-pressed not to glare at her mother. Lucinda Whitfield was like a dog with a bone. Once she designed a dress she held on to it just to admire her exquisite handiwork. “If you can bear to part with them before the end of the year, then I’ll include them in my spring lineup.”
She spent ten minutes negotiating prices that were commensurate with the time, labor and materials that it took for Lucinda to design and sew her much-sought-after creations. “I’ll send you a check tomorrow,” Tessa promised.
Unlike Whitfield Caterers, which was experiencing a decline in business, Signature Bridals was booked solid for the coming year’s spring and summer months. Tessa was booked for as many Friday weddings as she did Saturdays and Sundays. In early April she was scheduled to go to Daufuskie Island, South Carolina, to oversee the wedding of the daughter of a preeminent Palm Beach plastic surgeon.
She glanced at her watch. It was after eight. “I’m going to leave now, otherwise I’ll be stuck in traffic.”
Lucinda removed her glasses and placed them on a table with bolts of off-white satin. “Why don’t you stay over and leave after the morning rush hour.”
“I’d love to, Mama, but I’m expecting a delivery of wedding stationery tomorrow morning. Why don’t you come into the city and spend a few days with me?”
A knowing smile softened Lucinda’s mouth. “I’ll come only if we can eat in that wonderful Caribbean restaurant in Manhattan.”
Looping an arm around her mother’s neck, Tessa kissed her. “You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Whitfield.” It wasn’t often Lucinda left what she considered the sane environs of Westchester County for New York City’s nonstop pulsing energy.
“How else am I going to see my baby girl?”
“Either get on the railroad or drive to Brooklyn.”
“When have you known me to ride the railroad?”
“You’re spoiled, Mama.”
“No, I’m not,” Lucinda countered. “I just don’t take public transportation.”
Tessa wasn’t about to argue with her mother because she would just come out on the losing end. And it wasn’t the firs
t time she believed Lucinda had gone into the wrong profession. She should’ve been an attorney, because her debating skills were legendary.
Leaving Lucinda in the sewing room, she returned to the kitchen to ask Faith if she was ready to go back to Manhattan.
* * *
Tessa gave her cousin a quick glance before returning her gaze to the roadway. “Why all the secrecy about your book deal?”
Faith pressed the back of her head against the leather headrest and closed her eyes. “I didn’t want to say anything until I get the go-ahead from my agent to sign the contract. And knowing my mother, she’d have the news blasted all over Mount Vernon before the contract is executed.”
“Ah, sookie, sookie,” Tessa drawled. “My cousin’s going to become a celebrity chef like Paula Deen and Bobby Flay.”
A rush of heat stung Faith’s dark brown cheeks. “Not quite, Tessa. Don’t forget I still have to kitchen-test the recipes, bake and then decorate the cakes. The publisher wants me to use one of their contract photographers, but I’m not too crazy about his work.”
“Will they permit you to use your own photographer?”
“That’s something my agent is negotiating. Do you have someone in mind? Because I need someone with an exquisite eye for detail.”
“Remember the photos from the Gilbert-Angelo wedding?” The A-list Hollywood couple had arranged a private wedding ceremony on a sparsely populated Caribbean island, but a resourceful ex-still photographer posing as a waiter had managed to snap photos of the couple who’d managed to keep their liaison under wraps.
Faith nodded. “Who could forget them? Is it true the photographer sold the photos to the tabloids for half a million?”
“Try one million,” Tessa corrected.
“Who’s your contact?”
“Paul Demetrios.”
“Didn’t he also photograph the Fyles-Cooper wedding?”
“Yes!”
Faith’s dark eyes sparkled like polished onyx. “If you can get Paul Demetrios to photograph my book, I’ll owe you forever.”
Tessa laughed softly. “If you can convince your publisher to use him, then all I want is an autographed copy.”
Faith sobered as she gave her cousin a lingering stare. In just a few short years Signature Bridals had become one of the most sought-after wedding consultants in the northeast. Tessa ran her one-woman operation with the ease and skill of a company with dozens of employees. Since the Fyles-Cooper wedding, requests for her services had doubled, most coming from A-list actors and fiancées of athletes and musicians.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Tessa’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but her expression did not change. “Why would you ask me that, Faith?”
“Well, I…I find it hard to believe that you come into contact with so many eligible men yet you’re still single.”
“The same can be said for you,” Tessa retorted.
“At least I date. Or I did date,” Faith said, correcting herself. “I’m serious when I say that I’ve sworn off men. I’ve kissed so many frogs in my life that it’s amazing I don’t have warts.”
A soft laugh filled the closed space as Tessa slowed down to avoid rear-ending the car in front of her that’d stopped suddenly. Her smile faded when she thought of Micah. “I think I found a prince.”
Shifting on her seat, Faith stared at Tessa. “Who is he?”
Tessa was forthcoming when she admitted to Faith that she’d broken her vow not to become involved with a client’s family member. “His name is Micah and he’s Bridget Sanborn’s brother.”
“Good for you. I always thought that was an asinine vow,” Faith drawled. “You’ve put up so many roadblocks and have so many dos and don’ts that it’s no wonder you’re not married.”
“I’m really not looking to get married,” Tessa said truthfully. “What I want and need is a relationship that’s open, honest and uncomplicated.”
“It’ll remain uncomplicated until you and your Micah start sleeping together. I just hope you’re luckier than me, because the minute I sleep with a man, that’s when he turns into a jealous, possessive monster,” Faith admitted wistfully.
“We’re already sleeping together.”
Faith’s beautifully arched eyebrows lifted. “How long have you known him, Tessa?”
“Not long.”
“How long is not long?”
“Just over a week.”
Faith couldn’t halt a soft gasp of surprise that escaped her parted lips. “What happened to your three-month waiting period?”
Tessa gave her cousin a quick glance, smiling. “I don’t know. At first I thought it was because after so many years of not sleeping with anyone I’d finally come into heat. But then I realized my attraction to Micah wasn’t solely physical but also intellectual. He’s the first man with whom I’m able to have an intelligent conversation without having to defend or justify my opinions.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a lawyer.”
“What type of law does he practice?”
“Criminal. He works out of the Brooklyn D.A.’s office.”
“Do you see him as a potential husband?”
Tessa shook her head. “No.” She told Faith about the conversation she’d had with Micah about his views toward marriage. “I respect him because at least I know exactly what type of relationship I’ll have with him.”
“It doesn’t bother you that he’s not willing to commit to a future together?”
She shook her head again. “Not in the least. I still have time before I think about getting married and having children. Don’t tell me you’re getting the wedding-bell blues?”
“No, but my mother has been on my case because she wants grandchildren. When I told her I could have a baby without getting married, she went into a rant that she didn’t raise her only child to become a baby mama.”
Tessa blew out her breath. Her aunt was known for her histrionics when she didn’t get her way. “What did you tell her?”
Faith affected a smug grin. “I told her that if she continued to nag me, I was going to sleep with Lying Leon.” Leon Jamison had earned a reputation as the neighborhood wino.
“No, you didn’t tell her that.”
“Yes, I did. Of course, she wouldn’t talk to me for several weeks, but at least I didn’t have to hear her beat her gums about grandbabies.”
Faith talked incessantly about her book as bridge traffic slowed to a crawl before Tessa was able to maneuver into an E-ZPass lane. Her excitement was evident in her voice when she talked about decorating cakes for children with animal shapes and theme cakes using shoes, ties, hats, tools, books, fruits and bows as accessories.
“Do you want to come up?” she asked Tessa three-quarters of an hour later when she miraculously found a parking space in front of her building.
“Not tonight, Faith. Perhaps we can get together one night this week.”
“This week isn’t too good for me. I have several parties in the tristate area and then I’m going to D.C. for a senator’s daughter’s sweet sixteen celebration over the weekend.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I should return Sunday morning.”
“Remember, we meet at my house next Monday,” Tessa reminded her.
Leaning over, Faith kissed Tessa’s cheek. “Do you want me to bring dessert?”
“But of course.”
“What do you want?”
“Surprise me,” Tessa drawled.
Smiling, Faith pushed open the door. “You may come to regret those words.”
Tessa waited until Faith disappeared into her apartment building before she maneuvered away from the curb and headed for Brooklyn.
An hour after leaving Mount Vernon she walked into her brownstone. She sorted through the mail that had been delivered on Saturday. There was nothing that required her immediate attention. Leaving the envelopes on the table in the foyer, she made her way up the
staircase to her bedroom to prepare for bed.
* * *
Tessa turned out the bedside lamp and slid down to the pillows cradling her back. The weekend had been filled with surprises: sleeping with Micah, the news that her father and her uncle were shutting down their catering hall business to open a bowling alley and her cousin writing a coffee-table book about cakes.
A shiver of excitement and awareness eddied through her when she recalled the aftermath of her body’s reaction to Micah’s lovemaking. Sitting up, she turned on the lamp and reached for her cell phone. Scrolling through the directory, she punched a button and listened for a break in the connection.
“Hello.”
She froze for several seconds when hearing the deep, resonant voice. “Unlike you, I make promises—and I’ve kept my promise and called.”
“If you didn’t call me, then I was going to call you.”
“Are you free any night this week?”
“Why?”
“I’d like to take you out to dinner.”
Micah’s sensual laugh came through the earpiece. “Are you asking me out on a date, Tessa Whitfield?”
A bright smile curved her mouth. “Yes, I am.”
“I just happen to be available Tuesday—that is, if that’s a good day for you.”
“It is,” she said.
“What time should I come by?”
“Can you get here by seven?”
“That’s not a problem.”
“Then I’ll see you Tuesday. Good night, Micah.”
“Don’t hang up yet.”
“Why?”
“I have something to tell you.”
Tessa held her breath before letting it out slowly. There was something in Micah’s voice that gave it an ominous tone. “What is it?”
Long Time Coming Page 14
