"Not every day," he said with a shrug and a straight face. "But sometimes coloring can be the best thing for a man. Relieves stress and all that."
"I think I'll let that one pass. I do have to say again that you're good with kids. Very good."
Nate chuckled. "Thank you. You know, I'm glad you're no longer upset with me. I could have kicked myself for what I said before we left the Center. I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean anything by it. So this is my apology, though it seems I'm giving it after I've been forgiven."
"Not a problem," she said. "It's possible that I may have overreacted. I have it on good authority that I have a tendency to do that."
"Hmm, I haven't noticed."
She quirked a brow at his barely contained grin. "You'd better stop while you're ahead."
He chuckled again before looking down and commenting on David's progress. When he looked back up at her, he said, "So, CeCe Williams, do you think we're going to make it through your hundred and fifty hours of community service?"
"A hundred and twenty-two hours now, but who's counting?" He chuckled, and she continued, "To answer your question, I do think we're going to make it. I'm glad Marvin and Shay had a friend like you to keep their dream going when they couldn't."
Nate didn't have a response, but he appreciated her words. "Well, it's not the lawyering I was trained to do, but I don't see myself doing anything else."
"You were an attorney?" she asked, her eyes bright with interest.
He finished off the last of his salad and pushed his plate aside. "Sure was. I had a law practice in Chicago, and I joined a firm when I moved here. Working for the firm wasn't the same as being on my own, so coming to Genesis House was good for me. I don't own it, but it feels more mine than the law practice ever did. I have Marvin and Shay to thank for that." As he finished speaking, Nate felt a bit exposed. He knew he owed much to Marvin and Shay for making a place for him at Genesis House, but saying it aloud to CeCe made him realize that his greatest joy had come out of their greatest misery. He could no more repay them than he could take away their loss. He watched as CeCe absorbed his words and waited anxiously for her response.
He held his breath as she pushed her plate away and leaned forward, her arms folded on the table in front of her. "You know, at one time I thought I was going to be a lawyer. I had plans to go to law school and everything."
Relief mixed with gratitude at her change of topic, and he encouraged her effort by asking, "So what happened?"
She glanced at her son, the depth of love there obvious for all to see. "That bundle of joy. I guess I still could have gone, but I couldn't imagine putting in the time that would have been required and still being able to give David the time he needed. Besides, I don't think my heart was in it anymore by then. Or maybe it's a dream deferred."
The wistfulness in her voice struck a chord in Nate's heart. "Do you think you'll go back and get your law degree?"
She shook her head. "No. I can't imagine it now. My goals are a little closer to the ground these days."
"Like what?"
She leaned back against the booth and placed her hands in her lap. "Well, the first thing I need to do is get rid of the mountain of debt I've accumulated over the years." Her eyes clouded briefly as if she'd had a sad thought. "That's why I'm doing the real estate in addition to my regular job. I need the money."
"How's it coming?" he asked, taking one of the last two slices of pizza.
"Slowly," she said. "If I'm going to make the kind of money I need in real estate, I'm going to have to find a different clientele or start working longer hours. I don't see myself doing longer hours because of David, so that leaves finding a different clientele as my only option. Right now, most of my clients are people trying to buy a first home on a tight budget. I almost feel guilty taking the commission."
Nate was touched by her compassion. As if she were aware and made uncomfortable as a result, she glanced at David and then back at Nate. "Don't look so impressed," she said. "I said I almost feel guilty."
Nate didn't follow up on her comment, for he knew that doing so would only embarrass her more, but he was pleased that she had such a soft heart. "So what you need are people with money selling houses that cost a lot of money."
"That would be nice, but it's a lot easier said than done. I don't move in those kinds of circles, and I don't have the time to cultivate the necessary relationships to gain entrance."
Nate sat back on the bench seat he occupied with David. "I can see that you don't know the person with whom you've just shared a pizza."
Her eyes widened. "Are you telling me that you have an expensive house that you want to sell?"
"Better than that," he said. "I have access to people who buy and sell expensive houses. For that matter, so do you."
"How's that?"
Nate rubbed his left index finger back and forth over his right one. "Shame, shame, shame. Fortunately for you, a lot of people who own expensive houses are also generous in their charitable giving. As the director of Genesis House, I get to beg in the best circles in Atlanta. Since you're on staff, you have access to those same circles."
The waitress interrupted them when she refilled their glasses. CeCe dumped a couple of packets of sugar in her tea and stirred it. "Well, now I am impressed. I didn't realize I was in such auspicious company. Neither did I realize that my community service job was going to give me a boost in my real estate business." She grinned, lifting her glass to her lips. "Do you think I should call Judge Rogers and thank him?"
Nate couldn't believe the door had opened again for him to ask her out, but it had. OK, Lord, here goes nothing. "You can do better than that. Why call him when you can tell him in person?"
CeCe pursed her lips as if she'd just taken a swallow of pure lemon juice. "I'll pass on that suggestion. I don't think I ever want to see the inside of traffic court again."
"Actually, I was thinking of another place."
Her eyes found his. "What exactly are you getting at, Nate? You may as well spell it out. It should be pretty clear to you by now that I'm not going to figure this out without your help."
"Well," Nate said, leaning toward her with a grin on his face. "Stuart gave me two tickets to the Black Tie Gala. I mentioned it to you the other week." He thought but didn't say, And you shot me down. "He's going to be there, of course, along with quite a few of the inner-circle group. It would be a great networking opportunity for you. And Stuart would be grateful."
"Grateful? Why?" she asked.
Nate suspected she was stalling for time. Probably trying to determine what it would mean if she went to the Gala with him. "Because he's sick of me attending these events by myself," he answered. "That's why he gave me two tickets. He even offered to fix me up, a blind date, but I was able to talk him out of that idea."
CeCe folded and refolded the clean napkin next to her plate. "I bet you get it worse than I do. The matchmaking attempts, I mean."
He shrugged off her concern. "They mean well, so I try not to let it bother me that much. But Stuart is a hard case. He says that if I bring somebody to this Gala he'll stop worrying about me. So what do you say? You could get Stuart off my back, make a few contacts, and maybe even have a little fun."
"I appreciate it, Nate," she began slowly. "I really do, but—"
"No buts," he said, placing one of his hands on top of hers to stop her from folding the napkin. He looked into her eyes, easily reading the uncertainty there. "And no pressure. Just two co-workers who are also working on a friendship. Nothing more." Yet. Though he'd only said the word to himself, it hung in the air between them as though he'd spoken it aloud. "So what do you say?"
* * *
CeCe drove home amazed that she'd agreed to attend the Gala with Nate, while David chattered on and on about Mr. Nate this and Mr. Nate that. She had a feeling that she'd be hearing Nate's name quite often, especially if he took David to the ball game like he'd promised, and if they got together for more
pinball. A part of her wished Nate wouldn't follow through, but the larger part of her, the part that loved her son beyond reason, prayed that he would. David didn't have a lot of men in his life, so the ones who were allowed in had to be stable and good role models. She owed her son that and so much more.
But what do you owe yourself, CeCe? a voice asked. CeCe shook off the question. She didn't have time to think about herself these days. She had no life without David anyway, so any thoughts about him were also thoughts about herself. She hadn't given her son a very auspicious beginning in this world, but she'd give her last breath making sure that the life he lived was the best she could provide.
God had been faithful, and David didn't seem to have suffered overly much because his biological father wasn't present in the home. CeCe had been reluctant to look for substitutes, choosing rather to keep David and herself protected in the love and care of Miss Brinson and Mr. Towers for the most part. She hadn't even allowed the people at her church to breach the barrier she'd erected, not really. She'd been afraid to let people see the real her. Afraid they would reject her once they saw her as she was. But somehow, she realized now, Anna Mae and Shay had sneaked in, almost without her noticing it, and she already cherished the friendships she was forming with them. She wondered if it wasn't time to allow more people in. Nate, for instance. It seemed right, if only because she'd met Anna Mae and Shay through him.
How did she go about making a place for him in their lives? It sounded easy enough, but God knows, she had no idea how she was going to do it. Lord, please, she prayed silently, don't let me make a fool of myself with this man. He's being nice to my son, and he's being nice to me. Don't let me read too much into it. He hasn't shown anything but a friendly interest in me, and so far I've reacted as though he's been stalking me. Show me how to be a friend to him. He wants to be David's friend, so show me how to allow that friendship, in spite of the conflicting feelings I have about him. Thank you for widening my circle of close Christian friends. As usual, you're meeting my needs before I even ask.
The prayer lightened her thoughts considerably, and she was able to attend more closely to David's queries and comments. By the time she pulled into her driveway, she'd thought of an additional plea. And Lord, she added, if it's your will that something more should come of this friendship with Nate, don't let me scare myself off. Teach me how to have a relationship. I have a child, but I've never had a relationship. I want one, but I'm scared. So, if this one is it, teach me how to make it work.
Chapter 6
CeCe knew she should have gone to the beauty parlor to get her hair done. As she stared in her bathroom mirror at the frizz that was her hair, she was convinced that she'd been out of her mind to think she could take care of the task herself. "Help!" she yelled. "Miss Brinson, I need you."
Miss Brinson and David came rushing into CeCe's once-large-but-growing-smaller-by-the-minute bathroom. "What is it, CeCe?" Miss Brinson asked. "Why are you screaming?"
CeCe turned around to face her son and her friend. "Look at my hair," she wailed. "What am I going to do? Nobody is going to talk to me with my hair like this!"
"What's wrong, Mama?" David asked, his eyes wide.
CeCe turned around and opened her arms to her son. "Mama's just fine, David. I'm going to a fancy dinner tonight, and I'm a little nervous about it."
"Oh," David said, sliding off her lap. "I thought you were sick or something." With those words, the child eased past Miss Brinson and out of the bathroom.
The older woman watched the child leave the room and shook her head. "He certainly handled that well, didn't he?"
"He's growing up on me, and much too fast." CeCe turned back to her mirror. "What am I going to do with my hair? It's after seven, and Nate's going to be here at eight-thirty. If he sees me looking like this, he's going to withdraw his invitation." She caught Miss Brinson's grin in the mirror. "What's so funny?"
Miss Brinson lowered the lid on the toilet and sat down. She took CeCe's hand. "You're excited about tonight, aren't you?"
CeCe wanted to pull her hand away and say no. Instead, she took courage from her friend's touch. "More nervous than excited."
Miss Brinson squeezed her fingers. "CeCe, this is me you're talking to. I think I know you about as well as anybody. Why can't you admit that you're excited about tonight? There's no sin in it."
CeCe did pull her hand away then. "I just feel so silly. I'm twenty-six years old, and you'd think I was getting ready to go to the prom instead of to a Gala for all the bigwigs in Atlanta."
"What's wrong with that? Stop thinking so much and enjoy yourself. You have a gorgeous dress—"
CeCe twirled a Q-Tip in her fingers and continued to pout. "Thanks to you. Left to myself, I'd be wearing that navy suit that I wear every time I have to dress up."
"That's beside the point. The point is that you have a gorgeous dress. It looks gorgeous on you, and you look gorgeous in it."
"You're biased," CeCe said, but she agreed with Miss Brinson. The off-the-shoulder black dress with thin straps was gorgeous. She looked pretty decent when she put it on, even if she had to say so herself.
"Well, I may be biased," Miss Brinson said, "but it doesn't mean that I'm a liar. Now your dress is gorgeous, and I'm sure I can do something with this hair. I won't bother to remind you that I told you to go to the beauty parlor."
CeCe didn't see a need to respond to that statement. "Do you really think you can do something with it?"
"Of course I can." Miss Brinson got up and stood behind CeCe. "Now hand me that curling iron. You'll see what I can do."
CeCe did as she was told and sent up a silent prayer that her friend could work a miracle. As she sat and watched, a miracle formed right before her eyes. There was hair under all that frizz after all. Not long, flowing hair, but short, coarse hair that she'd inherited from her father's side of the family. When done right—and Miss Brinson was doing it right—it could be curled and feathered around her face to give her a look that had more than once been described as angelic.
Miss Brinson made quick work of it, with few words beyond "turn your head" and "hold your ear." When she was finished, she said, "Now what was all the fuss about?"
CeCe turned and pulled her friend into her arms. "I love you. You know that, don't you?"
"Sure you do," Miss Brinson said gruffly. "Now what else do you have to do if you're going to be ready before your date gets here?"
"I told you," CeCe said, correcting her friend for what seemed like the hundredth time, "he's not my date. We're just going together."
"That's a date, CeCe." Miss Brinson shrugged. "I'm looking forward to meeting this man who's put the household in such an uproar. David talks about him as though he hung the stars in the sky, and you're flitting around here like this non-date is a real date and a really important one, at that."
CeCe concentrated on putting on her makeup and tried not to let Miss Brinson's words make her more nervous than she already was. She was blessed with good skin, so the ritual was brief. Normally she wore moisturizer under a light foundation. Tonight she was going to add a tinge of blush and some lipstick. "The evening is important. I'm going to meet some people who could turn out to be valuable contacts in my real estate business. The better I do with the real estate, the sooner I can pay off my debts and we can get going with our day-care center. So I have a reason to be nervous. A lot is riding on this evening."
"If you say so."
CeCe continued with her makeup under Miss Brinson's watchful eye. Neither woman spoke, which wasn't new for them. They were comfortable with the silences. "Did you see the mail today?" Miss Brinson asked after a while.
That statement made CeCe's hand wobble, and she marred her lipstick line. After taking care of the error with a damp tissue, she tried again. "Yes, I saw the mail." She'd also seen the letter from Eric's parents. She hadn't opened it, but neither had she ripped it up and thrown it in the wastebasket. She hadn't wanted to give any place to the emotio
ns that thinking about the letter would evoke. She still didn't. "I don't want to talk about it. Not tonight. I have enough on my mind as it is." Her tone was curt, she knew, but sometimes B.B. didn't know when to let a topic rest.
"It's going to be here when you get back," Miss Brinson said. "Ignoring it won't make the situation go away any more than tearing up those letters does."
CeCe stopped with the makeup. What was the use? She wasn't going to get anything done until she finished this conversation. She turned to her friend. "Why are you doing this to me tonight? You know how much those letters upset me, and you know how nervous I am about tonight. Why are you being so cruel?" CeCe felt the tears build in her eyes, but she was determined not to let them fall. Not tonight. Tonight was going to be special. She was going to be nice to Nate and they were going to have a good time. She'd never gone to anything like this Gala, and a part of her was giddy with excitement, though she tried to hide it.
Miss Brinson didn't say anything. She leaned forward and kissed CeCe on her forehead. Then she turned and left the room. The tears that CeCe had been trying to keep at bay began to fall as soon as Miss Brinson closed the bathroom door.
* * *
Nate pulled the phone away from his ear so he could adjust his cuff links. The right one done, he put the phone back to his ear. He stood in his second-floor bedroom trying to get ready to pick up CeCe for the Gala. "Look, Stuart, if you keep me on the phone all night, we're both going to be late."
"Wait a minute," came Stuart's voice. "Did you get her flowers?" Nate frowned and moved the phone away from his ear to take care of the other cuff link. He put the phone back. "Of course, I got her flowers, Stuart. I'm not a jerk, you know." A part of Nate wanted to hang up on his friend. He was more than a bit annoyed that Stuart had felt the need to call and give him pointers.
"I know you're not a jerk," Stuart said. "But you didn't get her a dozen red roses, did you?"
Nate looked at the box containing a dozen red roses that lay on his bed. "What's wrong with roses?" he asked.
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