"You can't give her a dozen roses, man. You told her this wasn't a date. You shouldn't give her roses at all."
"Well, you chose a fine time to tell me. Just where do you think I'm going to get something else at this hour?" Nate looked at the roses and felt more and more unprepared for this evening. He didn't think he'd been this nervous on his first date way back in high school.
"OK, it's not that big a problem. Don't give her the dozen. Give her one. She'll like that much better."
"Spoken like a man who's been around," Nate murmured, though he admitted to himself that Stuart's advice was timely. Now that he thought about it, he could well imagine how uncomfortable CeCe would have been had he given her a dozen red roses. His mood was so contrary, though, that he refused to give Stuart the thanks he deserved.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing important. Now if you don't have any more instructions for me, I think I should get off the phone. We're both going to be late picking up our dates—I mean, friends—if we don't get a move on. I'll see you when I get there."
"You bet you will," Stuart said, and Nate could see his friend's grin in his mind's eye. "I can't wait to be introduced to your, ah, friend."
Nate mumbled a good-bye and gladly hung up the phone. He slipped on his shoes and stood in front of the full-length mirror on his closet door to check that nothing was sticking out that wasn't supposed to be sticking out. The black suit was the one he always wore to events like these. He'd spent a lot of money for it, and the quality showed. Besides, it was comfortable. He'd considered getting something new for the occasion, but visions of himself squirming in discomfort all night had changed his mind. He'd opted for comfort over newness.
Satisfied with his attire, he went to the bed and opened the box of roses. Pulling one out, he smelled it and wondered what CeCe's reaction would be when he gave it to her. Then he checked his watch and headed for the door. If he didn't get a move on, he was going to be late.
Nate pulled into CeCe's driveway twenty-five minutes later, his damp palms on the steering wheel the only evidence of his nervousness. He took a deep breath. OK, Nate, you can do this, he told himself. He tilted his head upwards. We can do this, Lord. Give me the wisdom to treat CeCe the way she should be treated. Help me to make this night a fun and relaxing one for both of us.
Armed with renewed confidence, Nate got out of his Mercury Sable—he'd decided against the truck—and headed for the door, rose in hand. With just the slightest hesitation, he rang the bell. This is it, he thought.
The door opened, and the faces he saw belonged to David, who was dressed in his pajamas, and an attractive older woman he hadn't met. The woman was dressed in a tunic and skirt made of Kente cloth. Was this CeCe's mother? He probably should have brought her a flower or some token. Maybe she was the baby-sitter. He didn't have a clue.
"Hi, Mr. Nate," David said, reaching for Nate's hand. "Mama's not ready yet, but you can come in."
Nate smiled at both of them, and then took David's hand. "I like a man who gets to the point."
The woman returned his smile. "That's our David. Do come on in, Mr. Richardson." She stood back so that he could enter.
"I'm Nate," he said.
"Well, then, I'm Gert, or B.B," she said, leading him from the foyer to the living room. She pointed to the sofa upholstered in a muted floral pattern. "Have a seat. You'll hear CeCe call me Miss Brinson sometimes, but that's a carryover from the days when I was her dorm director. Mostly she and David call me B.B., and you're welcome to do the same."
Nate sat down, setting the rose on the table. He felt comfortable with this woman. "Well, thank you, ma'am. I think I'll try B.B." He turned to David, who also had seated himself on the sofa. "What do you say, sport? Do you agree that I should call your—" He looked back at Miss Brinson.
"Oh," she said, "CeCe and I are very good friends, and we share this house."
"We're not just friends, we're family." At the sound of CeCe's voice, Nate looked up and saw her standing in the entranceway. He'd consciously tried to keep his thoughts from dwelling too much on how attractive he found her, but tonight, with her in that dress, he gave up the fight. She was absolutely gorgeous—from her curly hair to the silver slippers on her feet.
Coming to his senses, he stood up. "Hi, CeCe. You look very nice this evening." Talk about understatement. He couldn't tell her what he really thought, of course. No, if he told her how good she looked to him, and how good looking at her made him feel, he'd embarrass them both, not to mention B.B. and David.
CeCe smiled, a real smile that touched her eyes, and he felt his heart turn over. It occurred to him that seeing this woman smile like that could become addictive. "You look very nice yourself, Mr. Richardson. Doesn't Nate look handsome in his suit, David?"
The boy looked at Nate, but he didn't answer. "David's not much on suits," she told Nate. "Sunday mornings are major squirm time for him."
Before Nate could comment, CeCe held out her hand to David. "Tell Nate and B.B. good night, David." After the boy did her bidding, CeCe said to Nate, "I'll be back in a moment. I just want to get him into bed before we leave."
"Can Mr. Nate come, too?" David asked.
"No, David," CeCe began.
The boy's words propelled Nate into action. "No problem. I think I'd like to see my friend off to bed. That is, if you don't mind."
She shook her head. "I don't mind."
He followed CeCe into her son's second-floor bedroom, noticing the shelf filled with stuffed animals above his bed. The boy immediately went down on his knees and said his prayers. He ended with, "And God bless Mama and B.B. and Mr. Nate. Amen." Then he hopped into bed, and CeCe tucked him in, leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead when he was all settled. "I love you, David."
"Love you, too, Mama. Can Mr. Nate read me a story?"
"You've already had your story tonight, David," CeCe said.
"Another night?"
Nate spoke up before CeCe could bite back the pain she felt at her child's obvious need. "Sure, sport. I'll read to you some other time." Then he leaned down and kissed the youngster on his forehead just as he'd seen CeCe do.
The boy smiled, and Nate's heart turned over again. This boy and his mother had quickly made their own places in his heart. He stepped back and exited the room. CeCe followed. As she turned off the light, he heard her say, "Sleep well, sweetheart."
"Sorry about that," she said, once they were in the hallway. "David seems to like you a lot."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. I appreciate your allowing me to be a part of your family time. I'm honored, in fact."
CeCe said nothing, but Nate could sense the wheels turning in her head, and he wondered what she was thinking. She led him back down the stairs, where she took her wrap from the hall closet. Nate finally remembered his rose. "I have something for you," he said. He stepped into the living room and brought back the rose. "For you," he said as he extended it to her.
Her eyes brightened in childish delight. Then she brought the rose to her nose and closed her eyes briefly as she inhaled its fragrance. "Oh, thank you, Nate. This is so sweet."
It was his turn to be speechless. The lump in his throat stopped any words he might have spoken. CeCe's pleasure in his simple gift had almost undone him. Glad for something to do, he helped her on with her wrap. When they were ready to leave, she called out to B.B., who joined them in the foyer. "Enjoy yourselves," the older woman said. "And take good notes, CeCe. I want to hear everything."
* * *
Nate and CeCe didn't talk much on the drive to the Peachtree Plaza. CeCe picked out a CD—he was glad to see it was Fred Hammond, a favorite of his—and they contented themselves listening to the music and entertaining their own thoughts. In short order, though, he was helping her out of the car and leading her into the glass elevator that would take them to the Sundial Restaurant on the hotel's seventy-third floor. Her hand rested lightly on his arm, and he could feel the tension in her as he led her off the
elevator and into the throng of the other Gala attendees.
He leaned down to her. "Ready to have some fun and make a few contacts in the process?"
She nodded, and he felt her relax a bit. "I'm game if you are."
En route to their table, Nate spotted Stuart out of the corner of his eye. If there had been a way to delay introducing CeCe to his friend until later in the evening, Nate would have done so. Unfortunately, Stuart was making a beeline directly for them. "Brace yourself," Nate said to CeCe. "Here comes the judge."
Her eyes widened in question. "The judge? My judge?"
"One and the same." He felt her tense up again. "Don't let Stuart bother you. He's a good guy—most of the time. Like most good friends, though, sometimes he goes overboard in his teasing. Let's hope he's on his best behavior tonight. OK, here he is."
Nate and CeCe both turned just as Stuart reached them. Nate wondered, as he always did, how Stuart managed to look as relaxed and comfortable in formal settings like this as he did on bowling night with the boys.
"Well, it's about time you got here," Stuart said, all smiles and grace. "I've been looking all over for you." He turned to CeCe, but spoke to Nate. "So are you going to introduce me or not?"
Or not, Nate thought, but of course he didn't say it. "I think you've already met."
Stuart took one of CeCe's hands in both of his. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Williams. I'm sorry our first meeting couldn't have been under more favorable circumstances. I can only hope that your experience at Genesis House thus far has proven that I'm not an ogre."
CeCe's lips curved sweetly, and Nate knew Stuart had won her over. He had to give his friend credit. He definitely had a way with words.
"Call me CeCe," she said. "As to whether or not you're an ogre, the jury is still out on that one. I'll let you know after a hundred and six more hours."
Stuart chuckled, then turned to look at Nate. "You owe me, my friend," Stuart said, a clear message in his eyes. "And I mean big time."
Nate let that remark go unanswered. "So where's your date?" The question was his subtle way of reminding Stuart to find his own woman and leave his alone.
"Unlucky me," Stuart said with a self-deprecating grin. "She had to cancel at the last minute. I was hoping I could hang out with you and CeCe. You don't mind, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, Stuart turned to CeCe. "Nate tells me that you're in real estate." Before CeCe could nod her response, Stuart continued, "If that's the case, there are some people that you have to meet. Come on, Nate," he said, appropriating CeCe's hand, "let's introduce CeCe around."
Nate found himself following behind CeCe and Stuart, and he felt like a lost puppy dog. What was Stuart trying to prove, anyway? Was he interested in CeCe himself? Nate shook off that thought. Stuart wasn't interested in CeCe. His friend wasn't the type to do something like that. But Stuart did like games, and Nate had a pretty good idea what game he was playing now. His only question was whether he should kill his friend now or later.
* * *
CeCe felt awkward with the interplay between Stuart and Nate. Something was going on between them, and she was sure it concerned her. She cast a quick glance up at Stuart. He was charming enough, if you liked the polished type, but she'd come with Nate and she wanted to be with Nate. She couldn't very well tell Stuart that she didn't want him to introduce her around, though, now could she? Maybe Nate had arranged for Stuart to do the duty. He probably knew more of these people than Nate did, anyway.
She rejected that thought as quickly as it had come. Nate had pointedly asked Stuart about his date. She slid her gaze back toward Nate and noticed his jaw had tightened. Was he upset with his friend? with her?
She stopped suddenly, causing Nate to bump into her from the back. Over his muttered "excuse me," she said, "If it's all right, gentlemen, I'd like to leave this wrap at our table before we make our rounds."
"No problem," Nate answered. He stepped closer to her and took her wrap, dislodging her hand from Stuart's and handing him the wrap at the same time. "You'll take it back for her, won't you, Stuart?" he said, to his friend's slack-jawed surprise. "I'd like to introduce CeCe to Mr. Cronin. I know he buys and sells lots of properties in the area."
Chapter 7
Nate pretended interest in Mr. Cronin's running monologue of his development projects in southwest Atlanta, but his real interest was CeCe Williams. He was enjoying being with her this evening. After she'd gotten over her initial nervousness, he believed she'd started to enjoy being with him as well. When another couple joined their discussion with Mr. Cronin, Nate deftly took CeCe's arm and led her away from the group. He smiled down to her and asked, "Having a good time?"
The warmth of her smile touched that place inside him that had become hers. "Wonderful. I'm so glad you invited me."
A feeling of total contentment encompassed him, and he grinned. "Not even Mr. Cronin's relentlessness has put a damper on your evening?" The big man had apparently taken a liking to CeCe, for he'd sought them out on several occasions during the evening. He'd been almost as bad as Stuart. Fortunately, Stuart had finally taken the hint and left him and CeCe alone.
She shook her head, an impish grin on her face. "He says that he wants to talk to me about a couple of his Bankhead and Cascade projects."
Nate placed his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. "And if you believe that, I should be trying to sell you some swampland in Florida."
"Are you saying that Mr. Cronin has something other than a professional interest in me?" she asked, studying him over the rim of her glass.
"Nah, I'm not saying that. I'm saying the man is a lecher and you'd better watch out."
CeCe covered her mouth with her hand, almost choking on her iced tea as she tried to stifle her laughter. "You're awful. You know that, don't you?" she said when she recovered.
"Just honest, CeCe. I've told you that before. I'm just an honest man."
CeCe looked into his eyes as if she were measuring the truth in his words. He withstood her scrutiny, feeling it was important to her that he do so. "You know, I'm beginning to think you may be just what you say you are," she concluded.
A man couldn't ask for more, Nate thought, so he moved on to less intense ground. "Do you want to get some air? It's getting a bit stuffy in here." He nodded his head to the left, where he could see Mr. Cronin fast approaching. "Unless you want to get an early start on those Cronin projects."
"I'll need my wrap," she said.
When she would have turned to go get it from their table, he tucked her arm snugly in his and led her toward the door. "We have to make a quick getaway. If you need a wrap, I'll give you my jacket."
CeCe nodded, and Nate led her out of the ballroom. Their trek took them on the same path they'd taken when they'd entered the building about three hours ago. He led her around the circular drive and onto the sidewalk, content to stroll with her, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the night sounds of downtown Atlanta on the Fourth of July. People dotted the sidewalks and cafe entrances. Strands of soft jazz mixed with more urban tunes filled the air, as a line of couples formed to wait for rides in a white horse-drawn carriage. Nate didn't need Stuart to tell him that a carriage ride would be inappropriate for his non-date with CeCe, though he found the notion intriguing.
While they were waiting for the light to change at the intersection of Peachtree and International, CeCe said, "Stuart's a nice guy. How long have you two known each other?"
"Too long," Nate quipped. He placed his hand on the small of her back and helped her off the sidewalk and across the street. He certainly didn't want to spend this time talking about Stuart. He hoped she didn't either.
"What's the matter?" she asked. Her soft chuckle told him she had heard the irritation in his voice and found it amusing. "I thought Stuart was cute tonight."
Nate groaned. "Cute? Are we talking about the same Stuart?"
She leaned to her side and bumped him with her shoulder. "Come on, you know what I mean. I ad
mit that he threw me at first with all the attention, but I soon figured out that he was just doing it to rag on you. He was being the typical little brother-slash-best friend."
Nate gave what he knew sounded a lot like a snort. "That's exactly what he is. We've known each other since the first day of law school. Stuart, Marvin, and I quickly became Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, or The Three Musketeers, depending on how you want to look at it. There was a lot of pressure in law school—social and academic—and I'm not sure I would have made it through with my faith intact had it not been for those guys. There's no doubt God put us together for that reason."
"And you all three ended up in Atlanta."
He dropped his hand from her back and enclosed her fingers lightly in his. They weren't really holding hands, he reasoned, but they were close. "Marvin went to undergrad at Morehouse, Shay was from here, and so they had always planned to come back. Believe it or not, Stuart was a New Yorker who considered Atlanta much too slow for him. One day I'll tell you the story of how he got here. Not tonight, though. I think Stuart has made enough of an impression on you."
"My story's pretty simple. My family's from the Chicago area, and I always wanted to practice near them. I did for a while." He stopped speaking and considered how much he should tell CeCe. He didn't want to overwhelm her by dumping too much on her at one time, but neither did he want to lie to her. He decided to be vague. For now. "Circumstances brought me here, and I'd like to believe that God has kept me here."
CeCe looked up at him as if she expected him to say more. Before he could decide what more to say, she eased her hand out of his and brushed it needlessly across her hair. Then she said, "You must miss your family. Is the Richardson clan a large one?"
"Fairly." He shrugged, not sure what had changed between them but certain something had. "My mom and dad, and three sisters, though sometimes the three of them seem more like thirty."
"So which kid are you?" she asked, with a twinkle in her eyes that made him think that whatever had concerned her was now all right. "No, don't answer. Let me guess. I'd say you're the oldest."
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