“Where you goin’?” Beryl asked me.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, thinking that whatever Regan had to say better be worth the tip I was about to lose from Mrs. Whittle.
I gave Regan a small wave before I jumped into my truck and then backed out of the strip mall parking lot. Thank God there was a red light right there because it gave me a chance to check out Instagram real quick. By the time the light turned green, I had Gabrielle’s page open and had found a couple of the pictures I was looking for—yup, this woman behind me in that black Mercedes was Gabrielle’s best friend.
I’d been dodging Buck, but I sure needed him now. I dialed his number and then hoped he’d pick up right away. And my hope came true.
“Yo, where you been?”
“I’ve been staying with Beryl,” I said. That was the lie that I’d prepared for him.
“What’s up with that? Why you ain’t stayin’ with me?”
I rolled my eyes. Buck knew my issues with his daddy, and this was why I hadn’t told Buck anything—not about my mama finally dying, not about having to move out of Mrs. Johnson’s back house, nothing. But I needed him to know what was up now. “I’ll tell you everything later, but I gotta tell you this now, and I have to talk quick, so just listen.”
“What’s goin’ down?”
“Remember Gabrielle, my father’s daughter who lives in LA?”
“Yeah?”
Glancing in my rearview mirror, my eyes were on that black Mercedes when I said, “Well, her best friend is here and she was looking for me.”
“Get out. Here in White Haven?”
I told Buck everything that had gone down at the shop, and then I said, “So what should I do?”
“What you should do is go and get that money.”
Just another reason for me to roll my eyes. It was always about that for him. I mean, I was down for the money, too—that was the reason why I wanted to connect with Elijah. But we had to handle it right. “So what am I supposed to do? Tell her to turn over her wallet?”
“So you don’t think that’s a good approach?” He laughed. “Okay, boo, I got you. Just play this out. Listen to what she has to say.”
Finally, he was being serious. “Should I tell her that I know about Gabrielle?”
“Nah, don’t show none of your cards. See what they’re playing with first. Find out what she wants, but don’t say too much. Then let’s hook up right after and we’ll come up with a game plan.”
“Okay,” I told him when I was about a block from the diner. “I’ll call you.” Clicking off my cell, I checked the rearview mirror again, still not believing this was happening. Was this going to be the real connection to my father?
I wasn’t going to have to wait too much longer to figure this out, because right then I made the left turn onto the gravel of the Sizzlin’ Griddle, and then Regan parked her Mercedes next to me. I took a deep breath, then stepped out of my truck first, and when Regan slid out of her rental, she eyed my truck as I eyed her shoes. My 2002 Ford pickup told one story, and her red-bottom shoes told another. Now both of us knew a little more about each other.
I led her into the diner, and since it was pretty empty, I sat in the booth closest to the door.
“What are you gals having?” the waitress said, attending to us right away.
Regan looked at me and I didn’t know if she expected me to order a full meal or what. But all I said was, “I’ll just have an orange juice.”
Regan said, “And I’ll have a coffee . . . No,” she held up her hand, “I’m sorry. Make that a cup of tea, please.”
Once the waitress left us alone, I got right to the point. “So what do you want to talk to me about?”
Regan gave me that smile again. “Can you tell me a little about yourself?”
“Why?” I folded my arms. “I don’t even know who you are.”
“That’s fair.” She nodded. “As I said, I’m an attorney and I’m representing a client.”
“A client for what? Someone’s trying to sue me?”
“No”—she held up her hand—“definitely not. This could be good news, but I wanted to meet and speak with you first, so please talk to me.”
I guessed she wasn’t going to be moved, so if I wanted to find out what she wanted, I had to tell her a little something. I shrugged. “I don’t have a lot to say. I was born and raised here in White Haven.”
Regan nodded. “So you work at the shop?”
“Yeah.”
“Where do you live?”
I pressed my lips together. “I don’t think I should be giving you that kind of information.”
Then she gave me a look, like a pitying look, like she already knew I was living in my car. But I wasn’t about to confess to my homelessness.
She said, “Okay, this is going to come as a shock to you. But I think you have a sister.”
I raised my eyebrows, totally into the act of deception. “I don’t have a sister. I was my mother’s only child. She just died, so if there is someone trying to pull a scam on me, trying to get money from me, I just need to tell you . . .”
Regan held up her hand. “No, it’s nothing like that. Actually, you’re right. I believe you were your mother’s only child. But you may have a half sister. You share a father.”
Still in full acting mode, I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know who my father is.”
“I know.”
And then she went on to tell me the story of my father, Elijah, and how he’d met my mother—facts that I already knew. At the end, she said, “And so your mother sent him this letter.”
She moved too quickly for me to react, and before I could do anything, the envelope was out of her purse and the paper was unfolded in front of me. All I could do was stare, not touching it at all. I couldn’t because right in front of me was Mama—well, maybe not my mama exactly, but there was a piece of her in the form of a slip of paper with her handwriting all over it. It was like she was still alive.
I read the letter, then blinked and blinked and blinked, because I didn’t want to get into the real role and cry. But as I read the letter, it was hard to hold this all inside because my mama was trying to take care of me, even from the grave. Now I got it. Now I understood why my mama never told me about my father.
Regan whispered, “Is that your mother’s handwriting?”
I nodded because I couldn’t get any words past the rock stuck inside my throat.
“So that’s why I think this is true. I think my best friend is your sister.”
I read my mother’s words again, then sat back in the booth. It was the tears in my eyes, the rock in my throat, and Mama’s voice now in my head that was stopping me from thinking. I wasn’t sure what I should do at this point. Should I just cry? Should I be happy? How should I play this? Because what I wanted to do was jump up and down.
So I didn’t go with an act. I went with my gut. I said, “I can’t believe this.”
“I know . . . it’s a shock. But now that this is out, what I’d like to do is take you to Los Angeles.”
I had to pause and take in this moment. For all these years, for all the ways I’d been trying to scheme my way to get to Los Angeles, and now . . . this. Still, I was Daisy Jones’s child, so I said, “To Los Angeles? But . . . I live here.”
“Of course. I’m not saying for you to move there. Just for a visit. Just so you can meet them.” She nodded as if she were trying to reassure me. “You wouldn’t have to stay; we’re just hoping this is something you’d want to do in person.”
I sat there as if I were unsure even though I wanted to ask when was the next flight? “Suppose I go through all the trouble of making this trip and . . . these people aren’t even related to me?”
“Well, if that happens, you’ll get a free trip to Los Angeles and you’ll have a chance to meet some really great people.”
I nodded as if her words made sense, but I didn’t say anything else.
“I know this is a l
ot for you to take in right now.” Regan reached into her purse and pulled out a card. “So why don’t you think about it. This is my cell.” She jotted a number on the back. “I’m staying at the Holiday Inn Express.”
I raised an eyebrow. That was the best hotel in White Haven.
“Give me a call tomorrow and let me know what you decide. No pressure. This is up to you. But I’ll be heading back to Los Angeles tomorrow or Sunday.”
I nodded and stayed silent just long enough for Regan to think that I was giving her offer some serious thought. Just as she began to slip out of the booth, I said, “Are you going to tell Gabrielle that you met me?”
Regan froze. I mean, she was halfway between standing up and sitting down, and it was like she was stuck in midair. But it was the look on her face that made me inhale. What had I done? So I asked her, “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head, sat back down, and frowned. “I didn’t realize that . . . I told you . . . your sister’s name.”
Her eyes were on me like a laser.
Damn. How could I have made a mistake like that? “Yeah,” I began, and I frowned, too, like I didn’t know what she was talking about. “You said I had a sister and you said her name.” After a pause, I said, “How else would I know her name?”
After a moment, Regan nodded before she stood. “I guess, I just . . .” Then her smile went away. “You let me know. Of course, you don’t have to worry about anything; I’ll cover all of your expenses if you decide to come to Los Angeles.”
I nodded, then watched her walk out the door and roll away in that fancy car.
By the time that Mercedes was out of my sight, I had made my decision—I decided I wasn’t even going back to Beryl’s. Why should I waste that trip?
All I was going to do was get in my car and figure out what I was going to take to LA and what I was going to leave over at Buck’s. Because finally, I was on my way to having the life that I should have had in the first place. Maybe God did care about me after all.
10
Gabrielle
Hold on,” I said to Regan as her face came into view through my computer. “Let me close the door.”
Actually, I was alone since it was well after seven, but I made this move just in case Pamela, Mattie, or anyone else walked back into the office.
When I bounced into my chair, I smiled into the computer’s camera, ready for the update. “So, if you’re calling me this late on a Friday . . .”
“Why are you still in the office?”
I frowned. That would have been a normal question from Regan, if I weren’t sitting here so far on the edge of my seat I was about to fall off. “Ummm . . . ’cause I’m finalizing the Contour presentation? Remember, that’s why I’m not down in Arkansas. And speaking of me being here and you there . . .” I adjusted the screen to make sure I had the best view of Regan’s face. She was inside her hotel room, but I could see she wasn’t as relaxed as she’d been these last few days. That made me frown. No, Regan wasn’t wearing any kind of look that said she had good news. “You didn’t find her?” I asked, hearing the disappointment in my tone.
She hesitated, she nodded, and then she spoke ever so slowly. “I did.”
“What?” Thank God for the desk that blocked me from slipping to the floor. “When?”
“Earlier today.” She spoke with such nonchalance I wondered if we were having the same conversation.
“Earlier? How much earlier? And if you found her earlier, why are you just calling me now?”
She held up her hands. “If you’re going to cross-examine someone, you have to give them a chance to respond.”
“Sorry. But tell me . . . you found Keisha?” I just wanted to make sure.
“I did. I still haven’t been able to find a home address for her, but I tracked her down at work and drove to the shop this morning.”
“Shop?”
“She’s a hairstylist,” Regan explained. “At least, that’s the assumption I’m making based on where she works.”
I nodded. “So tell me everything. Please.”
Regan took a breath, and then I had to hold mine as she told me about going into some shop called Beryl’s House of Beauty, finding Keisha, and then talking to her in the diner. And then Regan stopped. I mean, she just stopped, like that was supposed to be the end.
I waited for a moment because I wondered if she’d done that only for effect. But when she said nothing else, I asked, “So, what did she say?”
“Well,” Regan’s voice slowed down again. “She was surprised.”
“I can understand that. And . . .”
“And . . . that’s it. She’s going to think about it and let me know if she’ll be making the trip to Los Angeles.”
I felt my shoulders sink. “So she didn’t agree to that right away?”
She shook her head.
“Ugh,” I said, thinking that I still couldn’t call my father with any kind of news. When he called me tomorrow, I’d have to tell him what I’d been telling him—that Regan didn’t know anything yet. Especially now—I couldn’t say a word because it would be worse if he knew we’d found her and then she’d decided that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. “Do you think she’ll come to LA?”
Regan nodded. “Oh, she’ll come. I’m sure of it.”
“Okay, good.” And then I waited for Regan to agree that everything she’d told me was all good. But my friend just stared into the camera, her eyes exposing her thoughts.
“What’s bothering you?” I asked but didn’t give her a chance to answer. “You found her, and you think she’ll come.” And then I thought back to Mauricio’s warnings. “Do you think she’s not my father’s daughter?”
“Oh, no,” Regan said with certainty. “She’s your father’s daughter all right. I mean, your father has to do a DNA test . . .”
I sat back in my seat. “Now you sound like Mauricio.”
“Your husband is a smart man. No matter what, we still need the test, but I can tell you she looks more like your dad than you do. She’s Elijah Wilson in drag.”
The image of that took my angst about a DNA test away and made me laugh. “So then what’s wrong, Regan?”
“She knew your name.”
I blinked, trying to get those words to make some kind of sense. “What?”
She repeated her words, and then she went on to tell me about that part of their conversation. “I’m telling you, I didn’t tell her your name.”
“Well, you had to have. How else would she have known it?”
She paused. “I know, I guess, but if I’d told her, that would have been a rookie mistake. Because that would give her a chance to google you and find out about you.” She shook her head. “No, that’s a mistake, and I don’t make many of those.”
“True that. But maybe in this case, you’re being more of a friend than an attorney. Maybe that’s why you slipped.”
“Being your friend over being an attorney is even more reason for me to protect you.”
“Okay, I get it. You didn’t want her to know my name, but even if she does, it’s cool, Regan. I don’t mind. Because what difference does it make? She is my sister. It’s not like she can run some sort of scam on me.”
“Maybe . . .”
I blew out a long breath, thinking Regan was about to take me into one of those conversations like I’d had with Mauricio the other night. “I don’t understand what’s bothering you. We have the letter, we have the photo, you met her and she’s real . . .”
“And she looks like your dad.”
“Exactly. So what’s your concern?”
“No concern,” Regan said as if she were burdened with all kinds of concerns.
“Great, then, I can’t wait.”
“Well, don’t say anything to your dad yet; let’s see what she says.”
“If she says no, I’m coming down there myself.”
“Like I told you, I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes
. I expect to hear from her tonight or in the morning, the latest, because she knows I’ll be leaving soon.”
“I’m so excited,” I said to Regan and was a little surprised that my sister-friend didn’t share my joy. And then I got it. For so long, it had been just me and Regan. From the youth program at our church to being in the same sixth-, then seventh-, then eighth-grade class, we shared the only kind of DNA that mattered—we shared DNA of the heart.
That was what was bothering Regan—it had to be. There was a part of her that thought she’d lose me, that perhaps thought she could be replaced because of that stupid blood-water cliché. I’d just have to find a way to let her know that, in the words of our middle school crush, MC Hammer, Keisha can’t touch this. No one would ever be able to re-create the sister bond we had.
“Well, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from her,” Regan said, bringing me back.
“Okay, I’ll be praying.”
“Yeah, do that.”
That made me frown. Not her words—we were praying women, so that was something we said to each other all the time. But she said it now with a bit of urgency in her voice. Like the prayer was more for me than for her and that I needed it—for real. But then I shook that thought away and I told her, “Love you.”
She finished with “More.” And then she added, “Don’t stay in the office too late. You have a husband and daughter to get home to,” as if I needed that reminder—which I sometimes did. I loved Mauricio and Bella, but there was something about being behind this desk and making all of these decisions that made me lose track of my life. A behavior that so annoyed Mauricio.
Thinking of that made me click off the computer. I wouldn’t be able to work much now anyway. My mind wouldn’t be on anything beyond what Regan had told me.
Stuff was starting to get real. I had a sister, and I was going to meet her. How did I really feel about that?
Leaning back, I closed my eyes. And remembered a time when I was about five or six or seven . . .
Mommy, all the girls in school have one and I want one, too.
Envy Page 7
