by Janice Sims
While some of the original families had sold their homes to the highest bidders, most of the families on Cherisse’s street were third- and fourth-generation Five Pointers.
Cherisse put her key in the lock of the front door, an oak door with a stained-glass window in its upper portion. The image in the stained glass was of an angel floating in the air, wings spread, gently nudging a lost child in the direction of home. Jo called it “the lost sheep.”
Cherisse didn’t get the chance to get the door fully open before Danielle swung it open and yelled, “Mom’s home!”
She grabbed her mother’s shoulder bag and helped her out of her coat, a normal ritual at the end of the day. Then she briefly hugged her mother and kissed her on the cheek.
“Did you hear, Ma?” she asked excitedly, her dark chocolate eyes, so much like her father’s, sparkling with happiness. “Harry Payne has agreed to back me for the Olympics!” She jumped up and down with her mother’s shoulder bag and coat clasped to her chest.
Cherisse couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, yes, I heard. Congratulations!”
Danielle pulled herself together long enough to deposit her mother’s coat on the hall tree and the shoulder bag inside the adjacent closet on the top shelf, after which she regarded her mother again. “We’ve got to do something about your wardrobe before we go to Vail this weekend.”
Her eyes raked over her mother’s body and obviously found it wanting. “And we need to tame that wild hair of yours, too.”
At thirty-seven, Cherisse’s hair had very little gray in it, fell halfway down her back, was thick and naturally wavy. She hadn’t been to a salon in years. For one thing, she could never find the time, what with her work schedule. For another, she had no desire to waste three hours or more sitting in a salon pretending to be patient with the stylist, who had overbooked and therefore made the customers wait for hours, while she was really dreaming up ways to murder her.
“I have a perfectly functional wardrobe,” Cherisse said, walking back to the kitchen where she knew her mother probably was. “And you’re not touching my hair. After thirty-seven years I’ve finally got it the way I want it. There are no chemicals in it, and it’s healthy.”
Danielle, who was five-nine and weighed 155 pounds, was taller and weighed more than her mother. She had her mother’s unruly hair which she tamed by having it braided within an inch of its life, and tying all of the long plaits together at the nape of her neck with colorful ribbons. With her active lifestyle, she couldn’t have her hair flopping in her face every time she went flying down a mountain on skis.
She followed her mother into the kitchen where the three of them had dinner together as often as their schedules permitted. She plopped down in a chair at the table while her mother went to kiss her grandmother’s cheek.
She smiled. The two women were her greatest sources of strength, and she knew it. Her mother may not have been aware of it, but she did appreciate everything she and her grandmother had done for her. Probably the greatest gift they’d given her was the knowledge that a Patterson woman—okay, she was technically a Washington because that was her dad’s name but she felt more like a Patterson—could be and do anything she envisioned.
Her grandmother had been one of the first black female city council members in Denver. She had also taught school for thirty years. She was retired from teaching now but was still involved in the community. Everybody knew Miss Jo, and knew that she was the person to go to whenever you had a problem with city hall. Miss Jo knew the mayor personally and didn’t mind letting him know when he was slipping in the performance of his job. She let him know that he was an elected servant of the people and hadn’t been put into office to line his pockets.
The mayor good-naturedly took Jo’s suggestions in the manner they were intended, out of love for the city. He had even been known to phone her and ask after her health when he hadn’t heard from her in a while.
Jo called his concern two-fold. “On one hand,” she would say, “in a strange way he probably does like me as a person. On the other, I’ve been a thorn in his side, and he would like advance notice if I’m about to kick the bucket and will therefore cease to be a thorn in his side!”
Danielle adored her grandmother’s spirit.
She looked at her mother with a critical eye as the two women across the room started putting dinner on plates. Her mother was a beautiful woman, but she had no inkling of what she was missing by shutting herself off from the rest of the world. Or the part that males lived in.
Danielle knew Neil Kennedy’s death had had something to do with it. She was eleven at the time, but she would have had to be blind not to have seen a change in her mother after Neil had gotten killed by a kid terrified of going to jail. Neil had stopped the kid for a basic traffic violation, but the kid was a small-time drug dealer and was both afraid of answering to the guy he worked for and going to prison. He had heard tales about what happened to “pretty young boys” in prison. He’d panicked and shot Neil before he even heard the reason why he’d been pulled over.
Since Neil’s death her mother hadn’t given another man the opportunity to get close enough to stake a claim on her heart.
Danielle was worried about her. In a few months, she was going to graduate and move on to college. Then, it would be her grandmother and her mother in this big, old house. She knew it was crazy, but she wished her mother would remarry and maybe have another child. She’d always wanted a sister or a brother.
After all of them were sitting around the table, and the blessing had been said, Danielle looked at her mother and said, “Aren’t you curious about the reason I want you to look good this weekend?”
Cherisse finished chewing the delicious piece of meat loaf in her mouth before saying, “Okay, I’ll bite.”
Danielle smiled smugly and removed a folded piece of paper from the waistband of her jeans. Apparently, she’d been prepared for this moment. She unfolded the piece of paper and handed it to her mother. “That’s why,” she said. “You’re going to meet him this weekend, and I’d like him to see you at your best. He’s perfect for you, Ma.”
Cherisse looked down at the photo that her daughter had obviously found on the Internet and printed out for her benefit. It was a photo of Harry Payne taken at the season opening of his resort on Saturday night.
She knew then, without a doubt, that Harry Payne was her Harry.
She handed the photo back to Danielle. “I’ve met him,” she said with a smile. “He already has a girlfriend.”
“No!” Danielle cried, thoroughly disappointed. “Are you sure?”
Cherisse laughed shortly. “We chatted for several minutes, sweetie. Yes, I’m sure he mentioned having a girlfriend.”
“Why are the good ones always taken?” Danielle moaned.
Jo shook her head. At sixty-three, she was a petite, plump woman with big brown eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair that she wore in a short, sassy cut. Her skin was the color of coffee with only a dollop of cream in it. Smooth and brown.
Her only child had gotten her golden-brown skin from her father, Jake, but Danielle inherited her darker brown skin. She was happy to see her granddaughter taking an interest in her mother’s love life. “I don’t know,” Jo replied to Danielle’s question. “But that seems to be the case nowadays. If he’s not married, he’s gay. If he isn’t gay, something is seriously wrong with him. Like he has twenty outside children and ten different women are the mothers to whom he’s paying child support.”
“Or he’s been traumatized by a former marriage,” Cherisse added. “And because the ex-wife was a witch, he can’t trust another woman ever again.”
Danielle was listening closely and agreeing wholeheartedly. “The only thing the boys I know care about is sex, sex, sex!”
Cherisse looked alarmed. “Has Echo been coming on to you?” She couldn’t believe her gaydar was inaccurate. Could it be that Echo really was a blazing heterosexual?
Danielle guffawed. “You don’
t have to worry about Echo. He hasn’t even tried to kiss me.”
This attitude was new to Cherisse. Did her daughter want Echo to kiss her? She thought the two of them were simply buddies.
“Do you want him to think of you in that way?” she asked hesitantly.
Danielle screwed up her face. “I do think he’s hot and to tell you the truth I was so happy when he started hanging round my locker and making smart aleck remarks. I thought he was interested in me. But as it turns out, he just wanted a friend who also skis. Mr. Santiago coaches both of us and he thinks we both have potential. Echo couldn’t be happier.”
Oh, no, Cherisse thought, my baby’s falling for a gay guy. It’s gonna break her heart when she finds out!
She couldn’t believe she was saying this: “You know, sweetie, some of the happiest relationships begin as friendships.” What if her suspicions about Echo’s sexuality proved to be wrong? She couldn’t bear to dash Danielle’s hopes.
The happy expression on Danielle’s face broke her heart. Her daughter truly was falling for Edward James Thornton.
Chapter 4
Marcia was in her dressing room at the station putting on her bright blue power suit. The cameras loved bright colors and her stylist said, with her coloring, she looked best in blue. It was Tuesday morning and she was about to do the seven o’clock news.
Dressed, she glanced down at her watch. The makeup artist was due any minute now. The hairdresser would follow. Marcia loved the little perks that came with her job. She could roll out of bed and come to work in sweats if she wanted to, which she didn’t.
Because she was somewhat of a local celebrity, Marcia didn’t go anywhere unless she was beautifully pulled together. No one was going to see her in before-and-after photos on some Web page!
There was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Marcia called and, thinking it was Jillian, the makeup artist, she went and sat in the high swivel chair in front of the big mirror where Jillian did her makeup every weekday morning.
The door opened and Marcia saw the reflection of a tall male dressed in dark clothing in the mirror. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm. Surely security hadn’t been sleeping on the job and had let some nutcase sneak back here. She had had a problem with overly amorous male admirers before. A couple had gone so far as to stalk her. She’d had to get restraining orders to keep the weirdos away from her.
Quickly getting to her feet, she braced herself for a confrontation. Then, she saw who her early morning visitor was. LaShaun Gregory, star running back for the Broncos, and her ex-boyfriend. No wonder security had let him in. He used to be a frequent visitor to the station, and they loved him. They fell over themselves to get in his good graces. LaShaun often rewarded their devotion with tickets to home games.
Marcia stepped back and, with arms akimbo, asked, “What the hell are you doing here?” Their relationship had ended acrimoniously. He had left her for a woman ten years her junior. Twenty-two years old. LaShaun himself was thirty-one, a year younger than Marcia. Not a huge difference as far as they were concerned when they were in love. At his advanced age, LaShaun was considered close to retirement. Not many professional football players continued to play into their mid-thirties and beyond.
LaShaun had been besieged by sexual come-ons from women as young as eighteen. Unable to resist, he’d started sleeping with one of them. Because he and Marcia had been seeing each other for over two years and had been discussing marriage, he confessed to her that he had a love jones for a twenty-two-year-old.
Marcia had, understandably, hit the ceiling. She cussed him out for all he was worth. Then she gave him an ultimatum—it was either her or the Barbie.
His manly pride hurt from being yelled at by her and told what to do, LaShaun had chosen the twenty-two-year-old. He regretted it almost immediately and a week later tried to phone Marcia to see if he could come over and beg her to take him back.
By then, Marcia had had her home and cell numbers changed. She also had the locks changed on the doors of her house. She had even told security that if he showed up at the station they were to escort him off the premises.
Marcia glared at LaShaun now. “Those wimps in security are going to catch hell!”
She went to walk past him, and LaShaun grabbed her by the upper arm. “Listen to me, Marcia. It’s been six months. Haven’t you made me suffer enough? I know you’ve gotten my e-mails and letters. I know you’ve received my gifts and flowers. Don’t you think that taking up with Harry Payne was a bit over-the-top?”
Marcia jerked her arm free, and punched him on the upper arm. LaShaun didn’t even flinch. “No, I don’t! You slept with that bimbo for I don’t know how long! I’ve only slept with Harry a couple of times. I’m not finished with him yet.”
LaShaun shook his head sadly. “I’ve apologized to you over and over again. Unless you can let go of the revenge scenario you’ve cooked up and come back to me so that we can get on with our lives, I’m officially giving up. I haven’t slept with anyone in over five months. I kept my promise. You need to check yourself. Two wrongs don’t make a right. I love you, and you love me. All you’re doing is setting Harry Payne up for a broken heart. He doesn’t deserve that, he’s a nice guy.”
“I know he’s a nice guy,” Marcia said. “I wouldn’t have chosen him if he weren’t.”
“What you did was wrong, involving him the way you have. How do you know he isn’t already in love with you? You’re playing a dangerous game,” LaShaun said severely.
Marcia sighed and momentarily closed her eyes, wishing LaShaun and his reasonableness away. Why couldn’t he have been reasonable six months ago when he chose that prepubescent over her? Yes, she was using Harry. But she truly liked him, as well. Somewhere down the line, she’d stopped thinking of him as the instrument of torture she was using to get back at LaShaun and had started thinking of him as potential marriage material if LaShaun didn’t bow to her will. A girl had to have a backup plan.
Opening her eyes again she saw that LaShaun was still there, and so was her predicament. It was time for her to choose. Either Harry, or LaShaun.
LaShaun pressed his six-three, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound body against hers. Marcia’s body, the traitor, immediately reacted to his closeness. Harry was hot, but she didn’t love Harry. She loved LaShaun and craved him. He was right. She had to end it with Harry.
LaShaun bent his head and claimed her mouth, showing her exactly what it felt like to be kissed by a man who not only loved her, but also knew he’d been a fool and was ready to make it up to her. His kiss promised her that if she took him back, she would never regret it.
When their lips parted, Marcia stared up at him as if she were seeing him clearly for the first time. Maybe he had changed. “I’ll break it to him gently,” she said.
LaShaun hugged her tightly. “Oh, baby, you’ve made me so happy. We’ll elope!”
Marcia pushed out of his embrace. “No way, all of Denver is going to know about it when we get married. After what you’ve put me through, you owe me that much.”
LaShaun didn’t argue, he just pulled her into his arms again and kissed the top of her head. “You can invite all of Denver if you want to.”
One hundred miles west of Denver, Harry was on the last leg of his five-mile jog along a mountain road. In Vail the temperature was forty degrees. Lower than Denver’s.
While Denver wasn’t in the mountains, several mountains could be seen from the city. Vail, on the other hand, sat smack in the middle of the mountains. Temperatures in November would have an average high of thirty-nine degrees and a low of fifteen degrees. In the month of November they could expect almost sixty-two inches of snow, which made Vail an ideal vacation spot for skiers.
Harry’s cell phone rang, and he reached into his warm-up jacket’s pocket to get it while maintaining his pace.
“Hello.”
“Shall I have Susanne pick you up at the airport on Thanksgiving eve?” asked his mother. Her voice was clear. The ph
one was getting great reception this morning.
“Nah, I’ll rent a car,” said Harry.
“You’re out of breath,” his mother said suspiciously. “Am I interrupting anything?”
Harry laughed. “Just my morning jog.”
Mildred Payne laughed, too. “Oh, I thought maybe Marcia was with you.”
Harry could hear the blush in his mother’s tone of voice. “Marcia rarely spends the night during the week. It’s an almost two-hour drive back to Denver.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your living in the mountains. It’s too cold for me,” said Mildred with an exaggerated shiver. “And you really like it, baby?”
“I really like it, Mom,” Harry confirmed. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow night?”
“I’ll be here,” said Mildred. She wasn’t ready to hang up yet, though. “Did you extend my invitation to Marcia like I asked you to?”
“Yeah, but she’s already promised her family she’s coming home,” Harry said.
“Darn it, I wanted to meet her. You’ve been going out for about four months now, right?” Mildred said.
“More like three.” Harry smiled. His mother really wanted grandchildren from him.
“Do you think she might be the one?” asked Mildred hopefully.
“I like her, Mom. Let’s leave it at that,” said Harry. He didn’t know Marcia well enough to seriously consider marrying her even though marriage was at the top of his timeline list. He definitely had misgivings about marrying a woman who had a problem with the fact that he was devoted to his mother. What kind of life could he have with a woman who was jealous of his relationship with his mother?
He knew his mother didn’t like his being so closemouthed about Marcia. Normally he told her everything about the women he dated except, of course, the intimate details.
