“Jacquie, what in the world happened?” Jasmine asked.
Jacqueline held her arms out like she was Carrie from the Carrie movies. You would’ve thought she was drenched in blood, the way she was acting.
“M … m … my dress,” Jacqueline sobbed. “She messed up my dress!”
“Is that punch?” Jasmine asked. “Oh, my God! This is a four-hundred-dollar Dior dress!”
Four hundred dollars! Rachel wanted to scream. For a kid’s dress?
Jacqueline continued sobbing as her mother dropped the dress and held her tightly. Rachel would’ve thought Jasmine would be too concerned about messing up her designer duds to hug her daughter so tight. But it was obvious Jasmine’s only focus was Jacqueline. The way she was trying to comfort the little girl almost made Jasmine seem, well, human. Almost anyway.
“Calm down, sweetie,” Jasmine said, finally pulling away from her daughter, “and tell me what happened.”
“Sh … she did it,” Jacqueline wailed, pointing to Nia, who was standing off to the side, her head held low.
Everyone turned to Nia, who suddenly started crying herself as she raced into her mother’s arms. “It was an accident, Mommy!” she cried. “I didn’t mean to do it.”
Rachel’s eyes grew wide. Nia did this?
“I was tryna to pour me some more punch and she bumped into me.” Nia buried her head in her mother’s midsection.
“Shhhh, calm down,” Rachel said soothingly as she stroked her daughter’s hair. While Rachel didn’t condone messing up the girl’s dress, she couldn’t help but feel that’s what Jasmine’s bourgie behind got. Really, who would spend four hundred dollars on a kid’s dress for a reception that the child would only be at for thirty minutes?
Jasmine cut her eyes at Nia like she was trying to determine if it was indeed an accident.
“I told her I was sorry,” Nia sniffed.
Rachel looked over at Jasmine. “I’m so sorry about this,” Rachel said, sincerely.
Jasmine took a deep breath but didn’t respond. Some of the punch from Jacqueline’s dress had seeped onto her suit, from when she’d hugged the little girl. She glanced down at the spot on the front of her suit as well. “Let’s go get cleaned up,” Jasmine said, pulling her daughter toward the door.
Wow, this couldn’t have worked out better, Rachel thought as she watched them walk off. She made a mental note to remind Nia about being more careful, then she’d take her out for ice cream to celebrate a job well done.
“Jordan,” she called out to her son, who was still sitting against the wall, pouting. “Come get your sister and take her upstairs to the sitter.”
“Can I stay in the room?” he asked, finally getting excited.
Rachel nodded.
“Yes!” Jordan exclaimed. “Come on, clumsy mumsy.”
“I’m not clumsy, it was an accident.” Nia pouted as she stomped off behind her brother.
Rachel took a deep breath and turned back around to Cecelia. The woman had stayed silent during the entire exchange. “I’m so sorry about that,” Rachel said.
“I understand,” Cecilia said, although she didn’t sound believable. “I have two grandchildren myself and they can get rather rambunctious.”
Rachel released a sigh of relief as she tried to change the conversation. “So do you mind if I ask, how do you enjoy being the first lady?”
“Well, it has its challenges, but it’s a position I enjoy tremendously. I was actually quite disheartened the reverend has decided not to seek reelection.” She was talking to Rachel but her eyes seemed to be scanning the room. “So are you worried at all?” she asked, her gaze settling back on Rachel.
“Not at all,” Rachel lied, even though she was getting more worried by the minute, especially with her kids acting up. “I think Lester would make an excellent president and when I look at all that he’s done for our church and our community, I can only imagine what he could do if allowed to branch out. I love our church, but I feel like he’s been limited there. He’d be able to soar as president of the ABC. Personally, I think the membership wants a young, seasoned, Southern minister. I understand your entire family is from Alabama?”
“We are,” Cecelia replied, turning her full attention back to Rachel.
“So you know all about those Southern roots?”
“And we’re very proud of them.”
“My point exactly. I have nothing against Rev. Bush, but I think that we don’t want to lose the family-feel of the ABC. We don’t want to become just another organization filled with members who do nothing.”
She pursed her lips as she glared at Rachel. “So is that what you think we are now?”
“Oh, no, no,” Rachel said, cleaning things up. “I think the organization is wonderful under Reverend King, and as a matter of fact, I just told Lester on the flight here that I wish Reverend King weren’t retiring. But if he does have to be replaced, Lester should be the one replacing him.”
Cecelia gave Rachel a fake smile, before saying, “Well, it’s been nice chatting with you, but I see some other people I must go mingle with. Enjoy the rest of the reception.”
Rachel watched as Cecelia walked off. This had not gone at all like she’d planned. She had to take a deep breath and get it together. Cecelia was going to be a hard nut to crack. And Rachel didn’t know how she’d do it, but she knew she couldn’t rest until she got Cecelia King on her side.
Chapter
NINE
The women filed in—two by two, three by three, a few came alone—and each time Jasmine greeted another first lady, she breathed a little easier.
It looked like she was actually going to pull this off. Not that she had any doubts that she would—well, not until last night, after the disaster created by Rachel’s clumsy crumb-snatcher. Jasmine still couldn’t believe how those hillbillies had ruined Jacqueline’s dress. She had almost gone off on Rachel and her daughter. Did that Kmart blue-light-special chick have any idea what her daughter had done?
But then, why would she ask herself a question like that? Rachel didn’t know a thing about quality. That was apparent not only from the way she dressed, but also by the way her children behaved. Video games, dumping punch on other children … though Jasmine couldn’t really blame Rachel’s offspring for having no home training. Low class begat no class.
But even though she’d had to take Jacqueline upstairs and calm her down, Jasmine’s plan had moved forward.
This plan had begun to formulate in her mind right after Cecelia had escorted her and Hosea to the penthouse suite yesterday. Jasmine had called Mae Frances up to the room, and while Hosea napped, the two schemed.
“We need to make that Adams woman look totally inept,” Mae Frances had said.
“That’s not going to be too hard.” Jasmine told Mae Frances about her suspicions that Rachel was behind the limousine and hotel fiasco. “But do you see how it backfired on her? She needs to recognize that she is nothing nothing more than a tire-slashing, key-a-car, turn-off-utilities kind of trick. She is not even ready for me, and besides that, she can’t do anything to block the blessings that God has for me and Hosea.”
Mae Frances grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I have a big plan for her … a big fall. But from the look on your face, I can tell that you have a plan, too. What are you thinking?”
“We don’t have much time, but …” That’s when Jasmine had revealed the first phase of the plan.
As Mae Frances’s mouth opened wide, her eyes filled with pride. “I’ve taught you well, Jasmine Larson. This is brilliant. And I have a way to make it even better.”
In the twenty hours that had passed since then, Jasmine and Mae Frances had plotted. While Jasmine worked the first ladies at the welcome reception, Mae Frances had done the behind-the-scenes planning.
Now Jasmine stood in the room next to the banquet hall where the first ladies’ luncheon would be held in just two hours.
“Welcome,” Jasmine said, holding her smile whil
e sneaking a glance at her watch. She couldn’t show her impatience with this last group of stragglers.
“Excuse me, Lady Jasmine?”
Jasmine turned to the voice and her smile went right away. “I just wanted to thank you for inviting me to this luncheon,” Reverend Penn’s wife said.
“I’m glad to have you here, Coco,” Jasmine said stiffly, though she meant what she’d said. She fully subscribed to the keep-your-enemies-close theory. And when she wasn’t with Hosea, she wanted to make sure that Coco Penn wasn’t near him, either.
Following the last of the first ladies into the ballroom, Jasmine scanned the space and found Mae Frances barking orders to the waiters who’d been assigned to them at the last minute. And in the center of the room, Cecilia King held court, surrounded by several first ladies who were as stylish as she was—though none of them could hold a candle to the red Chanel suit that Jasmine wore.
“Showtime!” Jasmine whispered to herself.
She strutted toward the center, knowing that females were watching her—which was a totally different dynamic from the men. She had to stroll with confidence, but lose the sexiness. She had to balance it all with grace, with deference. It was a dance that didn’t come easy to Jasmine.
For years, Jasmine had never cared what any woman thought about her. After all, how could she when she was so busy stealing their men?
But being Hosea’s wife made her not only want to please him, but to be a proper first lady as well. She’d had to take a few lessons to make it happen, though. Her teacher? Mae Frances, of course.
“The key with women,” her friend had told her, “is to be admired by them. You cannot be threatening. They cannot feel less than you in any way, because by nature women are a jealous bunch.” Mae Frances had spoken as if she didn’t share their gender. “So lesson number one—when you meet a man and a woman together, greet the man, but then turn all of your attention to the woman.”
Dozens of lessons had followed; Jasmine had learned to make and keep eye contact and smile, even if a woman snarled. She still never trusted women, that was her life’s mantra. But she’d learned how to get women to trust her.
“Pardon me.” Jasmine stepped inside the small circle that surrounded Cecelia. “Mrs. King, I’m going to get started now, if that’s all right with you.”
The woman nodded her approval, as if she appreciated Jasmine’s deferential approach. Both of them knew that this was Jasmine’s event—she’d just come to Cecelia out of respect, another lesson she’d learned from Mae Frances.
“Excuse me, ladies.” Cecelia bowed out. Then to Jasmine she said, “Okay, let’s begin.” For a second, she turned away from Jasmine and scanned the room. “Where is … what’s her name again? The Adams lady?”
“Oh, yes, Rachel,” Jasmine said, as if she had the greatest regard for her enemy. “I don’t know; we invited her, of course, but …” She lowered her voice. “Well … you know.”
Cecelia smiled. “Yes, I do.” Then, “This is your program, but would you mind if I introduced you?”
This was a coup that wasn’t expected. Just an introduction by Cecelia would feel like an endorsement.
“Oh, my goodness. Would you?”
Gently, Cecelia took her hand and guided Jasmine along the perimeter of the room, then up the portable steps that led to the temporary stage brought in for this reception.
For a moment, the two stood side by side, watching the first ladies in their Sunday-best suits meet and greet, chat and chuckle. The women sipped on sparkling cider that Mae Frances had ordered in every flavor, and they sampled the chef’s special hors d’oeuvres. Jasmine smiled—she knew she could trust Mae Frances to create one of this week’s finest events.
When Jasmine saw Mae Frances stick her thumb in the air, she knew that she and Cecelia made quite a picture.
“Ladies,” Cecelia began. She didn’t even use the microphone that was set up at the podium, yet all the chatter and laughter faded away.
This is power, Jasmine thought. And she shuddered with anticipation of being passed the torch of that power in just a few days.
“Thank you for coming,” Cecelia continued, “to this … what shall I call it?” She turned to Jasmine. But she didn’t wait for an answer. Cecelia said, “Thank you for coming to this reception before the luncheon. It’s that simple, right?”
Jasmine frowned; she didn’t like the word “simple” used in any sentence that had anything to do with her. And what Cecelia had said didn’t sound funny at all. Still, the first ladies chuckled.
Cecelia said, “Isn’t this just lovely? I think we should all thank our host, Mrs. Jasmine Bush.”
Jasmine kept her gracious smile, bowed her head slightly, and held up her hands as if she felt like she didn’t deserve this attention.
“Before we begin, I just want to say, that whenever we gather together, we must praise the Lord!”
The women applauded and shouted their praises into the air.
Cecelia said, “For we must bless the Lord at all times; His praise must be continually in our mouths!”
The clapping continued until Cecelia held up her hands. “Thank you for praising the Lord with me, and now, let’s get to the second reason why we’re here. Ladies, please help me welcome perhaps the next first lady of the American Baptist Coalition—Mrs. Jasmine Bush.”
The ovation was polite, dainty, but filled with curiosity. The first ladies wanted to know what this was all about. Why had this reception been added to the program just last night?
“Thank you all so much for joining me here today,” Jasmine began. “I know it was last-minute, so I appreciate you giving me an hour out of your morning.”
Low murmurs told her that she was welcome.
“I’ll get straight to the point since we don’t have much time before the luncheon. I asked you to join me today because I wanted to introduce a program for the American Baptist Coalition that I think will not only benefit each of us, but will help every African American in this country.”
Jasmine paused. She had to take a deep breath before she continued with this part. “As you may know, a few years ago, my daughter Jacqueline was kidnapped—”
Gasps rose throughout the room, which startled Jasmine just a bit. She knew that this would come as a surprise to some, since Hosea had been added to the ballot just last week. So not many had had time to research the Bushes. Still, hadn’t any of them heard about the trial?
“Yes, kidnapped,” she repeated. “And …” She stopped. Could she really do this? Could she say it aloud. “And …” She stopped again. When Cecelia stepped to her side and took her hand, Jasmine whispered, “And raped.”
The sound of shock surged through the room.
“She was only four years old.” Jasmine’s voice trembled. “But you know what? God held her and kept her and finally brought her home!”
The women clapped, much louder now than they did before and praises rained down.
“Thank you, Jesus.”
“Amen!”
“Hallelujah!”
“Yes, Jacqueline came home to me, with the help of our church, our community, and our friends.” Jasmine paused as she glanced at Mae Frances. Once Jacqueline had been rescued two years ago, the two women had never spoken of those three weeks—until last night, when they were planning this. But they said few words about it, and Jasmine never asked Mae Frances if she was the reason why Jacqueline had been found. She didn’t have to ask, not really. Mae Frances—and her connections—had come through for her like they always had, this time in the ultimate way.
Jasmine cleared her throat of the emotions that came with those sad memories and kept on. “There was something, however, that stood out to me during that time. As you know, my husband pastors one of the largest churches in this country, and let’s be honest, because of that and because of his TV talk show, he is … a celebrity …”
“Yes,” many said, and nodded in agreement.
“But do you know
that after the first day, we were not able to get any media coverage?”
This time, the murmurs showed the women’s surprise.
“Of course, everyone was with us that first day, but we were not able to keep our daughter in the news. Now, I don’t believe in playing the race card. In fact, I abhor”—she’d chosen that word so carefully that she decided to repeat it—“I completely abhor people who throw race in our faces every chance they get.”
“That’s right.”
“But I cannot think of another reason why the daughter of a New York pastor was not worthy of at least local media coverage.”
The women stirred, now with discontent. Jasmine could feel their questions rising—what could be done?
“That’s why if I become first lady of the Coalition, the first thing I will work on—with your help, of course—is a national Child Find Program.”
Approval stirred through the crowd now.
“Our children cannot be invisible. Our children cannot go unnoticed. We must stand up for the little ones who have no voice.”
“Yes!” The women applauded again.
“I want to set up centers like the one our church put together for my daughter in as many communities as possible. We need to have the centers in place, so that when something happens to one of ours, we are prepared. This way, we will be able to go into action, and not reaction.”
“Yes!” the cheers came again.
“We need to be ready … to bring our children home!”
Applause.
“And, unlike many others who believe that abducted children only come in one color”—she paused so that the first ladies would catch her meaning—“we will take care of all children.”
“Amen,” and more cheers.
“And we will call these centers Jacqueline’s Hope, because with all of us standing together, we can make sure that our missing children share the same fate as Jacquie—we can make sure that they will be returned to their homes and their loving families.”
The shouts and the cheering were so loud that Jasmine had to wait for minutes to pass before she could speak again.
Sinners & Saints Page 7
