“So, find out any interesting tidbits about our unexpected guest at the birthday party the other night?” Jolie asked, lifting her straight, thick, biscuit-brown hair so she could lean back in her kitchen chair without trapping it.
Connie blew on her tea, then shook her bright gold hair. They’d both been curious about Nicole Archer. Something about that girl made a person sit up and take notice, something besides the wardrobe, which was even odder than those of the young women one saw on the streets these days.
“You know Marcus and his ministerial ethics,” Connie said. “All I could get out of him is that her mother and your mother-in-law were friends.”
“Were is the operative word,” Jolie divulged, absently rubbing her swollen belly. “Mrs. Archer died over three years ago. Cancer. Ovida was her Sunday School teacher at one time, and the two stayed close over the years. Now Ovida’s become sort of a surrogate mother for Nicole. Supposedly, Nicole’s father drinks a lot.”
Connie sipped from her cup and set it down again.
“I guess mothers-in-law don’t have the same ethical concerns as ministers.”
Jolie chuckled. Conversation turned to their plans for the upcoming weekend. Vince and Jolie planned to shop for the baby’s room. Connie and Kendal were taking their children to a popular pizza arcade for the birthday celebration of one of their young friends.
“We may not stay long,” Connie said. “It depends on how well Larissa does in that environment.”
Little Larissa still suffered the occasional meltdown when overstimulated, but her conduct had improved by leaps and bounds in the ten months since Connie and sweet, placid Russell had come into her life. Still, Connie and Kendal were careful to monitor her environment and coach her behavior. They made a good team and, Jolie had to admit, were excellent parents.
Jolie no longer grieved or resented the removal of her nephew from her care. The way she looked at it, everything was as it should be. As God had wanted it to be. She could be Russell’s aunt now without wishing she was still his de facto mom, and she again enjoyed the company and companionship of her sister and brother. Best of all, she and Vince were going to have their own child, who was even then turning somersaults inside her womb.
“Goodness, this boy’s going to be an athlete of some sort. He’s always in motion lately.”
It was no secret that the Cutlers were football fanatics, and Jolie knew that Vince was dreaming of sitting on the sidelines to watch his son play. Connie opened her mouth to comment, but just then the doorbell rang.
“I’ll go,” she said, slipping out of her chair and waving Jolie back down into hers.
“Can’t imagine who it is,” Jolie murmured, arching her back to relieve an ache in her spine.
It was probably someone wanting to clean her carpet or sell her a magazine subscription. While she waited for Connie to return, she decided that she’d have another cup of herbal tea and rose to move to the kettle cheerfully steaming on the stovetop.
The tea bag was steeping when Connie appeared on the other side of the bar that separated the den from the kitchen. She was not alone.
“Do you happen to know where Ovida is now?” Connie asked, glancing meaningfully at the young woman at her side. “Nicole is looking for her.”
Jolie shook her head. “I think she was going over to Sharon’s, but that was hours ago.” Sharon was the oldest of Vince’s four sisters.
Nicole frowned. “I went by there,” she said, “but no one was at home.”
Jolie considered. “Obviously they went somewhere. That woman really ought to get a cell phone.” She snapped her fingers. “Sharon’s got one. Why don’t I give her a call?”
Nicole brightened visibly.
“Would you mind? I don’t usually work on Friday afternoons, but I’ve been called in to cover for another server, and I really need someone to pick up my little brother from school.”
Jolie went to the telephone and dialed Sharon’s number, but the cell went straight to voice mail. She left a brief message and hung up before turning back to Nicole.
“Sorry,” she said, leaning against the counter. “Sharon isn’t answering. She probably forgot to turn the phone on.”
Nicole sighed and shifted her weight, one hip sliding out. Jolie glanced at Connie, who lifted her eyebrows, then studied the girl.
Girl wasn’t exactly the right word. She was young, yes, and a little quirky with her dark hair twisted up on top of her head and sticking out in all directions. Fat, sleek tendrils of it hung down beside her face, which was really very pretty, no thanks to artifice.
Jolie didn’t much like to wear makeup herself and considered that it would have been a crime to cover up Nicole’s flawless ivory complexion. Nicole was really very striking, Jolie decided, despite the slender, fraying cropped jeans that she wore with clashing stripes.
Her oversize, rainbow-hued sweater was striped vertically in wide bands of vivid color, but the black-and-white stripes of the turtleneck that she wore beneath it ran horizontally, while her socks sported a diagonal pattern of yellow-and-orange bands.
It was enough to make an innocent observer dizzy.
Jolie cleared her throat and concentrated on Nicole’s pretty eyes. They were almost leonine in their shape and size, and the slight tilt at the outer edges gave her an exotic air. It was the frankness in those warm brown eyes that most appealed to Jolie, however. They seemed to speak volumes, and one thing came through loud and clear.
This girl was worried about her brother.
“I could do it,” Jolie said impulsively.
“Oh, Jo,” Connie put in quickly, “you don’t need to go out.” She turned to Nicole. “I’ll do it. Just tell me where his school is, and I’ll drive by on my way home, pick him up and drop him off at your house.”
Nicole made a face. “Actually, I don’t want him dropped off. I—I was hoping Ovida would take him home with her until I get off work. I mean, he’s thirteen, he hardly needs babysitting, but…well, he spends a lot of time alone.”
Jolie looked at Connie and saw the same conclusion in her gaze. Nicole didn’t want her brother to go home because their father was drinking.
“Do you think,” Nicole began hesitantly, “that your brother, Marcus, might…?”
“That’s brilliant!” Jolie exclaimed. “Why don’t we give him a call?”
Nicole lifted a shoulder, already backing away. “Maybe I’ll just drop by the church on my way to work.”
“Oh.” Again Jolie traded glances with her sister, her instincts perking up. “That’ll work. And if for some reason he can’t help you, just ask him to give one of us a call.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” Nicole said, practically out of the room.
Jolie followed, trying to see her unexpected guest out.
