and resiliency of her evocative female ancestors, self-respect stirred within her spirit. She was proud of who she was. Proud of her heritage. Proud of the legacy of her people. And proud of where she had come from.
Ebony turned away from the picture. Clad in nothing but a black silk robe and slippers, she returned to the main floor to get a drink. En route to the kitchen, she passed the family room, which housed a fireplace which she had yet to use—comfy chairs and couches and a fifty-inch plasma screen TV. Ebony entered the kitchen and after opening the window above the sink, poured herself a drink. Ceramic tile counters, stainless steel appliances and a center table that seated eight made it a chef’s paradise. Ebony didn’t cook, so the less time she spent in the kitchen, the better off she was.
Back in her bedroom, sipping peach-flavored iced tea, Ebony selected CD number three on her stereo. Jill Scott’s hypnotic voice filled the room, offering a sweet escape. Closing her eyes, she sang along. She bobbed her head fluently, feelings of tranquility washing over her. But Ebony’s peace didn’t last long. The telephone interrupted her thoughts and yanked her back into the here and now.
“Hi, suga. Did you just get home?” Not bothering to wait for a response, Mae continued. “I called your office and that precious little receptionist of yours told me you were gone.”
“I had a nail appointment.”
“Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself, honey.”
“I’m tired,” Ebony replied. “Wednesdays are typically hectic days and today was no exception. I was about to step into the tub for a soak when you called. Everything all right?”
Mae coughed. “Just fighting off this flu bug that’s been going around.”
“Do you need me to bring you anything?” Ebony loved aunt Mae with all her heart and she would do anything to put a smile on her face. When her husband died from heart failure, Mae had packed up her load and moved to Minneapolis to be closer to her brother and his family. Out of respect for her husband, she had never remarried or had children of her own. But the seventy-four-year-old woman would tell anyone who listened that her feisty niece was the daughter she had always wanted. Ebony had quickly grown attached to her father’s sister. And when her parents had died in a horrific car accident at the hands of a drunk driver, it had been aunt Mae who nursed her through the ordeal and welcomed her into her home.
“I’m all right, suga. I don’t need you to bring me anything, but I do need a small favor.” She paused, then added, “That is, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind, Auntie. What is it?”
“I hate to have to bother you,” she began, her voice growing faint, “but I promised to cook tonight for the Changing Lives Through Meals program at Jubilee.”
“What are you asking me to do, aunt Mae? You know I can’t cook.”
“No, no, chile. Don’t be silly.” The thought of Ebony in the kitchen, wearing an apron and all, made her laugh. Her shoulders juddered uncontrollably. Once her chuckles subsided, she continued. “I prepared the food this afternoon, suga. Everything is ready to go. All I need for you to do is pick it up and run it over to the church for me.”
Ebony didn’t want to go back outside. It was hot enough out there to cause a serious case of heatstroke. And tonight was the first time in months she had managed to leave the office at a decent hour. There were only two things on her agenda for the evening: peace and quiet. The season finale of CSI Miami was on at eight o’clock and Ebony had been looking forward to it all week. No, there was no room on her schedule to drive halfway across the city to deliver food.
As if she could hear the deliberations going on in her niece’s mind, Mae injected her voice with cheer. “It’s for a good cause, Ebony, and it won’t take more than an hour if you leave the house right now. All you have to do is give the food to Brother Xavier, and then you can be on your merry little way.”
Ebony checked the time. Her aunt’s town house was a ten-minute drive, the church twenty. If she took a quick shower instead of a lengthy bath, she could drop the food off at the church and make it back home before the theme music for CSI started. Ebony didn’t want to disappoint her aunt, and on the upside, stopping by the church would give her another crack at Xavier. She had met some stuffy, uptight men before, but no one had ever turned her down twice. Who knows, she thought, protecting her hair with a plastic shower cap, maybe this is one of those blessings in disguise aunt Mae is always talking about. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Chapter 4
Xavier masked his disappointment with a spurious smile. Where is everybody? he wondered hopelessly. Three elderly women and their stern-faced husbands were seated on orange chairs, getting acquainted. Xavier had been counting on twenty volunteers for the program; he’d be lucky if he ended up with ten. He checked his watch and was surprised to see that it was minutes to seven.
At the close of the banquet, scores of people, both young and old, had surrounded him to hear more about the Changing Lives Through Meals program. They praised what the church was doing, and seemed eager to get involved. Where are those people now? Xavier didn’t know why he was so upset; this happened every year. People gave lip service to helping out and giving back to the community, but when it came time for them to step up, they fell back.
Creak.
Xavier’s head snapped up. Creak. Creak. Creak. Someone was trying to open the door. Another volunteer! Xavier jumped to his feet, flew down the hall at the speed of light and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the foyer in seconds. But when he saw who was at the door, he came to an abrupt halt. What is she doing here? He was desperate for volunteers, but not that desperate. His brief conversation at the banquet with the overtly sexual woman was still fresh in his mind. Xavier didn’t allow his thoughts to linger on the past; there was no way of knowing where they would take him and he was in the house of the Lord. Scratching the side of his face, he tried to remember her name. He would feel bad if he had to ask her her name, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember. Xavier concentrated for a few seconds. She was named after a color. That much he knew for sure.
Blue? Naw, that’s stupid. Nobody names their daughter Blue!
Raven? No.
Violet? Definitely not.
Xavier moved forward. The poor woman was wrestling with two gargantuan black pots, several plastic bags bearing the Ralph’s Gorcery logo were swinging from her wrists, and here he was standing here watching her like a mannequin.
“Looks like you could use some help,” he noted, snapping out of his musings and relieving her of the pots.
Massaging the tenderness out of her wrists, she smiled her thanks.
After a brief pause, Xavier greeted her warmly. “It’s nice seeing you again.”
Ebony’s nose wrinkled. “It’s nice seeing me again?” she repeated, the doubtful look on her face carried into her tone. “Funny, I got the distinct impression you didn’t like me.”
Xavier opened his mouth to dispute her claim but the words didn’t come. She was right; he didn’t like her. The collar on his striped dress shirt and the accompanying tie were suddenly stifling. Her eyes rolled over his face and he wisely looked away.
Oblivious to his discomfort, Ebony apologized for being late. “I’ve been driving around
