Chapter 7
Phil turned onto the winding road that led to Mossy Oaks Care Facility, traveling under the canopy of moss-laden oak trees that shaded the drive.
She rounded a curve, and the yellow-and-white French Chateau-style building came into view.
It looked more like a resort hotel than a twenty-four-seven care facility for dementia and Alzheimer’s patients.
Phil signed in at the front desk, taking a couple of minutes to chat with Evelyn, the receptionist who made her mother homemade praline candies at least once a month.
Phil was completely indebted to this staff.
Just thinking about the care they bestowed upon her mother made her throat tighten with gratitude.
When she reached her mother’s room, Phil found her staring out the window at the grounds below.
“Mom?” she called.
Her mother turned. Sabina Phillips looked at least five years younger than her sixty-two years. She smiled, and hope blossomed within Phil’s chest.
“Hello, Agatha,” her mother returned.
Phil managed to suppress the defeated sigh that nearly escaped. She’d prayed for a rare glimpse of lucidity today.
“No, Mom, it’s me, Phylicia,” she said, walking over to her. She took her mother’s hands and led her to the small seating area, gesturing for her to take the seat that provided the same view of the grounds.
Phil often wondered what her mother saw when she looked out there. Did she recognize the people as the same residents she dined with on a daily basis, or were they strangers to her addled brain, as her own daughter had become?
Phil pulled in a deep breath and pasted on a smile. “How are things going today?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m good. I loved the strawberry preserves you made for me, Agatha. I can never get Mama’s recipe right.”
Phil contemplated pushing her mother to remember, but decided against it.
She didn’t have much time for this visit, and if she pushed too hard, her mother would likely become agitated.
She would be her aunt Agatha today, even though her mother’s younger sister had died of breast cancer over a decade ago, at the young age of forty-eight.
“Did you eat the preserves the way you usually like them?” Phil asked.
Her mother’s smile took on a mischievous edge as she nodded. “Over ice cream. I spent the entire week picking up after Percy. I figure I deserved a treat.”
“Nothing wrong with treating yourself,” Phil said. “And Percy appreciates you picking up after him.”
“Oh, I know he does.” The smile turned naughty. “He has his ways of showing me.”
Okay. They so were not going there. In these past few years, ever since her mother had begun to mistake her for Aunt Agatha, Phil had learned way more about her parents’ very healthy sex life than she ever wanted to know, especially since she wasn’t carrying on in the family tradition.
“You need to get rid of that no-good man of yours,” her mother said. “If Lewis doesn’t want to marry you after fifteen years, he never will, Agatha.”
“I know,” Phil answered. Her aunt’s longtime on-again/off-again boyfriend had made Kevin look like a prime catch.
One thing she could say about Kevin was that he had never cheated on her—as far as she knew, anyway.
Phil hesitated a moment before saying, “I have gotten rid of him.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m, uh, seeing someone else.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Really? Who is he? Someone I know?”
“He’s pretty new to town,” Phil answered. “But he’s very sweet. And I really like him. A lot.”
“Oh, Agatha. I’m so happy for you. Does he treat you well?”
“So far,” Phil said. “We’re going on our first date tonight.”
Sabina sprang from the chair. “So what are you doing here? You should be getting ready for your date.” She captured Phil’s wrist and pulled her up.
“You can come back later and tell me all about it. We’ll have time to chat.
Percy will be in his workshop all day, doing his best to turn my baby girl into a tomboy. ”
“Hey, she’s not that much of a tomboy,” Phil interjected.
“She’s just like her daddy. But Phylicia loves it, so I don’t mind.”
Phil’s heart became so full it hurt. “You were always so understanding,” she said, running a finger gently down her mother’s cheek. She pulled in a deep breath. “I’ll be back in a few days. We’ll have some of that ice cream.”
“Okay, Aggie,” Sabina said. “You have a good time tonight.”
Phil kissed her mother’s soft cheek. “I love you, Mom,” she whispered.
Despite ordering herself not to cry, her cheeks were soaked by the time she backed her truck out of the parking space.
“Why even bother with a bra?”
Phil twisted around, her hand still in her underwear drawer. “What’s that supposed to mean? Just because I don’t have giant pregnant-woman boobs, that doesn’t mean my girls can just go free.”
Pulling a tissue from the box she’d brought with her, Mya blew her nose with one hand and pointed at Phil with the other. “Jamal would appreciate your girls a lot more if they were not bound.”
“Are you taking something for that cold?” Phil asked, ignoring her friend’s base, although probably true, statement.
“Can’t.” Mya pointed to the beach ball she seemed to be hiding underneath her stylish running suit. She adjusted the pillows stacked up against the headboard, then grabbed the potato chip bag and stuffed a chip in her mouth. “Do you know where he’s taking you to eat?”
“I’m not sure.” Phil exchanged the light gray slacks she’d taken out for a pair of dark blue jeans. “I told him I was in the mood for seafood.”
“Oh, that sounds good,” Mya said, moaning. “Maybe he’ll take you to Commander’s Palace, or Galatoire’s.”
“No way,” Phil said.
“You wanna bet?” Mya asked. “Jamal doesn’t do things halfway. He’s loaded. And when I say loaded, I mean loaded.”
“I don’t care,” Phil said. “First of all, it’s a first date. It would be just plain rude to accept some fancy dinner. And secondly, he’s currently my employer.”
“Not tonight,” Mya said.
“And thirdly,” Phil said over her, “I don’t want him thinking that he can get payment in another form in return for an expensive meal.”
“Must I remind you that getting a little action down there would not be a bad thing for you? Unfortunately, Jamal isn’t the kind of guy who’d take advantage of you. He’s one of the good ones.”
Phil looked up and caught Mya’s eyes in the mirror. “I think so too,” she said. She let out an exasperated breath and plopped down on the bed. “I really like him, Mya.”
“Aw, honey, that’s a good thing,” Mya said, rubbing Phil’s back. “Why do you look as if you lost your favorite toy?”
Phil drew comfort from the concern she heard in her best friend’s voice. How many times had this scenario played out between them when they were teenagers? Mya trying to ease Phil’s worries over some boy.
“I just don’t want to get hurt,” she finally admitted.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mya tossed the bag of chips onto the bed and scooted over to her side. She wrapped her arms around Phil’s shoulders and gave her a sisterly squeeze. “If I ever meet that Kevin person, I will kick his ass.”
Phil snorted a laugh. “You’d have to get in line.”
“Forget about him.” Mya brushed a wayward curl from her brow. “Tonight is about starting over, and Jamal is an excellent person to start with.”
“God, I hope you’re right.” Phil sighed.
“He is. Just give him a chance.”
Giving Mya another hug, Phil got up from the bed and stepped into her jeans.
She pulled on a silky halter top with a ribbon of sequins that sat just below her breasts.
It wasn’t her usual style, and completely wrong for October, but it was unseasonably warm this year and would probably be even warmer in the jazz club.
She slipped into a pair of super-high heels—an impulse buy—and turned when Mya let out a high-pitched whistle.
“I cannot wait to see Jamal’s face when he picks you up.”
“What’s the big deal?” Phil asked.
“You! Look at you! You look like you belong on a damn runway. Tight jeans, a sexy top, and the fiercest fuck me heels I’ve ever seen.” Mya pointed an accusing finger at her. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Phylicia Phillips. You are trying to drive that man out of his mind.”
“No, I am not,” Phil protested, turning to the cheval mirror that had been in her family for generations. She looked over her shoulder at Mya and admitted, “Well, maybe a little.”
“I know you!” Mya laughed so hard she started to cough.
Phil ran over to her and patted her back. “Take it easy, will you? Corey’s not going to murder me for letting his pregnant wife die on my watch.”
She returned to the mirror to touch up her hair and makeup. A few minutes later, the doorbell chimed, and her stomach did a double somersault.
“Ooh, I’ll get it,” Mya said, mimicking a crab as she made a valiant effort to climb off the bed.
Phil stopped her. “He’ll think no one’s home if he has to wait for you to get to the door.” She was embarrassed at the way she nearly raced to the front door, then colossally disappointed when she opened it to find Corey standing on the other side.
“Wow.” His eyes ballooned as he looked her up and down. “Who knew that was hiding under those coveralls?”
Phil gave him a playful slap on the arm. Whether it was payback for his gibe, or because he wasn’t Jamal, she hadn’t decided yet. The jitters tingling along her skin in anticipation of his arrival were completely ridiculous. She’d just seen the man a few hours ago.
“Where’s my wife?” Corey asked. “She eat all your food yet?”
“I’ve still got a few grapes and some yogurt left,” Phil answered, gesturing for Corey to follow her to the bedroom.
“Hey, you,” Mya greeted him, patting the bed next to her.
Corey stopped just outside the door and shook his head. “I’m not coming in there. Too much estrogen.”
“Coward,” Mya and Phil said at the same time.
The doorbell rang again, and Phil literally jumped. So did her heart. Then it started racing triple time.