Chapter Seven
Jacob
That’s what I get for getting sucked into Amariah’s aura.
On my way to Lucille’s Sewing and Accessories, I silently scolded myself for softening to her whims. At one point in my life, she was my best friend; undoubtedly the best thing that had ever happened to me.
When I met her, my world tilted on its axis and never quite stopped spinning.
Everything about her—her laughter, her stubbornness, her endless curiosity—had a gravitational pull.
Hearing her voice on the phone every morning used to be enough to charge me for the day.
Her smile could warm me through the coldest winters in Skye Ridge.
Just seeing her had a way of steadying my pulse, no matter what kind of trouble I was in, whether it be disappointing grades, punishment from my parents, or pre-game nerves. Amariah was the cure for everything.
Then life…well, lifed.
Now, the girl who was once my confidante and held the key to my heart was gone.
I’d admired her ambition and never faulted her for chasing her dreams. I had my own, after all.
But what I hadn’t expected was how distance and success would turn her into someone I hardly recognized.
The warmth she carried so effortlessly as a girl seemed replaced by cool indifference.
She was no longer the same person I grew up with, got into trouble with, or dreamed beside.
Over time, my heart adjusted by hardening.
Since her return, I’d done my best to keep things professional, to remind myself that childhood Amariah wasn’t the same woman standing in front of me now.
But lately, my guard had started to slip.
Seeing her care for her dad and working late nights to keep the store afloat, it chipped away at the ice I’d built.
I wanted to believe she cared about more than numbers.
Then she started talking about revenue and strategy, and I realized I was wrong. I should’ve known better.
If Bryce weren’t one of my best friends, I might’ve snapped at his wife for talking to Amariah about my business.
I knew Janelle meant no harm, but the last person I wanted discussing my livelihood was Amariah Luke.
Her only focus was on the bottom line, and now she’d managed to turn a simple lunch into a strategy session.
She didn’t even ask how my business was doing before trying to fold it into her plans.
I couldn’t get upset because that lapse in judgment was on me.
I should’ve kept things as they were—civil but distant.
The door swooshed open as I stepped inside, silencing the laughter I’d heard before entering.
Ms. Lucille looked up first, her grin wide enough to show off her new dentures. “Well, look what the wind blew in,” she said, glancing over at my mother. “Rachel, that son of yours gets more handsome every day. When are you gonna bring home a wife, or are you finally ready to let me shoot my shot?”
Shaking my head, I made my way to my mother, setting my leftovers on the display case before pulling her into a hug. “Hey, Mama.”
“Hey, baby.” She pointed a finger toward Lucille. “And I told you to stop getting fresh with my child.”
Turning to Ms. Lucille, I bent down and kissed her on the crown of her silver hair.
In return, she laughed, looping her arm through mine.
“Oh, please, Rachel.” She waved a playful, dismissive hand at my mother.
“How do the young folks say it? I’m a cougar.
Ain’t nothing wrong with a little cougar love. ”
“More like a saber-tooth—old and extinct,” my mama teased.
My mama’s joke made all of us burst out laughing, including Ms. Bettye and Ms. Corinne, our city’s two oldest living residents at the lively ages of ninety-three and ninety-four, respectively.
They had been best friends for eighty-three years, and both of their husbands had passed away nearly ten years ago, within a year of each other.
They now lived together at an assisted living facility and would probably outlive everyone in Skye Ridge.
“See, look at you, Rachel. Sent poor Ms. Bettye into a coughing spell,” Ms. Lucille teased.
Ms. Bettye coughed into a napkin before discarding it and dabbed the tears in the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. “Both of you are trying to send me to glory knowing I ain’t ready yet.”
“You’re not ready to see Cecil?” Ms. Lucille asked, feigning disbelief.
She waved her off, rolling her eyes. “Child, I’m living my best life, and he ain’t gon’ stress me out in heaven before I’m ready. Have me showing out in my mansion, not in front of my Jesus.”
“Ms. Bettye!” Ms. Lucille and my mama screeched, clutching their imaginary pearls.
Ms. Corinne egged her on, high-fiving her best friend as I stood there hiding my chuckles behind my clenched fist, stunned by how these old ladies were talking. And I thought Ms. Lucille was a handful.
Leaning over, I whispered in my mama’s ear, “So this is what I have to look forward to in the next thirty years, huh?”
Snickering, my mother swatted my arm. “And so what if you do?”
I raised my hands to show there wasn’t a problem. “Live your best life then, Mrs. Rachel.”
My mama threw her hands up in the air, waving them like she just didn’t care, and Ms. Lucille and I hyped her up. When she started doing a body roll, that’s when I tapped out.
“Nah, too far.” I made a slicing motion across my neck with my hand, my nose turned up as I watched her antics.
She clicked her tongue, pursing her lips. “Lucille, let me buy this fabric and get out of here. My son is killing our vibe.”
A frown spread across my face as I replayed what she’d just said in my mind while they walked to the register. Did she quote Kendrick Lamar? These women were wildin’ like the young girls at a Sexy Redd concert.
As Mama paid for the crimson-and-cream fabric and wintergreen ribbon, I grabbed my bag and waited near the door.
We said our goodbyes, and I held it open as she stepped into the crisp air.
She zipped her jacket tighter and shivered as I led her to her car, opened the driver’s side door for her, and then hopped in on the passenger’s side.
“Where’s your truck?”
“At Luke’s.”
“Well, I’m heading home to drop off my bags from shopping first, then I’ll take you back to the store,” she announced, eyeing my leftovers. “I see you’ve been to Sister Johnson’s. I hope that to-go tray is for me.”
I paused from buckling my seatbelt, and she kissed her teeth.
“Mmm-hmm. See how you do your mama.”
“My bad, Mama. I would have ordered you some food, but I hadn’t planned on walking to Ms. Lucille’s. I was supposed to head back to the store.”
Her brows drew together as it suddenly dawned on her. “Wait. I thought maybe Bryce or Koby dropped you off. You walked to the restaurant and then here—in this cold?”
I propped my elbow on the armrest, dropped my head into my hand, and rubbed my forehead, trying to clear my frustrated thoughts. “No. I rode with Amariah to the restaurant and then walked to Ms. Lucille’s to see you.”
My mother paused at the stop sign with surprise dancing in her eyes. “You went out to lunch with Amariah?”
“Unfortunately.” My answer came out bitter through gritted teeth.
My mother nodded her head. “I see. That’s why you showed up, busting into my girl time at Lucille’s. I take it lunch didn’t go too well.”
Drumming my fingers along the armrest, I admitted, “It started out fine. I mean, honestly, the entire lunch wasn’t bad. It’s just…” I let my voice trail off, not really wanting to dive into my feelings with my mother.
She reached over and patted my hand. “You know you can’t keep blaming Amariah. You’ve been bottled up about this for almost twenty years, and I think you owe it to yourself and to her to have the conversation.”
“It’s difficult to do that when she is clearly not the same person she used to be.”
My mother scoffed. “Who the hell is, Jacob? People change. Sometimes, as often as we change underwear. It’s called growth, and what you need to practice is called grace, son.”
“And that’s why I invited her to eat lunch.
” My aggravation spilled out like a tidal wave as I massaged my forehead again.
“I thought she was coming around since she’s been working hard to boost the store’s sales and help her father, but then she started in on me about adding my helmet line to the store for revenue, and it rubbed me the wrong way. ”
Mama turned onto our street, sunlight flickering through the trees.
This was always my favorite part of the neighborhood as a kid.
The canopy of branches arching over the road made it look like something from a movie.
Corny, I know, but before my father was hired as the head plant supervisor for Skye Ridge Railways, we lived in a tiny apartment in the south with views only of graffiti-covered brick walls.
Those memories kept me grounded. The other reason I was grounded was that’s the kind of man Rodney and Rachel Gold raised me to be.
Now, in my mid-thirties, I’d learned to appreciate the simple things about my life in Skye Ridge.
As my mother pulled into her driveway, I caught her facial expression out of my peripheral vision. “What’s that look for? And don’t deny it. You’ve been my mama all my life. I know when you have a…look.”
She turned off the ignition and faced me, taking my hand in hers.
“Son, do you think she was being off-putting, or is that just how you chose to interpret it? Her father’s health is declining, and so is his business.
She doesn’t want to lose him and his store at the same time.
Can you blame her for trying to find ways to protect his legacy financially?
Maybe the way she presented it wasn’t ideal, but why not consider the position she’s in?
I’m not telling you to jump into business with her, but I am asking you to try to be more understanding.
” She raised her hand to my face and turned my chin toward her.
“And part of that starts with talking to her about what’s been on your mind and in your heart all these years. ”
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.
I understood what my mother meant, and deep down, I knew she was right.
It was hard to open up to Amariah, though.
Opening up meant being vulnerable to the one person who’d hurt me the most, and I didn’t trust her with those parts of me anymore.
If we were going to work and coexist together, though, we may have to reopen old wounds…
or stop pretending they’d ever healed in the first place.