Chapter 16
HOW ARE THINGS in the office?” Kenya waited for Dedra to answer and caught the bouncy ball she had just thrown against the wall.
That made bounce number one hundred and ten.
Sure, these were balls that Solomon had given her for at-home ankle exercises, but they also made for helpful ways to survive boredom.
At least until her daddy got back home. Her sister had picked her up and dropped her off at their parents’ house for a Friday evening dinner and movie.
It was one week since Evelyn’s ultimatum and at least one more week and some change for Solomon to get her in touch with Robert Bluestone. She could do it on her own, but going through Solomon gave her more leverage.
“Work is not the same without you.”
“That’s good to hear.” In one way it was, but then again, her not being there meant that there were projects she couldn’t finish fleshing out, people she couldn’t talk to, concepts she couldn’t dream up. A promotion that was slipping farther and farther away.
“I’m sure no one is missing a beat without me.”
Dedra paused before answering. “No, not at all, but . . .”
“Don’t hold anything back. I need to live violently through you.”
“I think you mean vicariously.”
Kenya groaned and tossed the ball again. Number one hundred and eleven. “Yes, that.”
“Well, maybe this doesn’t matter, but you know how you tried to squeeze in smaller events here and there? Not only are they not taking on clients with less than a five-thousand-dollar budget, but they are also scrapping some of the ones that were already on the calendar to meet with.”
“But,” Kenya sputtered, “I booked those.”
“I know.” Dedra’s tone simmered with frustration. But there was only so much she could do in her role.
“How can they do that without me there?”
“I think that’s why. Because you’re not here, and they conflict with other events on Vance and Evelyn’s schedule.”
Kenya eased her leg to the floor and sat up from her reclined position.
“But these are months away, and what about the event staff that we’ll hire? I can handle point remotely, and they can take care of the details. They weren’t huge amounts, but those aren’t commissions I wanted to lose either. Especially for you.”
“Evelyn wanted you to rest.” Dedra sighed. “Maybe it’s for the good. The money will work out. Evelyn said it may be more ideal for other smaller agencies to be able to take on those smaller events.”
“It’s not just about money, Dedra, it’s about the role we play in our local community. We are a unique boutique event-management company. We shouldn’t outsource what we have built over this time.”
“You know I agree with you, it’s just—”
Kenya heard the door open and close. Her father’s singing filtered in from the foyer. “Sorry, Dedra, let me let you go. My dad is here.”
“Okay, we’ll talk again soon.”
As soon as she hung up, her father walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch.
“I’m glad to see you finally join us.”
Kenya set the phone on the side table and scooted next to him. She rolled her eyes in exaggerated annoyance before leaning toward him in an embrace.
“I couldn’t just run over, Daddy.”
She settled herself in his arms, relishing his scent and his embrace. Even though she didn’t live far, it was always good to be home.
“If I know you like I think I do, no ankle is gonna stop you from doing exactly what you want.”
He wasn’t wrong. But this ankle had proven to be a more formidable foe than expected.
“Yep, like running circles around you.”
Her dad chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Just keep that same energy when we get to the 5K in a few weeks.
” Her circled date. She had somehow convinced most of her family to join her for this year’s Family Fun Run.
Maybe it was her pride, but she had been so excited about getting hired to partner with the event operations coordinator to pull this year’s race together.
Getting to engage her competitive side and run through beautiful downtown Huntsville was an added bonus.
But with her injury and canceled pending pitches laying waste to all her plans, she didn’t know how she was going to deal with the loss of not being able to compete.
She shrugged. She wanted to respond with the energy he assumed she had, but what if she didn’t recover by then?
It was bad enough not being able to run three times a week like she was used to.
That meant no good preparation for the race and none of the rhythms she needed to keep her flailing thoughts in check.
Daddy looked at her with the same expression he’d given when she was younger and had done something that especially annoyed her mom.
She’d be bouncing all around the house like a top spinning out of control, and her dad would look at her and smile—probably because he saw a bit of himself—until she crashed physically, and then he’d be there to bandage up the wound and give her some tips for the next time.
Too bad physical crashes were sometimes easier to deal with than emotional ones.
“Anything new with you, Daddy? Got any travel coming up?”
He tilted his head, not fooled by her attempt to change the subject. “Not too much. Either way, not anything I will tell you.”
“You sure you’re just a normal engineer and not in the CIA?” It was their inside joke, their back-and-forth, but even that familiar question came out of her mouth lacking luster.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and tucked her to his side. She breathed deep, feeling the rumble of his chest against her arm. “Anything new with you, baby girl, besides your wedding souvenir? Doing okay being out of work?”
Kenya shrugged. “Just trying to keep focus on the big rock, all the other rocks, and the sand around them.”
He eyed her like she’d just grown a third ear. “Are we talking about the rock of Jesus? Then yes, I would say that’s a very good place to start.”
She chuckled. “It was some good advice from a friend to not rush past this process. But it’s so hard, Daddy. You know me. I need to be on the move. I’m so bored. Nothing makes sense standing still.”
“There are a lot of chaotic moments where I remember you being as cool as a cucumber.” He leaned his head against hers. “And then when it was too quiet, you were like a whirlwind.”
Kenya groaned, burying her face in her daddy’s arm.
“I work better when things seem jumbled up and tangled.” She sat up and stretched her arm out.
“Then my thoughts become like an arrow, and I can see the way forward. I can see solutions and all the creative answers that my clients need for their events to be what they want them to be. But now I feel so confused.”
She lowered her arm. “I know it’s only been a couple weeks, but I don’t like feeling like this.”
Her dad nodded, stroking his beard. “It’s the question of who you are without what you do.
God has given all of us certain gifts and things to steward.
I admit you have been our mysterious wonder, at times hard to figure out and pin down.
But that’s what makes you you. If we trust that God is a good Father, multiple, infinite times more than the good father you’re sitting next to—”
She giggled.
“Then I know that he’s going to take even this pause of yours and show you something good, baby girl.” He slid his arm back around her shoulders and squeezed tight.
She was over thirty, but her daddy made her feel like a little girl again in all the best ways. Safe. Protected. Cherished. Known.
“Now, let’s get a start on your practice for that race coming up.
” He stood, helped her up, and then set his legs as if he was at the beginning of a race.
“How about we see who will be the first to make it to the kitchen and that peach pie your mama’s been hiding?
” Before she could open her mouth, he rushed down the hall, leaving her laughing and limping behind him.
When she got there, he had already pulled out the pie dish.
“Now, Daddy, you know you are risking Mama’s wrath by slicing that pie before dinner.”
“And you know your mama never does anything on time in this house. By the time we finish dinner and get dessert, I’m gonna be half asleep.”
“You are a liar, Albert Monroe Stewart.”
Kenya shuddered at the sound of her mother’s voice coming behind her. Her father’s eyes rounded as he slowly pushed the silverware drawer closed. No fork would be dug into that pie for the moment.
“Why are y’all over here acting all secretive?” Mama set her grocery bags down on the counter. “Now, Albert, you know you’re wrong for that. Not to mention what your doctor said at the last appointment.”
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “You didn’t have to go and bring up all of that, Justine.” Daddy shook his head and started pulling items out of a grocery bag. “And I thought you were just gonna get the relish for the potato salad. Yet here I am pulling out everything but the relish.”
Her mom shot him a warning look before turning her attention to her daughter. “How you feeling?”
Kenya scooted onto the barstool, pie crisis averted. “Better now that I’m sitting here with y’all.”
“When do you go back to work?” Mama asked.
“Monday, September fifteenth, I guess.”
“Okay, but . . . why do you sound so unsure?”
“I’m just hoping I’m not too late.”
“Too late for what? It’s not abnormal to take a few weeks off, especially once something like this happens. You’re going to go in and continue doing an amazing job.”
“But things move fast in my business. What I can’t do now, someone else has to take over. Events don’t stop just because of my ankle.”
“Well, if something does change drastically, maybe it’s time to reconsider your career path.”
Those were not the words she wanted to hear. And she didn’t miss the way her daddy glanced at her mama. As if he didn’t agree with what she said, or worse yet—he did, and she’d said too much.
Unfortunately, there was no career path to reconsider. If she wasn’t in the event industry, and in line to receive a high-level role like creative director, who was she?