Chapter 18
AFTER KENYA SETTLED into a chair in the physical therapy office the next day, Solomon approached and handed her an iced coffee. It was a welcome treat after an intense PT session.
“Now that I have successfully been tortured for the day, let’s talk about your parents’ vow-renewal plans!”
Solomon chuckled and settled into the chair beside her.
“Hmm.” Kenya slurped the creamy coffee with more noise than her mother would approve of. The icy caramel concoction was the perfect temperature to soothe her dry throat after a tougher PT session. She just hoped it would also cool her cheeks.
Was bringing her favorite iced caramel and brown sugar latte a part of their ruse? Or was it a genuine gesture from the heart of a really kind man? Solomon didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Just drank his own warm drink in silence, his eyes roaming anywhere but toward her.
Was it indifference or intentional avoidance?
The lines were getting real blurry on their little deal.
She didn’t like her relationships to be like the way she read. She needed structure and space, clear separations, and a weightiness that didn’t allow the letters to move around.
She lifted the straw back to her mouth, sneaking a closer look at Solomon Anruchi.
His tight curls looked like they’d been recently cut, along with his goatee.
He seemed to like bouncing between glasses and contacts.
Currently he wore a pair of Ray-Ban glasses, the brand name etched in the corner of one of the lenses.
The reflection of his lenses highlighted the flecks of gold in his eyes. His eyes—
Solomon glanced at her. Oh no. Kenya jerked forward.
She’d been caught. And she couldn’t play it off, so she laughed and glanced back at him again.
His look was quizzical, and then he laughed too.
He held the warm cup away from him as the sound poured out of his mouth.
Rich honey soothing some parched place in her until it was too much.
Her laughter died down before his did. She turned away, dabbing at the dampness in the corner of her eyes.
“Okay, renewal plans.”
Kenya cleared her throat, reached for her tote bag, and pulled out her tablet.
At the top of her notes page for the day was typed “S’s mom.
” It was probably a crazy idea. She was making plans with the son, of course, but she wanted to get things more mapped out in her head.
His mother seemed to be the epicenter of the focus.
The information she needed to glean had to come firsthand and hands-on.
Plus, it couldn’t hurt to meet the woman who raised Dr. Anruchi.
“So, I was thinking . . .”
“Uh-oh.”
Kenya eyed Solomon. “What was that supposed to mean?”
Solomon had a way of saying things that were surprisingly serious, but his profile as he scribbled a few notes on a notepad from his pocket showed the hint of a laugh line, his dark eyes sparkling.
He didn’t respond right away, but she didn’t hate the wait for his explanation because it gave her enough time to drink in his profile.
She was being ridiculous but she didn’t care.
She’d been waiting a long time to see that certain look on his face.
Genuine enjoyment. Authentic kindness. Guard down and relaxed.
“It means that I better brace myself for those thoughts of yours. They may get me in trouble that I’m not ready for.”
He could say that again. Or maybe he wouldn’t when he heard the gist of them. “I was thinking that it would be fun to meet your mother.”
Solomon straightened. His casual demeanor quickly dissipated. “My mother.”
“Yes, doesn’t that sound wonderful?” Her grin did nothing to bring the pleasantness back into his face. Instead, he looked like he needed to undo the buttons at his neck and loosen a tie if he’d had one.
“I would love to get to know her, and maybe as we talk I can glean info from her that will confirm my renewal ideas.”
Solomon shook his head. “This sounds like definite trouble.”
“I think it sounds fun. From how you want to honor them, your parents seem like great people.”
Solomon swallowed. “The problem is that my mom wants to meet you too. Before she sees you at the wedding.”
“Yay! I’m so excited to meet her! By the end of this, we will probably be best friends.”
Solomon raised his hand. “Kenya, I don’t know what kind of personality you think my mom has, but I’m afraid that she has different reasons for wanting to meet you.”
“Isn’t this what all of this”—she waved her hands around, thankful their little portion of the waiting room was obscured by a faux fiddle-leaf plant—“ is for? We made a deal so that you would have someone for your parents to meet. Well, here I am, and it is perfect because then I can glean information for the vow renewal.”
Solomon sighed. She sensed him giving in but would wait to do a victory dance, er, fist pump.
“The thing is that I’m afraid that she wants to meet you to see what I mean to you.”
“But what is the problem with that? I mean, she should already assume I like you because I’m your girlfriend.” Kenya winked and felt a little thrill when he finally cracked a smile again. Another thought made her chest and throat feel tight. “Are you afraid she won’t like me?”
Kenya hoped she kept the need from her voice. She was probably unsuccessful at controlling the pitch, the vulnerability at the end of that question. This wasn’t supposed to matter for real anyway. But it did. Oh, Lord, please help, because it did.
“I’m afraid she will be able to read you. And maybe not believe you.”
Ouch.
“I’m sorry, did I offend you?” His eyes widened.
Truth was, she didn’t know. The conflict was real.
She wanted this to be believable, for this to work and for nothing to hinder her from what this could ultimately mean for her career.
But to be believed meant to reveal herself in a way she didn’t know if she could handle.
Because it would be real. And who would rescue her from that deep end when all of this was over?
She squared her shoulders. She had to keep moving forward. For her sake, for Dedra’s, for all the members of the community who didn’t need to live under the lackluster creativity of one Vance Cothrane.
“Doctor, you have nothing to worry about. Whatever your mom may think or try to do, I understand the assignment. I won’t let you down.”
Solomon nodded, but she couldn’t tell if it was relief or disappointment she saw in his face. But his inner world wasn’t what she needed to worry about right now. She’d wrestle her thoughts and feelings into submission in her own way. And she would prove to him that she could handle this.
SOLOMON SHOOK his head. Every time his mother asked him to come help with something, what was supposed to take five minutes turned into an hour or two.
She was aware of his schedule and limited free time, but somehow his time seemed to expand in her eyes.
And it wasn’t like she didn’t have other children or the resources to hire extra help.
“Mommy, where do I need to place this again?”
Several minutes of holding this ridiculously heavy piece of equipment was making his arms ache.
“I am coming,” she called out from the upstairs loft.
What was once a separate three-car garage had been converted into her design workshop.
The wearers of her signature West African couture had no idea she brainstormed most of her ideas in the garage of her North Alabama home.
It was her safe place and secret sauce, so much so that instead of hiring others to help move things around as needed, she enlisted a select few, including her oldest son.
But this visit was more significant than others.
She was ready to plant her business deeper into the city she called her true second home.
“You know you have another son, right? A son who is a lot stronger than me.”
“Yes, but he also is handling more of the business for now,” she called out. “And every time he helps, something ends up broken.”
Solomon could not deny that. His brother was able to run executive meetings and interface with investors, but he was careless with physical things. To him, anything broken could easily be replaced.
“Can you at least hurry back and tell me where you want this ancient sewing machine? I don’t even know why you still have it.”
“Because there’s no need to replace what is not broken.” His mother and brother were opposites.
“But you have two other newer ones. Why do you need this?” He sounded like a child and didn’t care at the moment because his arms were burning. He needed his arms for his patients. He exhaled a little, hearing her footsteps on the stairs.
“Did you come here to ask me questions or to help me?”
Solomon bit back his answer and gritted his teeth.
His mother walked into the garage, forgetting she still had an oven mitt in her back pocket.
Of course she would be cooking something while they were doing this.
Besides a half bathroom, the detached garage/warehouse had a miniature kitchen. She was probably cooking soup.
He sniffed. Or maybe a stew.
He sniffed some more. With goat meat.
“Am I going to stink by the time I leave?”
“That is why I cook it out here. And that is what showers are for. Now, are you going to put that sewing machine down, or will you stand there all day looking at me?”
He rolled his eyes and chuckled as she pointed to a thick table in the corner.
He maneuvered past two mannequins and a platform strategically placed in front of three full-length mirrors that she used when she measured her clients.
He did his best not to let the sewing machine land with a thud. He dusted off his hands and perused the rest of the room.
“Are you ready to assemble the couches now?”
His sister had suggested a new layout for the workshop so that they could use some of the space to post clothing online as needed. And his sister’s ideas usually turned into his job to implement. He had a couple of hours to assemble a love seat and two side chairs before he started his shift.
They could have ordered something assembled, but this specific design was the aesthetic his sister wanted, so here he was. At least he had the chance to talk to his mom.
“I guess you’re going to get your way.”
“Don’t I always?” She cackled. She sat on a stool and pulled out scissors. As she cut a slit in the top of one box, he pushed the larger one over.
“Me being here is evidence of that.”
She sucked her teeth and handed him the scissors.
“What I mean is . . . remember how you wanted to meet my girlfriend?”
“Yesss . . .” She raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up.
“Even though I tried to talk her out of it, she actually wants to meet with you too.”
His mother sat up, a pleased smile on her face. “She wants to meet with little old me?”
“Mom, don’t give me that look. And stop blinking your eyes. She wants to meet you before the wedding, and I recruited her to help plan the renewal. And you know exactly why you want to meet with her.”
“Do I?”
“Yes . . . and I don’t know how quickly you do, but please behave.”
“I always do. Who do you think I am?”
“A mother who wants the best for her son. And currently, the best is not only for me to get my test over with so I can help you expand our kingdom into all clothing sectors, but you also want me to marry a chess-level-strategic spouse and produce grandchildren for you who will carry on the Anruchi name.”
“Oh, wow, you have been listening. I am impressed.”
“Our relationship may not even last, but please, again, don’t scare her.”
His mom pulled a plastic-wrapped chair piece out of the box. “Okay, son. Whatever you say.”
“You don’t sound very convincing.”
“How I sound is none of your business. But I am convinced that you never know the where and the ways that God will provide a wife.”
Solomon narrowed his eyes, not sure if that computed in his brain, but there was no use fighting it, for now.