Chapter 29
LEAVE IT TO HIS SISTER to round the corner of the lobby with a smirk on her face.
Since her arrival back to Huntsville a few months ago, Nneka had set up camp at this downtown hotel and would stay for another week or so.
And since everyone was still recovering from the wedding, there would be no Sunday dinner at their parents’ house today.
“Nneka, I need your help.”
She gave him a hug and led him to a seating area three steps below the main lobby.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Because you only need my help when you did something.”
“That’s not true.”
“Is it that really cute woman who came with you to the wedding that you’ve been avoiding talking to us about?” She sat down on a plush corner chair.
He took a seat on a camel-leather three-seater. “What I need to talk to you about is for our parents’ vow renewal. I’m not sure if Kenya will be there.”
“Why? Won’t she be coordinating it?”
“I’m not sure. I just have a strong feeling after what happened last night.”
Nneka crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay. What did you say to her?”
“It’s more like all the things she said to me, but I tried to explain that this is not who I am.”
“But it is, so . . .”
“You know what I mean. She has this certain idea of what a multimillion-dollar-international-business family should look like. For whatever reason, she feels like she’s not enough for that. But that’s not who I am, or that’s not what I want to be.”
Nneka sighed and steepled her fingers.
“Brother, I know you guys think I’m silly sometimes and live frivolously, but it’s because I do enjoy this.
I enjoy our lifestyle and what we’ve put together.
You know why? Because it allows me to meet so many people.
The extravagance that we sell allows us to be here now.
Think about it, brother, really think about it.
Do you think launching a line in Hope Springs is going to give us a huge output?
Do you think that’s going to be, at least initially, a major income stream? ”
“No, I just figured it was another way to take over small-town businesses.”
“Right. And you wanted to be that small-town doctor who is all about the people and saving the day, right?”
He felt his defenses rise. “Are you saying that’s all I’ve been doing? Being some insecure rescuer?”
“I am not saying that, but you need to be honest with yourself.”
“That’s what she said,” he mumbled.
“And she would be right. You don’t have to deny the family who made you.
We didn’t come from much, and look at what our parents have built.
The designs of our company, all inspired by what Mom put together decades ago, are on runways and worn by dignitaries.
We source our materials from trusted suppliers.
We provide jobs for people we’ve never met.
We have teams who pray over the fabrics we use. ”
Solomon grunted. “I always thought that was weird.”
“Yeah, and because of that, you didn’t consider the significance.
They didn’t give the company its name just to mix Mom’s name with yours or son.
Mommy always talks about praying for God’s favor on these clothes.
For those people to see themselves the way God sees them.
” Solomon looked at his sister as if he was seeing her for the first time.
“How do you know all this?”
“Because while you were busy running away in pride—”
“Ouch.”
“Well, if the shoe fits . . .” She tossed him a smile.
“While you were doing all that, and while our brother was resenting the fact that he was having to take on what you were not doing, I asked questions. I got to know not just what we do but the people in our company we do it with. The ones that we get to employ, the connections that we get to make. Not even just the influential ones that we clothe but the people who work with them. And because of those moments, we’re able to be here now.
Do you know how special this place is to them? To Mom?”
How had he forgotten?
His sister continued. “She met her best friend here. This is where the seeds of the business idea came from. So while you’re thinking that they don’t know what you care about and aren’t concerned about your dreams, they are funding them.
And yes, they wanted you to be right in their pocket doing those things, but maybe you need to be honest with yourself and look at what you’ve been given with gratitude.
Stop hiding the fullness of who you are.
Because what it sounds like to me is that Kenya brought everything to the table as much as she could.
The good, the bad, the ugly, and the clumsy. ”
He laughed. He needed that too. Her words were heavy, and he needed to process them. He thought he was a wise one. But, oh, there was that pride again, wasn’t it?
Nneka leaned toward him. “I am proud of you, big brother. You have always been passionate about what you do. And I know it probably has much more to do with the hard times you experienced while you were away at boarding school than anything else. But the key is that you need to be honest with that, too, and be honest about the family that God allowed you to be born in. It’s a privilege but doesn’t have to make you prideful.
Hiding and trying to stay in control does. ”
She patted his knee abruptly and stood up.
“That’s it? You’re done? I thought you were gonna give me a plan for how to fix this.”
She pulled her purse to her shoulder. “Oh, silly brother. I may be your family, but I’m in solidarity with your girl. She’s got her own struggles to deal with. But I’m not going to try to give you advice to fix anything until you work on fixing yourself.”
“I will think about that.”
“If you do that, everything else will come. Also, you’ve got a lot to say to Mom and Dad too, don’t you?”
“I’ll wait until after my test, if you don’t mind. It’ll be much easier when I have a pass to talk from.”
“Suit yourself. Ta-ta.” She wiggled her fingers at him, put on her expensive sunglasses, and walked out the double glass doors.
AFTER THE FIFTH KNOCK on her front door, Kenya opened it and walked back to the kitchen bar to finish organizing her tote bag. It had been full of wrappers and receipts from over the past few weeks instead of magazines and event documents.
“Kenya, why have you not been answering my calls?”
Her mother stepped into the kitchen, looking around with barely veiled judgment.
“I just, I just can’t right now, Mom. Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“So instead of answering, you make me take a Monday morning off to drive out here to check on you. Have me worried to death. I thought I was going to get a recap of this amazing wedding you went to.”
“Well, you’re definitely not gonna get that, Mama, because it was terrible.”
“Oh, really? Did something happen between you and Solomon?” Her mom set her purse down.
“No, Mama, something happened with me.”
How would she explain what she had never been able to?
Her mom had seen her break down plenty of times but didn’t always know the details of what it was like for her in school. Those memories were triggered when she stood there stuttering, staring at the crowd of wedding-goers.
“Mom, wh-why didn’t you work harder to fix me?”
“What do you mean, Kenya?”
“To make sure that I didn’t have dyslexia?”
She released a weary breath. “Dyslexia is not some disease that can be cured with a magic pill, Kenya. It’s a neurological, neurodiversity issue. It’s not that simple.”
“You were a teacher, and you’re a principal. Why didn’t that make a difference for me? Maybe instead of you looking over my every move, you could’ve moved me into some kind of special class or some kind of—I don’t know—boarding school.” She thought of Solomon, and her heart ached.
“Why in the world would I want to do that?”
“So I wouldn’t mess up, because I can barely read in front of a crowd of people!” She was panting as if she’d run a race or hiked up Monte Sano. Activities that she hadn’t done in so long, the loss tore at her soul.
Mama stepped closer with arms out. “Kenya, is that what happened?”
“I can’t talk about it right now. That’s why I haven’t called.”
“Kenya, let me help. How about we go somewhere? Sit down and have breakfast so that I can really hear what happened and figure out how I can help.”
“It’s too late for that, Mama. It’s too late. If I’ve learned anything over these past few months, I’m always on the edge, one or two mistakes away from everything crumbling. I’m too late to be helped. And you’ve got to get back to school.”
“Kenya . . .”
Her cell phone vibrated on the counter.
Kenya recognized Evelyn’s number. She was the last person she wanted to talk to, when just two days ago she couldn’t wait to update her boss on what she was sure would be her success.
Kenya had been so close to making all this work, to setting up one of the biggest opportunities in their agency’s history, and she had failed.
She had failed in such epic proportions that there was no recovering from it.
“Bye, Mama. I have to take this.”
Kenya picked up the phone while her mother let herself out. She squashed the regret that rose. There was no space for that when so many other emotions filled the room.
Dedra had given her a heads-up that Evelyn would call after Kenya had told Dedra she wouldn’t be in today. She hadn’t given a good reason. There was no way to explain a pain deeper than her ankle, a setback worse than losing weeks of full mobility.
Dedra had sounded disappointed and maybe even frustrated, but she agreed to update Evelyn and have her call when she was ready.
“Well, Kenya, you promised me the goods.” Evelyn didn’t waste time on preliminaries. “And I am ready for it. Tell me what you have.”
Kenya sniffed. Blasted eyes! Why were they leaking so often lately? Every barrier she’d had to keep her safe had been pummeled.
“I have nothing.” She barely breathed.
“What did you say? Speak up, Kenya. I can’t hear you.”
“I said”—Kenya inhaled enough air to hopefully suppress her tears, her voice shuddering with effort—“I have nothing, Evelyn. I thought . . . I have nothing to give you. I don’t have a vendor for the Bellon Group.”
She couldn’t even see the images she’d dreamed up anymore.
“That’s a shame.” Evelyn’s tone didn’t change, but her exasperation was palpable.
And the silence after, rife with what felt like disgust. “Well, Stewart, this is unfortunate. I was hoping that we would be able to see a turn, but things have continued to unravel, and quite rapidly. If I can’t count on you to be capable, then there are changes I will have to make. You know this, right?”
Kenya didn’t want to even consider it, but she said yes anyway.
“I’ll be in touch, but until then, I expect you to come to the tour when it starts next Thursday with exceptional support and engagement. Vance may be the one running point on this, but you are still a member of his team.”
“I understand. I will be there.”
Kenya placed the phone down as Evelyn clicked off.
The North Alabama Investors’ Tour that she’d campaigned for, organized, and promoted for the past two years would be run by someone who didn’t even care about the people it impacted.
Hope Springs was just an inconsequential little village to Vance.
He didn’t realize how much potential it had and how it was positioned to blossom.
Yet he would have the final say over her when everything started.
He would be the one to pivot and adjust as needed.
And he would be the one to move up as the creative director, not because he was the best for the job but because she wasn’t anymore.
“I’m so ashamed,” Kenya wailed.
The words had wrung out of her soul, pulling with them chunks of every burrowing word and hurt over the years. Every brick of protection she’d placed around her heart to keep her from crumbling seemed to be gone.
She was the little girl asked to read in front of the class, stumbling through her words.
She was the one who couldn’t spell her last name correctly until her cousin helped her in the fourth grade.
Once again, the sting of rejection pierced her like it did when she was accused of trying to get all the attention at summer camp because she asked so many questions and came up with too many creative ideas. But it was really because she didn’t understand every instruction.
She never understood.
The only thing that came easily to her was physical activity.
And the threat of not being able to participate in sports when she was in high school because of her grades had almost demolished her.
But when she discovered that she could put tangible projects and experiences together from scraps, just like she’d learn to survive with scraps of understanding, she’d soared.
And now those wings had let her down.