Chapter 32
IT HAD ONLY BEEN a few days, but the office felt empty without Dedra’s presence.
And since Kenya hadn’t returned to therapy since the wedding, her days felt even emptier without her consistent meetups with Solomon.
But what could she do since Solomon was right?
There had been no promises made. At least not verbally.
He wasn’t to blame for the way her heart had meshed with his.
And knowing that he’d had his important test coming up, she hadn’t wanted to disturb his preparation or insert herself in his celebration.
That’s what family was for, and it was obvious that she would never be a part of that.
“I guess the fake dating is over,” she breathed as she closed out the windows on her computer.
She’d spent all morning cleaning out her inbox and finishing up tasks that would have normally been Dedra’s to do.
Then she started organizing her stuff into convenient piles, just in case she needed to load it into boxes like Dedra had.
A sound from the doorway made her look up.
“Hi, Evelyn.”
She was probably here to tell her to go ahead and pack up her office. She figured she would have her own cubicle to reoccupy soon. Just like she did a few years ago when she was only an event coordinator.
“Kenya, how are you?” Evelyn’s voice dripped with discomfort.
“I’m good, thank you. How can I help you?”
Evelyn sighed. “I don’t normally do this, but we’ve been contacted by someone who is looking for assistance planning a launch. From what I can tell, it’s a little outside of our offerings, on the small scale.”
“But you are considering it.”
“Yes, because she keeps asking for you specifically. She didn’t have your contact but met you recently.”
Kenya’s stomach roiled with dread. Could it be Solomon’s mom or sister for the vow renewal that she technically didn’t finish planning and didn’t plan on attending?
“Evelyn, I don’t know.”
“I honestly don’t either,” Evelyn admitted. “But the rest of our team is up to their ears with tasks, and since you are the queen of last-minute adjustments, go ahead and contact her to schedule a time to meet.”
Kenya’s thoughts flitted to her time on the mountain. God, get your glory and help me to do my best.
“Okay, did she leave a name, a number?”
“She gave the name Althea Gibson and wants to meet with you this afternoon.”
Two hours later, Kenya slid into a booth at Alonzo’s Bakery and Bistro.
She glanced around at the classic decor and cozy, welcoming atmosphere.
Alonzo had come to her a few years ago asking for ideas on how to style his restaurant.
She ran her hand over the table, the textures of his custom-made tops soothing and reminding her of the ripples on water.
She inhaled. The buzzing of the café slowed to a purr. The smell of Madagascar vanilla mingled with a smoked bourbon scent. Hmm, maybe there would be a new coffee cake to try today.
The soft sounds of lo-fi wafted out of the well-hidden speakers, reminding her of another seat not so long ago, when she was nestled on the passenger side of Solomon’s car, so uncertain about what step to take but longing even then to stay right by his side.
She tipped her chin, the sun lighting her face, seeping warmth all the way down to her toes until her recovering foot was cupped in comfort.
She breathed in deep. God, you are as close as my next breath. Not far away. Not strived for but here in this moment with me.
She pulled out her notepad and scribbled out some ideas, not caring about her spelling or how lined up everything was on the page.
Kenya started at the touch on her shoulder. “Hello again, Kenya.”
“Hi.” Kenya stood up and was immediately drawn into Althea’s embrace. “So good to see you again.”
Before sitting down, Althea peered at the notebook on the table. She straightened, her smile reaching her eyes and embracing Kenya even more. “What are you writing in that notebook of yours?” the older woman asked.
Kenya wished she had closed it before getting up.
“Um, just some notes. For our meeting. For me.” Her words stuttered out.
Althea focused on the top page, running across the pen marks with her finger. “That is an interesting way to spell my name. A-L-T-E-H-A. And drawing the state of Alabama, a tea bag, and an arrow pointing up, quite inventive.”
Kenya’s neck and ears grew warm. “I, uh—”
“I see that you too have the gift of dyslexia,” Althea said.
Kenya blinked.
Althea sat down across from her. “Sit down, dear, we have much to discuss.”
Kenya did and found her words. “Come again?”
“Dyslexia. I can tell. Not that any two are the same. I think each person comes with their own quirks, despite what kind of label people want to put on them. A couple of my favorite franchise managers have dyslexia. They have an uncanny ability to strategize in creative ways.”
Kenya was dumbfounded. Althea pulled the pad toward her, took the liberty to flip through some pages.
Kenya should have felt almost violated, but the act was freeing.
This woman carried no judgment. “I see how you’ve spelled some of these words.
And even on the tour I noticed some of the cues you used to help you with directions. ”
Kenya could only breathe, still in shock.
“Hm-mm.” Althea leaned back, an amused expression on her face. “Don’t look at me like you’ve never heard the word before.”
“You’re right, I do have dyslexia, but all my life I’ve looked at it as a curse, as a constant obstacle I needed to overcome just to be normal.
I’ve never looked at it as being a gift.
” Even as she spoke, the weight that had settled on her felt different.
Like a royal, velvet robe. A gift. Her heart soaked in those words that shed light on all her inner thoughts.
“Of course it’s a gift,” Althea continued.
“We all receive gifts. They come in so many different shapes and sizes. The fit of yours is a mind that processes information differently. Because God knows exactly who you are and what he would have you be. And God wanted that exact expression of you on this earth. Now we put our little labels and names on it, make it so that we can understand and formulate plans better. And rightly so because what we use as standards do not adequately describe the breadth and depth of the gifts we’ve all been given.
But that’s okay because God knows exactly what he’s doing.
Your gift is fit for whatever journey he has for you to take. So don’t you dare take it for granted.”
She leaned in close, reached across to place her hand sweetly on Kenya’s cheek as if she were an aunt or a grandmother she’d known her whole life. “And don’t you fail to glorify God with it.”
Kenya smiled, feeling the prick of tears, but deeper was the squeeze of her heart.
Twice now, Althea had stepped in with exactly what she didn’t know she needed to hear. Althea had kind, understanding eyes, reminding her of someone else she’d known as a child. Her mind drifted to that cherished memory as easily as a film playing on a screen.
“Hi. Kenya, right?”
Kenya sniffed. She didn’t want to look up.
A light scent of oranges and mint filled her nose.
She felt movement and couldn’t help turning her head as the art teacher sat down next to her on the cold floor.
She didn’t think old people ever did that.
But she guessed the teacher wasn’t that old.
Her hands weren’t as wrinkly as Kenya’s grandma’s, and her light-brown eyes were big and clear behind her glasses.
She liked the vest the teacher was wearing.
Lots of different patterns, and underneath . . .
“Your shirt is pink like mine.”
The teacher smiled. “Yes, that’s right. I always like to see what you wear, too, during our art time.”
“You see me?”
Miss Peters laughed. “Of course I do, Kenya. We are all seen and loved.” She paused, tucked her chin down to look Kenya in the eye. “You want to take a walk with me? I’m on my free period and could use a little help.”
Kenya sniffed again. “I wasn’t supposed to leave class. Mrs. Rashid will be looking for me.”
Miss Peters smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling up in a way that made Kenya want to smile back. “Don’t worry,” she whispered with a wink. “I’ll tell her we are going on a quick adventure. And I have some extra fruit snacks to share if you like that.” Kenya did.
The nice teacher stood up and offered her hand to help Kenya up too. And as they walked down the hall, Kenya didn’t let that lifeline of a hand go.
Althea felt the same way. Like a lifeline. Her eyes crinkled up around the edges, even though their color was hazel-green, striking against her light-brown skin and dark-gray-streaked hair. She, too, offered her hand, and Kenya grasped it.
“I wanted to talk to you because I have a feeling about you.”
Kenya blinked herself back to the present as a waiter brought out water, tea, and the coffee cake Althea had ordered at some point.
“Part of the reason why I came on this tour was to pray over where my friend and I will be starting a new, different kind of shop. This endeavor combines my love for baked goods and cozy atmospheres with her eye for design that meets women where they are. A fusion of boutique and bakery. Bringing comfortable couture to the community.”
Althea’s words rang with familiarity, but Kenya couldn’t put her finger on the reason.
“Why Hope Springs?” she asked instead.
Althea smiled. “Well, it has a certain charm about it, for sure. And I just feel like there’s so much under the surface, growth that we can’t comprehend.
I like to be in on the beginning of things, and there is something fun and adventurous about taking a risk.
Plus, there is no way y’all should continue as a town without my scones. ”
Kenya laughed. “You just might give Alonzo here a run for his money.”
“And I am quite happy to.” Althea joined in her amusement.