Chapter 34 #2
He squeezed his mother’s hand back. He didn’t necessarily need their permission, but he treasured it anyway. “Thank you, Mommy. That means a lot.”
She released his hand and then waved the words away. “Okay, you have some things to do, including passing your next test.”
His father exhaled. “Are we done with all this lovey-dovey? Now it is time to talk real business about the party you have planned for our renewal. Nneka, what is your report?”
Solomon chuckled to himself as his sister kicked it into high gear and pulled out Kenya’s folder. His mother stood up to clear the table. Simon clasped his shoulder, relief and congrats all in one.
THE SUN POURED IN through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the storefront, warming her face but not removing the nervous chill from her arms.
Kenya bit the inside of her cheek. A habit she’d had since childhood but that was more pronounced of late.
She pursed her lips to stop herself. There were other ways of coping besides that.
She stepped back as her mother perused the open area.
It had been a few days since her conversation with Robert Bluestone, and in that time, she’d made contact with the Bellon Group, confirmed Blue Horizon’s involvement, and presented Evelyn with the news.
Evelyn was so ecstatic that she had offered to split the creative director role between Kenya and Vance.
“There is only room for one in this season.” Kenya had shaken her head. “And it is not me.” And it was okay. She wouldn’t fight to be seen or to have the final say.
Because her worth was not found in a title or role. And it also wasn’t found in running away, as enticing as Althea’s offer was. She would stay in her current role at Rose-Hued Events Management and continue to cultivate God’s unique design for her in this season.
She loved planning events, and though she balked at structure, she needed the accountability.
Althea respected her decision so much that she asked if Kenya would like to come on as a consultant for the beginning stages of the bakery-boutique launch.
And if she ever wanted to work fully for them, the door would always be open.
For now, she could be here as much as she needed to be because it was part of her job.
The best of both worlds. Who would have thought?
Kenya couldn’t wait to share her ideas with Althea and Favour for their one-of-a-kind concept, at least for this area. A boutique showroom where you could linger, grab a coffee and cake, inspire creativity.
Her mother’s eyes seemed to sparkle, but the sun was casting such luminescent rays into the shop windows that even the dust danced.
“For glory and beauty.” The verse from Exodus she’d seen on the wall of that little alteration shop danced in her mind.
The wisp of understanding brushed her nose, lifting her cheeks in contentment. She inhaled that peace and exhaled any lingering fear of disappointment.
Her mom continued to roam the space, running her hands along the marble countertop, lingering on the fabric swatches stacked in a corner.
She stepped toward hooks holding various lengths of fabric, her fingers drifting over the silks and satins and crepes, a smile playing at her lips.
The walls had already been painted a modern shade of white and furniture was still on its way, but it was already shaping up to be an incredible space.
Kenya watched her mom lean over the stack of books still needing to be put up. They were more for coffee-table inspiration, but Kenya loved the pictures and even the words that were often displayed in bold text.
“What do you think?” Kenya whispered, not wanting to break her mama’s concentration from whatever book caught her interest. But her mother wasn’t reading at all.
Instead, she braced herself, with one hand splayed on the table and the other clutching at her shirt, her body in subtle tremors.
Her eyes were closed. What Kenya thought were sparkles overflowed into droplets on her lashes.
“Mama?”
Her mom started, as if just remembering her daughter’s presence. She extended the hand at her heart and pulled her daughter close. Kenya didn’t need any more encouragement. She wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, squeezing tight.
After a few moments, Kenya pulled back, unsure of what had made her mother so emotional but thankful to be experiencing this moment of vulnerability with her.
“Mama, what do you think?”
Her mom inhaled. Maybe her confession a few days ago about dyslexia in her childhood had shaken and settled her too.
Such contentment filled her mother’s expression, just as sure as the mascara ran down her cheeks.
She moved one hand to her face to unsuccessfully wipe away the tears she’d probably never expected to cry.
“I think this place will be magnificent. And I—” She sniffed. Turning to face Kenya, she placed her hands on her daughter’s cheeks.
Kenya’s vision blurred, and she saw her mother through a watery hue.
“I can’t believe that I got blessed with such a dazzling daughter like you.”
It was Kenya’s turn to sniffle. “Dazzling. That’s one of my favorite words.”
“I know.” Her mom laughed. She pulled her daughter back into her arms.
Kenya relished the way she fit so snugly there.
“I know,” she said again, inhaling and exhaling against her daughter’s hair. “Kenya, why do you care so much about what I think anyway?”
Kenya jerked her chin up. “Why wouldn’t I? I always did. I was almost afraid you would talk me out of all this, and I would give it up because . . .” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Because I want you to be proud of me.”
Her mother held her tighter. “I did so much in my life for approval.” Her words tumbled into Kenya’s hair.
“But you are choosing to jump into this for joy. Oh, baby, why would I ever take that away from you?” She stepped away and wiped her eyes.
“Before I forget, I have something for you.” She turned to retrieve her tote bag from an accent chair.
Kenya’s curiosity rose as her mother pulled out a box. She brought it close and handed it to her daughter. Kenya’s hand dipped at the weight of it.
“Is this a Bible?” She recognized the type of box. Her eyes ran over the words.
Before she could read them, her mother answered. “It is. It is called the Grace Bible, and it is specifically made for readers with dyslexia.”
Her mom’s words whooshed into her heart. She stepped back at the realization.
“A Bible, for me?” Kenya pulled off the box lid, ignoring the pieces of colored overlays that fell to the ground. She pulled out the Bible, her fingers resting on the leather-soft cover as she opened it somewhere in the middle.
Kenya gasped. “I can read these words easier.”
Her mother nodded. “It’s a special typeface with weighted letters to keep them from moving around or looking like another letter. Their own kind of anchor.” She flipped the pages over to where a ribbon was.
“And I hope this verse becomes a strong anchor for you too.” Her fingers settled on a passage she’d already highlighted.
“Let’s read Exodus 36:1 together. ‘Bezalel, Oholiab, and all the skilled people are to work based on everything the Lord has commanded. The Lord has given them wisdom and understanding to know how to do all the work of constructing the sanctuary.’”
Her mother’s voice had drifted off halfway, but Kenya continued to read.
When she was finished, she turned misty eyes to her mama, her throat too thick to say anything else.
Her mother placed her hand on Kenya’s cheek.
“I know it is out of context, but I couldn’t help thinking of you.
You, my girl, are a gifted artisan. Filled to overflowing with God’s wisdom and, yes, understanding too.
Don’t let any circumstance ever tell you different. ”
“Look at all this progress.” A voice interrupted their moment.
Kenya glanced at the doorway. Althea stood there . . . with Favour Anruchi.
She cleared her throat as best she could. “Oh, hello, Althea. I didn’t expect you. I was just showing my mother everything.”
Althea stepped forward first in greeting. “It is so nice to meet you. We are excited to have your daughter join us in this endeavor.”
As they talked, Kenya walked to Solomon’s mother. “Mrs. Anruchi, first I want to say thank you for this opportunity to help with your brand. And I know I haven’t seen you in a while, but I also want to apologize for what happened at the wedding—”
Favour raised her hand. “I am the one who needs to say sorry.” She clasped Kenya’s shoulders, her expression softer than Kenya had seen it. “I am happy to have you as a part of this endeavor that is close to my heart.”
She surveyed the room. “Now, enough with our talk. We came here to work. Tell me what to do.”
Kenya bit back a grin and showed her some of the sketches and swatches she had pulled.
What should have been a short visit to the boutique on her mother’s first day of fall break turned into a full day of work.
Kenya answered a few phone calls related to her agency and continued to chat and dream with the ladies as they unpacked boxes.
There was more to come, and the setup was messy and varied and complicated and dazzling, all together.
Exactly like her. And she was grateful to be with them in the midst of it.