Chapter 13 #2
As I smiled and waved uncomfortably, the sound of silverware hitting glass filled the room before everyone voiced their confusion. My eyes locked with those of a pretty, petite, fair-skinned woman who was seated between a handsome older gentleman and an older version of herself.
She slowly pushed her chair back and stood before aggressively tossing a cloth napkin on top of her plate. The expression she held was one of anger, and if she was invited here under the guise of being courted by and eventually marrying Kenzo, I’d be pissed too.
Around me, everyone overtalked each other, but it all sounded like white noise because my focus was elsewhere. When she finally spoke, all that could be heard was her voice.
“Quiet!” she shouted, gaining everyone’s attention. When she had it, she looked back and forth between her parents before continuing.
“I told you I didn’t want to do this, and it wasn’t a good idea.
This isn’t the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
You can’t go around arranging marriages like business deals.
I don’t know this man or this family, and neither do you, but you were all too eager to marry your only daughter off to a stranger to fatten your pockets.
This is embarrassing, and I’m ready to go. Congratulations to you both.”
She marched out of the dining room, and her parents didn’t hesitate to follow. Once they were gone, all eyes were on us, but I couldn’t read their expressions.
“Did you really go off and get married without telling us?” Mrs. Goode asked.
“I did.”
“You told me you weren’t having sex with her?”
“I wasn’t at the time.”
“You knew about her?” Mrs. Goode questioned her husband.
“Malyah is one of our employees. I didn’t know her and Kenzo were a thing.”
“Ma, Pops didn’t know any more than you and Gramps.”
“How long have you two known each other?” Mrs. Goode inquired.
“Longer than I would’ve known anyone you set me up with.”
“Watch your tone with my wife. I’ve had to say that one too many times to you lately,” his father said.
“My bad. I don’t mean any disrespect.” Kenzo apologized.
“Why don’t you two go wash up and have some breakfast? There’s plenty of food, and it’ll give us some time to get to know your wife,” the eldest Kenzo said, speaking for the first time since we entered the room.
The youngest Kenzo looked at me, and I nodded. He led me to the powder room, where we washed our hands in silence. Before going back to the dining room, he stopped me.
“You good?” he asked.
“Considering the situation, I’m fine.”
“We don’t have to stay—”
“I can’t decline your grandfather’s invitation. That would be rude.”
I walked away before he could respond, but he was on my heels. We returned to the dining room, and Kenzo pulled the chair closest to his grandfather out for me, then took the seat beside me.
It was quiet as his family calmly waited for us to make our plates, but the energy in the room was anything but calm. I did my damnedest to focus on the task at hand, and when I finished making my plate, I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and said a quick prayer.
“Malyah, is it?” Gramps asked politely, and I nodded. “Tell us about you.”
“Umm, I’m thirty. I work in your company’s cafeteria as the head cook, but my goal is to eventually become a pastry chef.”
“Is that why you latched on to my son? Did you think your connection to him would help you move up the ladder quicker?” Mrs. Goode asked with a rude tone.
“No, ma’am. Your son actually latched on to me. I plan to earn my degree and apply for the position like any normal person.”
Kenzo’s father cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. I was sure he didn’t like the tone that I’d taken with his wife, but she started it.
“You’re a woman after my own heart. When did you know you wanted to become a pastry chef?” Gramps asked, thankfully, not giving any energy to what his daughter-in-law said.
“When I was five and got an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas. You wouldn’t believe the kinda stuff I used to make in that thing. When I was twelve, my mother finally let me use the real oven, and that was when I started believing it was possible.”
“Why didn’t you go to culinary school after high school?” Kenzo’s father asked.
I looked down at my plate and moved the food around while I thought about how to answer him. Kenzo reached over and rubbed my thigh, causing me to look at him.
“You good?” he asked, and I gave him a nod.
“That was the plan, but things didn’t work out.
Due to a series of unfortunate events, school had to be put on the back burner for a while.
Thankfully, I enrolled in the vocational culinary arts program in high school and earned several certifications.
I was able to work in the field and gain quite a bit of experience.
I haven’t given up on my dream, though. Last week, I paid half of my tuition to start this fall. ”
“Is this about money?” Mrs. Goode asked.
“Ma, please. What’s gotten into you?” Kenzo asked.
“I think it’s a fair question, Son,” Mr. Goode asked.
“You don’t have to answer that, baby.”
“You were so adamant about not getting married, so you should understand why we’re a little confused,” his father continued.
“I was more adamant about choosing my own wife.”
“Dinah, Junior, two weeks ago, we told him he had to get married, and now he’s married. I’m having a little trouble understanding why you two don’t seem happy,” Gramps said.
“Same,” Kenzo mumbled.
His parents exchanged a look, then returned their attention to Kenzo.
“I guess congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, Malyah,” Mr. Goode said.
“Yes, congratulations,” Mrs. Goode added in a tone that said she meant anything but congratulations.
Mr. Goode sounded a bit more genuine than his wife, but neither of them seemed ready to welcome me with open arms.
“That’s better. Let’s finish enjoying breakfast, and afterward, I’d love to talk to you a little more about baking, Malyah,” Gramps said.
“Of course, Mr. Goode. I’d love that.”
“Please, call me Gramps. You’re family now.”