Chapter 6 #3
“You know who was a good businesswoman? Grandma Zinnie.”
An odd thrill shot through me. Here she was again. This distant relative I’d met Friday had invaded my consciousness ever since. “What kind of business did she have?”
“I don’t remember.” Granny frowned. Hard. “Something with herbs and roots… maybe?”
“It’s okay.” I didn’t want to push her when she was having a good day.
Her countenance brightened suddenly. “Nana Nettie told my grandmother she was generous, always kept her hands open.”
Images of the phantasmic woman dropping petals in the sanctuary shook me. She’d been there one moment. Gone the next. Perhaps a hallucination. Or an embodiment of the attic mannequin. Grandma Zinnie’s otherworldly representation? “Okay. We’ll figure it out.” Eventually.
I left Granny and Justus laughing at dance tutorials and strolled down the hallway wondering about the experiences of a Black businesswoman in nineteenth-century America.
Was she enslaved? Educated? Where precisely did she fall on our family tree? And why did her appearance feel like a divine nudge for me?
Creator, what am I missing?
Did I have excessive imbalances in life?
Was I too overly busy and distracted on a regular basis and Spirit chose such grandiose in-my-face methods to gain my attention?
But what was the message? I entered Mama’s office and headed for her desk to locate the keys to the mahogany credenza where The Treasury was stored.
The keys were cool in my grasp. I studied them as my cell phone rang, feeling as if I was embarking on a journey of discovery.
The ringtone was Rodney’s.
“Aww, shoot.” My word choice might’ve been stronger if I wasn’t at Mama’s and it wasn’t Sunday. We’d been playing phone and text tag since his prior message. I placed my phone on Mama’s desk and switched to speaker mode after connecting.
“It’s Sunday. We’re about to have family dinner. And, no, our child isn’t moving to crazy California. Period.”
Rodney’s deep laughter rolled through the phone. “I’m good, Nette. Thanks for asking. Last I checked, Justus has two parents. Not merely one in charge of executive decisions.”
The ping of an incoming text distracted me from rebutting Rodney’s sound reasoning. It was from Paul Giles, the high school sweetheart I’d treated to my toilet-tissue-attachment display at the movies yesterday.
My initial embarrassment had been short-lived.
I wasn’t a teenager trying to impress or gain a boyfriend.
I was four trips around the sun from fifty and had lived through too much to let tissue and seat covers defeat me.
I’d laughed at my faux pas and shaken it off before rejoining Paul and Justus waiting outside the women’s restroom.
We’d exchanged phone numbers, and chatted a bit until Justus grew fidgety and reminded me we had a date with a deep-dish pizza.
Now, Paul was texting. Gray sky be damned. It was a happy Sunday.
Really good seeing you yesterday. Heading home Tuesday morning. Available for dinner tomorrow before I leave?
I read Paul’s text wishing our district-wide educators’ meeting wasn’t tomorrow night.
I was tempted to miss it in lieu of Paul’s invitation but there were important items on the agenda, primarily the ongoing discussion surrounding overdue salary increases and better health benefits. It wasn’t a meeting I should miss.
“Nette?” Rodney’s calm voice cut through my musing. “You listening?”
“Yes…” I was even, while texting, telling Paul I was regrettably unavailable tomorrow.
“Tell me what I just said.”
One of Rodney’s complaints during our relationship was what he deemed my over-committed multitasking, my being distracted by multiple demands for my time and attention.
My texting another man while we were communicating might fit the bill.
Before I could defend myself, the doorbell rang. I heard Justus run to open it, and the sound of family pouring in with their loud joviality. And the aroma of good eats.
“Fine. I didn’t hear everything. I apologize. I’m not being dismissive. Can I call you from home after dinner?”
Talking with Rodney while texting Paul almost felt like techno cheating.
@ my Mom’s. Come through if you’re not busy. PLENTY to eat!
My parents liked Paul during our brief dating period, and my family was the type that strangers didn’t exist. The more the merrier. All were welcome here.
“Sure. Tell everyone I said hello.” Rodney disconnected without sounding irritated. One of his most admirable qualities was his patience. Still, I knew him. When it came to his son, he could be a pit bull and wouldn’t back down until this discussion was had. Whether or not he won.
It’s not a contest, Lynette.
With that soft assurance, I texted Paul my parents’ address, and exited Mama’s office when Justus hollered that dinner was ready, completely forgetting my need to search our family archives for the elusive Grandma Zinnie.
And discover who she was. What did she want?
And why she was appearing? Suddenly, and to me?