Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,60
holding me in place. His dark gaze held mine for a long moment. I took in his familiar face, observing the new parallel lines running across his forehead and the deepened trails extending from the corners of his eyes. There was a new, gentle give to his pecan brown skin. I loved this man fiercely.
But I was never really sure of how well he knew me.
“Zora,” he said, his voice low and sonorous. “You alright? You sleep okay?”
“Did you?” I gave him a side-eye. “Cause you’re not exactly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed yourself.”
He rolled his eyes. “Your mother had me out all night at some gala for one of her causes.”
I wasn’t fooled in the least bit by his off-hand tone. He’d have been briefed long before he walked out the door and would have found some other like-minded person also bent on world domination to talk with.
“Hey, I was shooting the breeze with our neighbor the other day. Said he saw you and Jackson out at Cooper’s Field. Reminded us both of our days, squirreling around out there, young, dumb, and in love. I told him how me and Jackson’s daddy are expecting a proposal any day now. How is Jackson doing?”
I grimaced and worked to rearrange my features. “Okay, I guess.”
His grip on my arm tightened as his eyes narrowed. “You know, if y’all hurry up and tie the knot by—”
“Well, look who’s here!”
I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the interruption as my mother swept into the kitchen. But it was short-lived. My mother had an uncanny, sixth sense when it came to us kids. I never underestimated her. She had the sharp-eyed acuity and hunting instincts of a bald eagle.
“Hey, Mama.”
She was beautiful: face clean, curly hair pushed up in a makeshift bun. She swirled into the kitchen in one of her oldest silk robes, one that evoked some of my most elemental childhood memories. I knew it would smell of her favorite Estée Lauder perfume before I hugged her. She wore that very robe, sitting at the stove, pressing my hair with a hot comb before church when I was a child. She wore that robe as she stood in the kitchen doorway with her arms crossed, her face turned away from my tears after she handed me Nick’s short goodbye letter.
God. The history.
“Zora,” she said, a smile lighting her face as she drew near. “I can hardly believe it’s you. We beat out that university for some of your time today?” She squinted at me. “Did Walker tell you I made cinnamon rolls?”
I laughed. My mother was perfectly aware of Walker’s “extracurricular activities” but she’d also learned that a pan of freshly baked cinnamon rolls worked like a homing device for him.
“No, he didn’t, but I’ll gladly help with the eating of them. Since I’m here and all.”
“Anything else going on?”
Uh-oh. Her Spidey sense must be tingling. That wouldn’t do. “Nothing much. The usual.”
She nodded slowly as she watched me, one eye slightly squinted in a way I knew meant she was working to assemble the errant clues she somehow sensed from me.
“Well, I’m glad to see you, whatever brought you here.” She enfolded me in a hug. I closed my eyes at the softness of her slender form, the scent of her floral shampoo, and the deeper, woodsy notes of her perfume. Looking down into her face, I was startled at how much of myself I saw there. I had the same wide, dark expressive eyes, caramel skin, and generous smile. The fuller lower lip. She was beautiful and always had been, but she was also a force. A shrewd businesswoman, a tireless advocate of worthy causes. An exemplary example of womanhood for me.
“I’m going to get dressed and get out of here,” my father said, rising to put his plate in the sink.
My mother’s eyes burned into my face. I ignored it and went to pull a glass from the cabinet.
“Good seeing you, Daddy. You know, you’re getting pretty gray up top.”
He ran a hand over his hair. “That’s your mother’s fault. She was supposed to be tweezing out the gray hairs as they grew in.” I turned and saw him level a mock accusatory glare at her. “I guess she’s been falling down on the job.”
She rolled her eyes, settling in her customary chair at the kitchen table. “Ezra, do you want to be gray or bald? Pick one.”