The Deal, the Dance, and the Devil (14 page)

“Got a moment?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said with a frown. Okay, so this was the third time in as many work days that Shay-Shaunté was in my office. Three times more than she’d been in here in the last three years. What was up with that? Why was she all up in my space?

She strolled toward me doing that one-long-leg-crossed-in-front-of-the-other strut and finally wiggled into the chair. “Sorry about yesterday,” she said.

I didn’t blink, I didn’t nod, I didn’t give her a thing. What did she want me to say, anyway? She’d known what she’d been doing; she’d set me up. But since I couldn’t prove it, and since I wasn’t going to play whatever game she was serving up, I just sat there and tried to make the silence so uncomfortable that she would change the subject or leave.

She said, “So, have you made a decision?”

My jaw fell. Audacity! That’s all I could call it. Did she honestly think that because she’d sashayed into my office and ambushed Adam, something had changed?

I glared at her. “I told you already,” I said, though my lips barely moved. “That’s not going to happen.”

She frowned and rubbed her forefinger against her chin. “But we agreed. I want to support Howard University with their internship program and you’d be the perfect person to mentor one of their students. Why’re you changing your mind about this now?”

Dang! The internship program. That’s what she was talking about. I said, “I’m sorry. Yes. The intern. Yes. You’re talking about the intern.”

She cocked her head a bit. “What did you think I was talking about?” The words oozed from her lips.

I ignored her question. “I got a couple of résumés right here.” Thumbing through the pile of papers stacked high on my desk, I found the résumés and offered them to her.

She left me holding the papers as she stood. “That’s okay. I want you to make the decision.”

Then why did you come in here? I wanted to ask.

She took a couple of steps toward the door, then glanced back over her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay, Evia? You seem a little … uptight.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m more than fine. I’m better than I’ve been in a long, long time.”

“Really.”

I looked her up and down and gave her my own lopsided smile. “Really,” I said. “Everything’s cool. Better than cool.”

She raised an unbelieving eyebrow, then said, “Great” in a tone that emphasized her doubt. Like a dancer, she twirled, grabbed the doorknob, and glided out. But before she was completely out of my sight, she added, “Just to let you know, if you need me, I’m here.”

It was the way she said it and the way she looked at me that left a scowl on my face.

The only thing I wanted from Shay-Shaunté was out—of Ferossity! And thank God, that was gonna happen soon.

Chapter 20

T
HE WEEK BETWEEN THE CALL
A
DAM
had received from Mr. Yearwood and the actual interview crawled by at a sickly snail’s pace. It wasn’t just our anxiety that slowed the passing of time. Our life was crumbling; every day brought new adversity, dragging us closer to the brink.

It had started, of course, on Tuesday, with the repossession of our SUV. But then on Wednesday, despair made another visit.

“Mom!” Alexa exclaimed the moment I came home from work. “Our cell phones are off!” She sobbed so deeply that I thought she was going to faint—yet again. “And so is the regular phone, and the cable. And even the Internet! How are we going to do our homework?”

I inhaled a long breath, then did my best not to release a deep sigh. We’d done one of those cable bundles that had been meant to save money. But it hadn’t saved us enough to keep the services on.

“Mom!” Alexa cried again when I didn’t answer right away. “What are we gonna do?”

I don’t know,
I cried back on the inside. On the outside, I played the strong mother role and told Alexa that all would be well.

My mini-me backed me up. “Mom’s right, Lexa,” Alana assured her sister softly. “Remember, Daddy got a new job.” She looked at me before she added, “Right?”

I nodded, because I didn’t want to lie aloud.

“Well, if Daddy has a job, why did this happen?”

“You know it takes a couple of days before he can be paid.” Then I asked, “Your father’s not home?” I was eager to pass these questions over to Adam, since this was his lie.

“No,” the girls spoke in unison.

“Well, let’s wait to talk to him,” I said, knowing that he couldn’t have gone far without a car. “He’ll be home soon.”

That wasn’t good enough for Alexa. “I just don’t know,” a long breath, “how we’re supposed to live!”

I couldn’t hold it back anymore—that deep sigh eased on out of me. Yes, life had changed, but Alexa didn’t know how good she still had it.

The privilege that Adam and I had worked so hard to give to Alexa, Alana, and Ethan was supposed to be an asset. We gave them the best we had to give so that they would return the favor—by doing the very best they could in school and in their lives.

But now those positives had shifted. Our daughters—especially Alexa—didn’t know that most of what they had were privileges, not rights.

So how were they going to handle what was to come if Adam didn’t get this job? Would they be able to handle living in a smaller home, or even an apartment? What about sharing a bedroom or having only one television in the entire
house? Or a life without cell phones, and cable, and Internet services?

It wouldn’t be as bad, but would they be able to even imagine the way I’d been raised?

“This is all too much,” Alexa cried before she dashed up the stairs and into her amenity-packed bedroom.

It was over-the-top, unnecessary drama, but the fact was, Alexa’s words were the truth. Because by Thursday, it
was
becoming too much.

With our cell phones turned off and our home phone not being reconnected until that afternoon, the call came into me at the office.

“Evia? This is Ms. Johnson, from Pearly Gates.”

I started praying right then, already knowing the purpose of the call. But I needed to stall to get my thoughts together.

So with a level of drama that I’d learned from my daughter, I said, “Oh, my goodness! Is my mother-in-law all right?”

“Yes, yes,” she rushed to assure me. “She’s fine. I’m calling about a totally different matter.”

As if I didn’t know.

She said, “I’m calling about the check that you gave me on Sunday.”

“Oh, that. Yes, we were supposed to give you more by the end of the week, right?” It was a move meant to buy time, but I didn’t know what I needed more time for. I knew how this conversation was going to end no matter how much I tried to postpone the inevitable.

“The thing is, Evia, the check you gave me bounced.”

I wanted to tell her that I hadn’t given her a thing, but I wasn’t about to throw Adam under like that. I waited for the gauntlet to come with her next words.

And it did.

“We’re making plans to move your mother-in-law into a
double occupancy room, but if we don’t have the full payment by the end of the month, she’ll have to be moved to another facility altogether.”

“Okay,” was all I said.

My simple agreement seemed to baffle Ms. Johnson. “Oh … okay.”

What did she expect? A fight? For what?

I assured her that she would have all the money, plus some, by the thirty-first, and then I hung up and wondered if things could get any worse.

While life was crumbling at home, life at work was steady, but so different. One of the advantages of my job was that from day one, Shay-Shaunté had let me work autonomously. There had often been weeks when I’d only seen Shay-Shaunté once or twice.

But in the last week, I’d seen Shay-Shaunté more than I’d seen her in my six years at Ferossity! Almost every morning, Shay-Shaunté came into my office (instead of calling me into hers) for a quick meeting to review the day’s agenda. That part, though different, I could handle. It was the little extra meetings that began to creep me out.

Like when she showed up when I was in the bathroom—even though she had a private one in her office. Or the lunchroom—even though she always had her food delivered.

But the freakiest thing was the number of times I saw her in the elevator. Not that she took the steps, no. It was just that she never went to any of the other floors. Whenever she held a meeting, it was in her space. If she needed to see someone, she summoned them to her. So, why, all of a sudden, was she in the elevator every time I got on?

Then there were the times when I’d be in the hallway, turn around, and Shay-Shaunté would be behind me. Or in the copy room. Even the mail room.

She almost felt like … a stalker.

Scary!

But I pushed those thoughts away for two reasons. First, because what I was thinking was ridiculous. And second, even if it wasn’t ridiculous, it would be over soon.

I just had to make it through this weekend, and then on Monday, Adam and I would be able to celebrate nothing but good news.

Chapter 21

T
HERE WAS NO NEED FOR US
to hide out anymore—the jig was up. So on Saturday, our regular visiting day, we piled into the Kia and trekked ninety miles down the interstate to Pearly Gates Estates.

This trip was so different from the dozens we’d taken before. The weight of all that we carried—not only Adam and I, but the children as well—filled the air. It didn’t help that Alexa, Alana, and Ethan were stuffed into a backseat that was less than half the space of the Escalade’s. The twins’ long legs were pushed so far back that their knees were almost in their laps. And poor Ethan was squeezed so tightly between his sisters that he had no room to play his games.

Life only got worse when we arrived at Pearly Gates and found Ruby’s new room. I wasn’t sure which broke my heart more—the look of utter failure in my husband’s expression or what we faced with his mother.

In the facility where the single rooms were housed, where
Ruby had been living, the walls were pristine white, a perfect backdrop for the expensive art that had been bestowed by benefactors of the estate. With new furniture and live plants, Pearly Gates always felt like some kind of oasis rather than an extended-care home for the elderly.

But the serenity that was part of Pearly Gates did not extend to where they’d moved Ruby. This building felt more like an old dormitory, a building that might have been better suited for the staff. Maybe.

It seemed like these double rooms were smaller than the singles. The walls were gray, not from paint but from the dinge and the dirt. The furniture was aged, and where there had been laughter and cheer in the halls of the other building, silence reigned in this one.

When we entered Ruby’s room, the first bed was occupied by a petite woman completely covered by a sheet. Although we couldn’t see her, soft moans told us someone was there for sure.

A nurse was by the bedside, adjusting a machine so nonchalantly that I assumed that whoever was under the sheet was all right.

“Hello,” Adam nodded to the attending nurse. “We’re here to see Ruby Langston.”

The young woman smiled at Adam’s greeting, then directed us to pass to the other side, where Ruby’s bed was jammed against the wall.

The children gasped as we stepped closer. Ruby’s eyes were stretched wide, as if she was trying to see everything, or as if she was scared. She’d curled herself into a tight ball, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin tucked into her neck.

“She’s all right,” the nurse rushed to tell us. “Her vitals are good and she’s been sleeping through the night; she still takes naps during the day, which is good, too.” Then her voice became deeper, softer, as if now, bad news was coming. “But
she’s been this way”—the nurse pointed to Ruby, who was now trembling—“for the last two days. Since she was moved in here on Thursday.”

“She hates it here,” Adam whispered.

I squeezed his hand before I asked the attendant, “Has she eaten anything?”

The nurse nodded slowly, sadly. “A little, but if we can’t get her to eat more, the doctor will have to put her on an IV.”

“I thought you said we weren’t moving Grandma,” Alana said as her eyes slowly scanned the room.

Adam was ready with an answer. “We thought she’d be better with company.”

“Well,” Alexa began, crossing her arms, “it doesn’t look like she’s better.” She glared at the nurse as if this was her fault. “You need to move Grandma right on back to her own room,” Alexa demanded.

The way the nurse tossed attitude right back at Alexa, I knew there was a teenager somewhere in her life. After she stared my daughter down, the nurse shook her head, then left us alone.

For long, long minutes, the five of us stood awkwardly around Ruby’s bed, as if we were holding some type of vigil. There was no chatter, no sharing of the week’s events. There was no dashing off to the cafeteria for ice cream sundaes and no private moments for me.

Today, our anxiety was palpable, and we bided our time. Before today, we hated to leave; today, we couldn’t wait.

We didn’t last a whole thirty minutes before we kissed Ruby good-bye with promises to be back next weekend, then we stuffed ourselves into the Kia for the silent ride home. There wasn’t much that awaited us there, but it was better than watching Ruby, crammed into that room, trembling with fright.

By the time Adam turned the car onto our cul-de-sac, my thoughts were on leftovers, and anything else I could do to make the rest of Saturday night easier for my children.

But then any plans I had came to an end when I saw the rusty, battered black pickup truck parked in our driveway.

“Oh, no,” the children moaned together. Then I realized they hadn’t sung that chorus alone—Adam and I had groaned, too.

“Hey!” My mother was out of the truck and waving her hands wildly before Adam even turned off the ignition. She traipsed across the lawn, her stiletto boots digging up the dirt until she was standing right by our car.

“How’re my grandbabies doing?” my mother asked as she hugged Alana, then Ethan, then Alexa.

By the time Adam and I crawled from the Kia, Cashmere’s brood was doing what they did best—bouncing and jumping and running.