Admission of Love (7 page)

“Have a seat baby.” Lil opened the refrigerator door. “Sweet tea or lemonade?”

“Lemonade please, thank you.” Chloe took a seat at the round oak table in the center of the kitchen.

“Nana, I’ll be upstairs. If you’ll excuse me Ms. Bolton, I’m just going to shower and change.” He retraced his steps down the hallway. Soon they heard the sounds of him running up the stairs.

Chloe sipped from the glass of iced lemonade Nana Lil sat before her, letting the cool sweetness wet her throat. “Fresh squeezed? It’s delicious.”

“Thank you kindly.” Lil sat in the chair across from Chloe. “So Vonnie ... I mean Devon, says you won’t be moving here permanently. I know Holtsville don’t compare to New York and all those other places you’ve been to, but it’s a good family-oriented place filled with hard-working people who
can
be a bit nosy at times. Plus, we take our family land very serious here and I know your grandparents would love for you to be living here on the land they worked so hard for. I would also love to get the chance to know my best friend’s only grandchild.”

Chloe nearly choked on her drink when Lil first started talking. “Devon said . . . what?”

Lil watched the other woman’s shocked expression. “Devon said you weren’t moving here permanently. Baby, you didn’t say that?”

Nana Lil had this way of calling a person “baby” that would soothe the soul, but Chloe was angry about his assumptions and nothing would pacify that. She’d never spoken to the man, so how could he be so presumptuous about what she would do? Or was he just a habitual, bold-faced liar? “Nana Lil, I did not say that because you see, I’m here to stay. Devon was ... mistaken.”

∞

Devon stepped out of the shower in the adjoining bathroom of his suite of rooms, which took up the entire third floor. The hot steam swirled around his naked, muscular form like a fog. Water trickled down his handsome, almost beautiful face, down to that little pocket of his collarbone, continuing down its wet journey to the deep valley between his hard, square chest. It followed the rugged, zig-zag pattern of his washboard abdomen to disappear in the ebony, curly bush of his groin.

She looked down her nose at your house, man,
he thought as he toweled dry. He remembered that little Miss Diva was downstairs in his living room. He had noticed how she looked around the living room when she first entered the house. He hated to see what hideous decorating would be done to the house when construction was complete. Visions of massive crystal chandeliers and garish furnishings caused him to shudder with disgust. Elissa had spoken of her own dreams of a mansion filled with glamour and servants. Devon laughed as he tried to imagine himself sitting and waiting for someone to bring him a glass of water, in his own home. Never! Not when he could get off his behind and get it for himself.

He wouldn’t be surprised if she did turn out to be one of those heroin-thin models. How could a woman survive being that thin? She couldn’t possibly eat, or worse yet she might eat and then force herself to vomit. Bulimia. Black women weren’t meant to be chocolate replicas of Twiggy, no matter how pretty the face. Well, okay, so maybe she wasn’t
that
thin but he liked a woman he could hold on to. Another lesson he learned about himself from his relationship with Elissa, who was also thin. In his opinion, Chloe Bolton would be much prettier if she gained fifteen or twenty pounds.

Whoa! He stopped his thoughts immediately. It shouldn’t...no, it
didn’t
matter to him what size she was, or how that related to the type of women he found himself attracted to.

“Vonnie ... I mean Devon. Deshawn’s pulling up in the yard.”

Nana Lil’s voice reached him faintly through the closed bedroom door. He walked naked to the hamper in his closet to toss in the gray towel he had been drying off with. He pulled out a casual outfit from the many clothes hanging in his walk-in closet. He was anxious to grab Deshawn and escort their beautiful client over to the office. The sooner they got this impromptu meeting over with, the sooner she would be back in place in her suite at the ritzy Grand Royale in Charleston. And the sooner that happened, the better!

∞

Deshawn maneuvered his gray Ford F-150 pickup truck, like his brother’s, to squeeze past the flashy red BMW in the driveway, to park in his usual spot, next to his brother. He eyed the vehicle before climbing the steps onto the porch and into the house.

He removed the hand-tailored lightweight Tommy Hilfiger navy blazer he wore, laying it on one of the two green leather recliners adjacent to the fireplace. He was so glad to take it off in the sweltering summer heat. His sweat-soaked back felt like someone had thrown a cup of water onto him. The only reason he had even gotten up and pulled on the monkey suit to go to church at all was to try and hook up with this pretty, dark-skinned girl that he saw there last week. Deshawn would go to
any
lengths for the sake of love, or was it lust? Well, whatever it was, he was determined.

“Nana Lil, whose car is that?” He yelled out.

“It’s mine.”

Deshawn looked up from his wrist, where he was removing his gold watch, to see the face that matched the soft, husky voice. He was
always
interested in meeting a new lady. He froze for a second and then laughed, “Damn ... oh, sorry. ’Cuse me, but you look just like—”

“Chloe Bolton, right?” She stepped forward, a soft smile on her lips, her delicate hand outstretched. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like Devon Jamison?”

He took her hand, enjoying the feel of her soft palm, inhaling the flowery scent of her perfume as he laughed at her joke. “Ha ... ha ... ha ... that’s funny.”

“Yeah, I thought it was.” Chloe laughed at his feigned sarcastic expression. “Anyway, I
am
Chloe Bolton. You must be Deshawn.”

Reluctantly, he released her hand, at a total loss for words. He considered himself a connoisseur of women, and this woman was truly ranked with a fine, exquisite wine. The best. As he looked directly into her smiling eyes, he gave her his most charming and irresistible smile. When she smiled in return he said a silent, “Thank you, Jesus!”

∞

They were identical, but Chloe saw the difference in their personalities immediately. This one’s eyes were bright, friendly and charming, unlike the brooding, angry looks of his brother. Instantly, she felt more comfortable around Deshawn, less on her guard.

Lil walked out of her bedroom, which was directly off the living room, holding a photo album. She sent him upstairs to get his brother and to change. Quickly she showed Chloe the few pictures of her grandparents in the album. Chloe gasped with pleasure at the pictures of her mother as a chubby, angel-faced toddler. Tears nearly spilled onto her cheeks when Lil gave her a small, faded picture of a younger and slimmer Adell, holding her as a baby, with both of her grandparents looking on lovingly.

Lil had been saddened by hearing the news of Adell’s passing from Chloe, and the picture had instantly popped into her memory. She knew Chloe would love it and she did. It was the only picture of both her mother and her grandparents that she’d seen. Moved beyond words, she could only whisper a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

Lil patted the younger woman’s hand to comfort her. “You will stay for dinner, Chloe?”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Chloe still attempted to decline. “No thank you. I wouldn’t want to intr—”

Lil waved a thin hand, prominent with large veins. “Child please, you need a good home-cooked meal. If you don’t get some meat on dem bones you’ll snap in half like a dried twig.”

Chloe smiled at the way Nana Lil sucked her teeth. She watched as she closed the photo album and moved back to the kitchen. The woman had more energy than the little pink bunny on those Energizer battery commercials. When Chloe followed her back into the kitchen, she found Lil mashing a pot of boiled and peeled potatoes with butter and milk. Her stomach betrayed her and growled in hunger . . . loudly.

“See there,” Lil waved her spoon in Chloe’s direction. “You hungry, girl.”

“Are you sure Deshawn ... or Devon won’t mind?”

The older woman threw a “say what?” expression over her shoulder. “This may be their house but since I moved back in here, I’ve been running this show. If Lil invites someone to this table, then they’re invited.”

Chloe looked down at her slim, gold Movado watch. It was three P.M. and her ride back to Charleston would take a half hour. She preferred to make the trip during daylight. Figuring that she still had plenty of time, and reluctant to leave, she accepted.

She offered her services to Nana Lil, but the elderly woman refused profusely with a hearty laugh. “Baby please, and have you break one of those nails in
my
gravy? No thank you, just drink your lemonade and relax.”

Chloe hid a smile behind her manicured hand. It was obvious that Lil thought she was inept in the kitchen. She didn’t bother to correct her. Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and Chloe knew, before turning around, that it was Devon who had walked up behind her. She looked over her right shoulder and their eyes met briefly before they both looked away.

He walked past where she sat to enter the kitchen. “Ms. Bolton, as soon as my brother comes downstairs we can all walk over to the office.” His tone was so professional and he was all business in his red polo T-shirt and baggy stonewashed jeans.

“Devon, Chloe accepted my invitation to dinner, which is ready. You’ll have to have your meeting after the eating is done.” Lil said this in a no-nonsense tone, as she sat heaping bowls of food on the table.

He whirled in shock to look at his grandmother and then whirled back, almost comically, to look at Chloe. She sat innocently sipping lemonade. Finally he turned back to Lil. “I’m sure Ms. Bolton has other plans that we don’t want to keep her from.”

She handed Chloe four warmed dinner plates to set out. “I’m sure she wouldn’t have accepted if she had other plans, Vonnie.”

“Devon,” he corrected, almost off-hand. “We don’t want to force Ms. Bolton to eat here.”

Each time Chloe opened her mouth to speak up for herself, one of them spoke first, acting as if she was not present. “I—”

“This girl needs a good home-cooked meal and she’ll get one today . . . right now . . . right here.”

Devon started to continue his unwarranted protests, but his grandmother shot him “the look” that let him know he was doing something she didn’t approve of. When Devon was a child “the look” would immediately cease all wrongdoing. Although it didn’t hold the same power now, he let his beliefs slide, knowing his grandmother would hate for him to argue with her. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could stomach Ms. High and Mighty forcing herself to eat their common food. Just because he was building her house didn’t mean he had to eat with her. Right? Right.

Chloe stood to set the plates on the table and silently wondered what his problem was. He was beginning to pluck her nerves with his assumptions. Yes, he was fine, but he was also turning out to be a pain.

He turned to face her, his handsome face expressionless and blank. “Ms. Bolton, I guess we will have to reschedule our meeting after all. I’ve made prior plans. Is that a problem for you?”

“If you’ve got plans, bro, go ahead. I’m sure I can . . . handle Ms. Bolton.” Deshawn stepped into the kitchen, obviously overhearing the conversation.

He winked at Chloe, and she instantly smiled in return. “Yes, Mr. Jamison. Don’t let me keep you from your plans. I’m more than confident that your brother can fill me in on all the details.”

Chloe pretended to dismiss him and took a platter of hot buttered biscuits out of Lil’s hands to set on the already crowded table. Deshawn took a seat and began to fill his plate. Lil stood over the sink, a glass of water in her hand, as she took her medicine. Each effectively ignored Devon.

He eyed the golden fried chicken longingly. His empty stomach yelled,
Sit down fool, you’re hungry.
Instead he left the kitchen through the back door.

Chloe watched him go and felt suddenly at ease enough to pick up the juicy piece of fried chicken with her fingers, instead of the knife and fork she had been using.

∞

Devon entered the restaurant with its dark green and maroon decor. He spoke to the patrons inside as he took a seat at a booth near the entrance. Donnie’s Diner had been around for twenty-five years and was a landmark in Holtsville. But if one were to pay attention to the dim interior, the grease-stained walls and ancient, chipped wood furnishings, one would think it was more than a century old. The little diner needed renovations ... badly, and Devon decided to try and persuade the owner/chef to allow Jamison’s to do the job, at a fair price. He was sure that if Donnie ever washed the walls, the building would fall apart because dirt and grease were truly its glue.

He looked around after he placed his order with the waitress, the voluptuous Poochie. The town’s portly white sheriff and one of his deputies were leaving with two take-out containers in a white plastic bag. To think, when Donnie first wanted to open the diner all those years ago, he had to get a petition with enough signatures before the all-white town council would allow the diner to open within town limits. It was the large black population that had supported him with signatures and patronage.