When Perfection Fails (5 page)

Lenora had tried in vain to convince herself the texts were meant for someone else. Maybe the lines had crossed and the person asking about Keith was a well-meaning soul who knew her family. When she compared the number from the text on Thursday to the number from the text on Saturday, they were two very different numbers. When she called both numbers, they seemed to be dead ends.

That's when her mind went back to the pale-eyed man she saw and went looking for on Thursday. The way he'd disappeared still puzzled Lenora. She had been exhausted from the funeral, but could a person dream someone into existence? Why was his face so familiar to her?

Lenora's thoughts were interrupted by Michael walking into the kitchen. Her youngest son dropped his bag on the floor and headed straight to the refrigerator.

She frowned. “Hello to you too.” Both of her sons were tall. Having two tall parents helped.

Michael grabbed the carton of orange juice and sat down at the table.

Lenora raised her eyebrow. “You
are
planning to get a glass from the cabinet, right?”

He grinned and got up to get a glass.

As Lenora watched her son pour the juice, she casually asked, “Do you ever get strange numbers on your cell phone?”

Michael shrugged. “Yeah, all the time. Sometimes it's just a telemarketer.”

“I know you watch a lot of crime shows. How can someone get away with making a call or text without letting you know their identity?”

Michael grinned. “Wow, Mom. What are you up to?”

She swatted at him and returned the smile. “Nothing, I'm just getting these strange calls, and I would like to know who is calling or texting me.”

“Well, people can get burner phones.”

“What's a burner phone? Sounds pretty high tech.”

“Naw. Go to the store, buy a prepaid phone, use your minutes, and text. Then throw it in the trash.”

“Oh, okay.” Lenora frowned. So this person took the time to use a burner phone to contact her. As she pondered the thought, the phone rang in her hand. Lenora jumped and almost dropped the phone. She peered down at the phone, and then let out a deep sigh.

Lenora looked at her son, “Well, I know who this is.” It wasn't someone she looked forward to talking to at the moment, but she answered the call dutifully.

About an hour later, Lenora rang the doorbell to a familiar house from her teenage years. She wasn't sure why she was summoned here, but the urgency in an old friend's voice motivated Lenora to get in her car and drive over. She figured it didn't hurt to reach out and be a friend. Lord knows, how many times she'd been disappointed by her willingness to be available.

The door opened, and the woman leaned up against the door frame and folded her arms. “It's been awhile, Lenora. I was starting to think we had stopped being friends again.”

Lenora raised her eyebrow as she eyed Charmayne Hudson. “Hello, Charmayne. It's good to see you too. You seem to only want to be in touch when something's wrong.” This time Lenora folded her arms. “What's the problem?”

“Girl, get in here. I can't believe you would say such a thing.”

Before crossing the doorway, Lenora smirked. “There's been a pattern that's not easy to ignore.”

Lenora stepped into the house Charmayne grew up in, but had since remodeled. She noted that Charmayne didn't waste any time in putting her imprint on the home since the death of her last living parent late last year.

While she kept in touch with Charmayne, Lenora had kept her distance as an adult. She hadn't talked to Charmayne since high school graduation until ten years ago. When she had opened Lenora's Bridal Boutique, she had no idea one of the first customers would be Charmayne.

Unfortunately, after months of planning the wedding, Charmayne never walked down the aisle. To this day, Lenora was not provided reasons why Charmayne chose to break off a wedding with a man who loved her, and to Lenora's knowledge, had captured Charmayne's heart.

Lenora followed Charmayne into the living room. Charmayne reached for a wineglass off of the coffee table. When Charmayne turned around, Lenora almost ran into the wineglass.

“Oh!” Lenora stepped back to flick some of the wine that had sloshed on her coat.

“I'm so sorry. At least you are wearing a black coat.” Charmayne drained the wineglass. “Speaking of black, I know your family is in mourning. How's Jonathan? And Mrs. Eliza? When I saw Pastor Jeremiah had passed, it brought back so many memories of Daddy for me.”

Lenora cleared her throat. “Jonathan is fine. You know Eliza bounces back from anything. I figured that's why we didn't see you at the funeral last Thursday.”

Charmayne shifted her eyes away. “I'm sorry. I couldn't. I feel like I let you both down because you have been so supportive of me. I do remember you both being at Bishop Hudson's world famous home going.” Charmayne lifted her empty wineglass in the air as if she was toasting her late father. “I certainly do miss you, Daddy.”

Lenora remembered very well the turnout for the bishop's funeral. While there was a large turnout for Pastor Jeremiah, there were several well-known celebrities and legislators who showed up to wish final good-byes to the man who had been a force to reckon with since his days in the civil rights arena.

She also knew Charmayne really didn't miss the late great Bishop Hudson. Their father-daughter relationship might have appeared perfect to the public, but Lenora had witnessed a long history of intimidation and resentment between Charmayne and her father.

“I hope this doesn't make me look bad to you. I really couldn't deal with another funeral. I mean, are you and Jonathan going to support my run for District 2 again?” Charmayne added, “I hope you will.”

“I'm sure Jonathan wouldn't mind letting you speak before the congregation. You seem to be doing well, and obviously, you enjoy the public service work.” Lenora frowned. “Is this why you called me over? You seemed really upset on the phone . . .” Lenora pointed to the wineglass, “and stressed.”

Charmayne snapped. “Well, I am stressed. You know having Victory Gospel Church behind me would mean a lot. The bishop's former congregation, Greater Heights, is ecstatic that I'm running again. Which is why I'm confused by the rumors.”

“Rumors? What rumors?” Lenora couldn't resist adding. “Who would start rumors about Bishop William Hudson's daughter?”

Charmayne stared coolly at Lenora. “Really? Not funny. You, of all people, know how desperately I would like to not live in my daddy's shadow.” Charmayne walked over to the bar in the corner of her living room. Lenora was pretty sure the bar was a part of the add-ons to the house. It wasn't there when they were younger.

She followed Charmayne over to the bar and set her purse down. “Seriously, Charmayne, people respect that you stand on your own merit.”

Charmayne picked up an expensive-looking bottle of wine from behind the counter. As she poured, most of the liquid spilled over the side of the glass. “Oh my!” She placed the bottle down and reached down again. This time she had a roll of paper towels in her hand. She snatched several towels from the roll and began wiping the counter.

“My stuffy, religious, fire-breathing daddy wanted to make sure his agenda or whoever he had in his pocket had their agenda satisfied. Not everyone liked him.” She stopped wiping the counter and added under her breath, “Including me.”

Charmayne picked up the dripping red-soaked towels and slammed them into the nearby trash can. She pointed to Lenora, and then back at herself. “Now me and you, I know we don't stay in touch like we could, but I never thought you would become my enemy. How can you come up here and lie in my face anyway?”

An old angry feeling shot through Lenora's body. She grabbed her bag off the counter and stared at Charmayne. She kept her voice low. “Excuse me. What are you accusing me of this time? I don't have time for whatever paranoid thoughts you have going on in your head. I need to be with my family.”

Charmayne marched around the bar and jabbed her finger toward Lenora. “Your husband is going to ruin my career goals. This council seat is mine. It's a steppingstone to me being mayor of Charlotte. I've worked too hard for this opportunity for someone to just stand in my way, especially with no political experience.”

Lenora blinked. “You have always been ambitious, but why would you accuse Jonathan of standing in your way?”

Charmayne huffed and placed her hands on her hips and stared at Lenora. “Don't pretend to me like you don't know.”

Lenora gripped her bag tighter. She had a vision of swinging it to knock some sense into Charmayne's rant.

Charmayne stepped back, and then she threw her head back and laughed. She shook her head, and then cupped her hands over her mouth. “You don't know?”

Lenora hated Charmayne's laugh. She sounded like a witch cackling.

“I'm leaving. I can't believe I came over for this nonsense. You need to stop drinking. You want someone to support you? It won't be me anymore. This is the last time you reach out to me. I'm through with you.” Lenora turned to walk away.

Charmayne traipsed behind her as she headed to the door. Like a little child, she sang.
“There must be trouble in paradise. The darling couple of Victory Gospel Church has secrets. Who knew?”

Lenora whirled and shouted, “What are you babbling about?”

No one made her crazier than Charmayne. Why did she continuously get sucked into this relationship? She didn't owe this woman a thing, but in the strangest way, Lenora had always felt sorry for Charmayne.

Right now, Charmayne stood a tad bit too close for Lenora's taste. Lenora wasn't wearing heels, but she still had two inches of height over her friend. “Back up, Charmayne.”

Charmayne took a step back. “I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you, but your husband is in cahoots with the mayor. He's thinking about running against me for the District 2 seat. Apparently he doesn't share everything with you, or maybe he was waiting for the right time. I don't really care, but I would like you to advise your husband that he needs to tend to the business of his church and leave the politics to me.”

Lenora's mother had gone to glory ten years ago, but she held fast to her mother's rule to not say a word if you can't say something nice.

She stared at Charmayne. “I'm leaving now, let me out.”

Charmayne unlatched the locks on the door.

Lenora moved past her and quietly said, “Good-bye, Charmayne.”

As she walked down the driveway, she ignored Charmayne calling out her name. For some odd reason, Charmayne lost her mind and forgot they both were grown women. When they were younger, Charmayne had to control the friendship and being the sheltered girl she was, Lenora followed.

Not anymore. This time, Lenora meant it. She didn't need to be disrespected by a woman who, time and time again, she'd been there for—both good and bad. Where was the reciprocity in their relationship?

As Lenora opened the door to her Lexus, her mind switched to the man she had married. She knew her husband. Next to Charmayne, Jonathan was the most ambitious person she knew. Long before Jonathan took over the church for his father, he had dreams.

She slammed the car door shut and hit the steering wheel. Lenora couldn't understand why she seemed to be the last person to know about a possible decision that could be the final straw of their marriage.

Serena threw her hands up and shot out her question, “What about the Hudson Housing Development? You, Mayor Carrington, were really looking forward to that funding being approved before, but you don't approve now when you did a few months ago. Why not? What changed?”

Mayor Carrington eyed Serena. “That funding would be better suited to other projects here in Charlotte, in particular, transportation.”

Despite the other reporters around her, Serena glared at Mayor Carrington. Knowing she had his full attention, she continued her badgering. “But the Hudson Housing Development has been on the city council's agenda for many years now. Bishop William Hudson was an important civil rights leader, not just in that district, but in the city and state. Are you planning not to honor the wishes of this great man and for all that he fought for during his life?”

The mayor looked like he wanted to walk from behind the podium and strangle her. The room grew quiet as he shuffled his papers. He reached for the microphone and started to speak, but then shut his mouth. Mayor Carrington finally responded with a strained voice.

“Ms. Manchester, we all loved Bishop Hudson and what he did for Charlotte. We have had much funding appropriated to several housing developments the past few years and now it's time to invest in transportation. It's vital to this rapidly growing city.”

“But—”

Mayor Carrington glared at her. “Ms. Manchester, I believe you have asked enough questions. Please let someone else have a turn.”

Not to be put in her place, Serena pounced back. “Well, I'm sure everyone here has the same questions that I have. I mean, it's known that there is a split on the council right now and with it being an election year, the people need to know where you and other council members stand on this issue.”

The mayor gripped the sides of the podium. “There are some disagreements, but we are dedicated to making the right decisions for the city that we serve.”

A host of reporters suddenly held up their hands and began to shout questions.

Mayor Carrington said, “This press conference has come to close. Thank you for attending.” He walked away from the podium, leaving the unanswered questions lingering in the air.

Serena smirked. “Just like a politician, never giving all the facts . . . or the truth, for that matter.” She placed her notepad and phone in her bag. Inside her bag was the folder Lance Ryan gave her.

Now that man was a complete mystery. She looked up information about Lance, but the man was nowhere to be found. This disturbed her a bit, but she couldn't deny the spreadsheet numbers were suspicious. There was a great deal of financial support thrown toward the Hudson Housing Development. It seemed strange that it remained on hold. Serena looked up to see a woman walking fast down the hall.

Serena smiled. “Well, maybe I might be seeking out the wrong person for answers.” She grabbed her bag and quickly headed down the hall behind the woman. The woman wore black pumps and was dressed businesslike in a blue suit fit with a white shirt. Her black trench coat was thrown over her arm. The woman leaned over and pressed the button on the elevator. The doors instantly opened.

Serena caught up to her and sprinted in the elevator. As she turned around, Serena caught her breath. Right outside the elevator on the other side of the hallway was Lance Ryan. For a half second, Serena tried to figure if she should get off or stay on the elevator.

She had a lot of questions for her elusive source. Who was he and what was his true interest?

The doors closed, sealing Serena's decision. She looked over at the woman who was grooming her short hair in the elevator's mirror.

Serena said, “I love that new cut on you. I was thinking about cutting my hair shorter.”

The woman turned and frowned. Then she smiled and said, “Thank you.”

Serena smiled. “You know you are just the person I wanted to talk to, that is, if you have time, Ms. Hudson.”

Charmayne Hudson continued to smile, but her eyes narrowed slightly as she observed Serena. “What did you want to talk to me about? It's Ms. Manchester, correct?”

Serena held out her hand. “Yes, Serena Manchester from WYNN.”

Charmayne returned the handshake.

Serena plowed forward. “I would really like to know what's happened with the Hudson Housing Development. Your father, bless his heart, wasn't it his dream?”

Charmayne looked away. “Yes, it was. Why don't we talk in my office?”

Serena smiled. “Sounds good!”

The two women waited in silence until the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Serena followed behind Charmayne to her office. Once inside, Charmayne closed the door. “Please have a seat, Ms. Manchester.”

“You can call me Serena. No need to be formal.” Serena sat down in the cushy seat across from the old oak desk as she watched Charmayne place her bag beside her desk, and then sit. Charmayne sat forward in her chair and clasped her hands together. “So what exactly do you want to know, Serena?”

“Your father, the late great Bishop Hudson, fought for this housing development for years. By the way, I want to pass on my condolences about his passing. It was right before the holidays, correct?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Such a shame, and with the passing of Pastor Jeremiah Freeman just last week . . . We are losing some really solid leaders in the African American community. I'm just delighted to see you making your place here in Charlotte.”

“Well, thank you. That's not always recognized. It's hard to be the daughter of a bishop, but I do want to make sure the funding goes forward on this housing development. Many people who attend Greater Heights Church as well as Victory Gospel Church would benefit.”

Serena had pulled out her notepad and recorder. “That's what I thought. I mean, with this growing population, I can understand the mayor and other members of the council wanting to focus on transportation.”

Charmayne looked at the recorder. “I don't disagree with the mayor, but people need a place to make home. Are you recording this?”

“Do you mind?” Serena asked.

“I'm not sure why we need to. You just wanted a statement from me, I presume. I want to seek funding for housing, but transportation seems to be more important. That's all.”

Serena continued to hold the recorder. “But there was a considerable amount of money raised by Bishop Hudson. How does that money play a role in this project?”

Charmayne sat back in her seat. “Yes, there was money raised, but we are talking about a massive construction project here. That money wouldn't cover the budget.”

“Do you have figures on how much money was raised over the years?”

Charmayne frowned. “Why?”

“Well, I think Mayor Carrington is holding the position that you don't need taxpayers' dollars. I just wondered why he was taking that position now.” Serena moved up in her chair. “I could be wrong on this, but Mayor Carrington seemed to support the Hudson Housing Development until your father's death.”

Serena observed Charmayne clench her hand into a fist. For a brief instance, Serena recognized the real woman behind the couture suit, makeup, and sculptured cut was not a woman you wanted to cross.

Serena waited as Charmayne composed herself.

“I don't know why Mayor Carrington is taking the position he has and why he has turned his back on my father's dream. He and I just don't see eye to eye on many things.”

Serena nodded. “You wouldn't mind allowing me to see the donation records? I mean, so we can come down to a reason why the Hudson Housing Development is on hold. The people will want to know.”

Charmayne tapped her fingers on the desk. “Sure, this office has nothing to hide. I can ask my assistant to pull those records.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hudson.” Serena stood and extended her hand. “It was a pleasure talking to you. I do admire you. When you were elected for your first term, I recall you were the youngest African American woman ever elected to the city council. Do you plan to seek a fourth term this coming November, or are you ready to throw your hat in the mayor's race?”

Charmayne stood. “The people seem to think I've been doing a good job in District 2.”

“So you are going to stay where you are? You don't know of anyone who plans to throw their hat into the race, do you? Being the incumbent, you received over 60 percent of the votes the last two terms.”

Charmayne took a bit too long to smile, almost like she was thinking as she was trying to figure out what to say. “I'm not aware of anyone, and like I said, the people are satisfied with my public service.”

“I will be looking for those records. Thank you so much for your time.”

Serena walked out and headed to the elevator. Something was going on here. Mayor Carrington didn't want to move the Hudson Housing Development forward for a reason. She had photos from the last mayor's race to prove that the mayor and Bishop Hudson were good friends. What changed after Bishop Hudson's death? Why did the bishop's daughter seem to be insecure about her future?

The elevator doors opened, and Serena entered. Before the doors closed, a hand grabbed the inside of the doors. Startled, Serena watched as Lance entered the elevator.

The doors closed behind him as he focused his intense eyes on her. He stepped up beside her. “Did Ms. Hudson give you what you wanted?”

Serena swallowed. She was a tough chick, but this man was standing way too close even for her comfort. She answered, “She said she would get the records to me.”

Lance scoffed. “What she gives you, I'm pretty sure, those numbers will be altered from the records I gave you.”

Serena cocked her head. “How do I know whose numbers to believe? You never told me what providing this information does for you.”

“I have nothing to lose, Ms. Manchester. There are some people here who have an image of being perfect, holy, and righteous.”

Lance stepped even closer to her now, brushing his arm up against her arm. Serena had smelled a hint of his cologne and it almost suffocated her.

“There are those who seek to establish their own righteousness.”

Serena stared into Lance's eyes, almost forgetting to breathe. The one thing she could not stand was religious mumbo jumbo. Lance really believed whatever he was talking about, which made him crazier than he looked.

The elevator doors opened. As quickly as he entered, Lance exited and moved through the crowd outside the doors. A man entered and asked, “Are you getting off?”

Serena shook her head, “No, not yet.” This was her second meeting with Lance Ryan, and the man always left her feeling the need to catch her bearings. This story spelled of city corruption, but her gut sensed there was more, and if she didn't tread carefully, she would burn bridges she could never mend.