One Better Page 19

  “Two thousand dollars! A year’s suspension!”

  “It’s happened before,” Otis mumbled.

  “So you know about another arrest Sterling was involved in, and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

  “I thought it best. It was a while ago, Spice.”

  “How dare you,” she said, and slammed down the receiver.

  She opened her bedroom door and went out to the balcony. Her hands trembled. The cold April breeze calmed her, felt good against her tear-streaked face. She fixed her eyes on the willow trees bordering Paint Creek, just showing their early buds. Dewdrops still glistened on the grass, and the young foliage smelled of rain. In the distance she could hear the fresh, clean, newly thawed cold water rushing down the ravine from Clinton River and flowing into Paint Creek. Spice turned and went back inside.

  I love her so. When her tiny little fists were like orchids yet to open, baby hair soft and silken, her eyes shone with such spirited gleam, I loved her so. Yet, Lord, something is missing, and I feel this terrible pain. She’s still only a child, not capa ble of understanding the sorrow she brings. How can I make my child understand?

  Now Spice, still in her truck, punched in Mink’s number on her cellular phone.

  “Hi. Mink?” she said, forgetting the cranes and trucks when she heard her daughter’s voice. “You sound terrible.” From the hoarseness still evident in Mink’s voice, Spice knew that her daughter had been crying. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Where’s Azure?”

  “She’s in the backyard playing with Jelly.”

  “Has Dwight been to see her lately?”

  Mink’s tone was sharp. “Why?”

  “I just wondered.”

  “Look, you have no idea what I’m going through. Your marriage to David was perfect. I’m facing total ruin here. My husband has a bastard child out there.” Her voice began to rise. “How am I supposed to explain to Azure she has a brother? Should I hide it? Pretend that he isn’t here? Make him disappear?”

  “Mink—”

  “I’m sorry, Spice, I’ve tried to forgive Dwight, but I can’t. I’m going to divorce him.”

  “You’re moving too fast. You need more time to think.”

  “Fuck him,” Mink said, more tears in her voice. “I’ve gotta go, Spice. I’ll talk to you another time. Bye.”

  Spice turned back to the disheartening sight of the wrecking ball destroying her dreams. When she thought of Carmen, Mink, Sterling, and herself, she felt as though they were all bundled together, their lives being battered and turned to dust.

  Foxphasia had also been David’s dream. What would he do? Then she remembered.

  Stored in the bottom drawer of David’s cherrywood desk was a list of individuals and corporations he had approached when he’d first purchased the Foxphasia property in Royal Oak. Coded beside each name was the dollar amount they had committed to the project. If her memory served her right, at least three of the twenty had been willing to put up $5 million. True, the list was now five years old, and the commitment had been made to David, but she was certain she could convince enough of them to agree to raise the $18 million she needed to finish Foxphasia.

  With the challenge of her future at stake, she started the engine and headed home.

  * * *

  Glorious nature had blessed the grounds of Southern Spice that second week in April. Spice watched as Dwight worked meticulously, making sure every blossom was at its greatest splendor for the big event, the April tea, which would take place in a few days. Seven years ago on this very day, Mink and Dwight had met. Spice had hired the young, ambitious landscaper, betting on his innovative garden design ideas.

  Each year he had added to the grace and opulence of the garden setting. And since so many influential people from the city would witness his work, this event had become Dwight’s best opportunity for acquiring his most affluent customers.

  Spice continued to marvel at Dwight’s gift for invention. One day last year, while he was working on his plans, Azure had asked why there couldn’t be more water. Following his daughter’s suggestion, Dwight drew the plans for two water gardens to go on the east end of Southern Spice’s four-acre grounds. Both would feed from Paint Creek and be visible from three sides of the restaurant. When he presented the new idea to Spice, she’d been ecstatic.

  Before long, two fifty-by-seventy-foot circles were dug on each side of the central walkway. The ponds were filled with hyacinths, water lilies, Japanese koi, and goldfish. Later, Dwight had added ducks as well.

  Throughout the past week Spice had watched Dwight from the window of her apartment. Of the seven days he’d been there, Azure had accompanied him on five. Spice knew he must be distraught at the split of his family. It was so clear that he loved his daughter. And what about Mink? Their conversation the other day still rang in Spice’s ears.

  “Come here, baby,” Dwight called after Azure, seeing that she was getting too close to the edge of the water garden.

  “Wait, Daddy. Jelly wants a drink.” She tried to pull the puppy back from the water by his stomach.

  Dwight whistled for the dog. “Here, boy.” Jelly, ears pointed, backed away from the water.

  Azure followed after the puppy as Jelly Jam raced toward his master. Spice came downstairs to join them.

  “Hi, Grandma!” Azure said in her sweet voice.

  “Hi, Baby-Z.”

  “We’re nearly finished for the day, Spice,” Dwight told her.

  “Can you stop in my office a minute before you leave?”

  “I’ve got to get Baby-Z home. It’s time for her dinner.”

  “She can eat—” Spice stopped herself.

  They both knew that Dwight would not eat the fatty entrées at the restaurant, nor had he allowed Mink to dine on Southern Spice’s rich meals. He was a staunch health nut, and there wasn’t anything to say about it. His daughter would not eat the restaurant’s cholesterol-packed foods.

  Dwight’s white Blazer was a few yards away, already packed with all his equipment. “Take Jelly to the truck, Baby-Z,” Dwight said, patting her head gently.

  Spice knew that Dwight would be within his rights if he took Mink before the judge for contempt of court. Not once, during their month of separation, had she allowed Dwight to see his daughter. Mink had no right to keep Azure from seeing her father, so she’d arranged for Erma to leave Azure with her when Mink was flying. And she made sure Azure saw her father during those times.

  “It was weeks since I’d seen Azure before you arranged these visits. I want to thank you, Spice, for letting me spend this time with my daughter. Mink won’t talk with me right now.”

  “That’s what I wanted to see you about. I’m concerned about her. She seems so different—”

  He stared out into the grounds for a few moments before speaking. “She is different.”

  Spice could see the muscles tensing in her son-in-law’s jaw. “Don’t give up on her, Dwight. I don’t want to pry into your personal business, but Mink is not herself. Lately she’s just somewhere else. That’s so unlike her.”

  “I know.”

  “And she’s forgetting things. When I mention something we discussed, she doesn’t remember it. Like she can’t keep her mind on anything.”

  “I’ve tried talking with her. She won’t listen. She keeps telling me she needs more time. But how much time am I supposed to give her?”

  “I can’t answer that question. Only you and Mink can.”

  Reuben, Dwight’s assistant, who’d been working on the topiary greens on another part of the grounds, signaled to Dwight that he was finished.

  “Thanks again,” Dwight said to Spice before leaving.

  As Spice watched Dwight walk away, she wondered if her daughter was thinking about her little baby at all. Left only with Erma, Azure seemed confused and frightened. Suddenly she thought of Carmen, wishing she were nearby to ask her friend’s advice. How Spice needed Carmen now.
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br />   * * *

  Spice had made dinner reservations for two at the Whitney Mansion on Woodward Avenue. Starting in March, “Hi-Falutin’ Garden Parties” were held each Wednesday night, and Spice thought it would be a wonderful setting for her and Golden.

  The exotic plants that covered the grounds were already in bloom, and Spice knew that the music, by David Potterman and Friends, would be engaging. Golden’s timing entering her life at this point couldn’t have been better. His gentleness, his patience, had given her the strength to cope when her world was falling apart. Whenever she was around him she felt more energetic, invigorated. That energy, that patience, was part of the reason for her attraction to Golden—she fed off his strength.

  Spice tapped her foot to the beat. Not sure if a preacher danced, especially in public, she wondered if she and Golden would ever get to enjoy that particular ritual. As the soothing music flowed around them, Spice watched Golden’s animated face. When a song came to an end, Golden applauded the band and then turned back to look at her. Spice didn’t miss the smile on his face.

  They sat for a while, drinking coffee, not saying a word to each other, just listening to the music and nodding every now and then. Golden set down his empty cup and turned to look into Spice’s eyes. He took her hands in his. “I love you, Spice.”

  “What?” Despite their close mood, his words truly caught her off guard.

  “Yes, and it feels so right.”

  She felt his voice enveloping her, felt his understanding and compassion. He wasn’t judging her, as David sometimes had done in silence.

  “But we’ve spent so little time. You haven’t touched me. We’ve never—” She blushed.

  He caressed her hand and gently covered it with his. “I just know I love you.”

  Spice felt as if her body were made of butter, and she was melting, melting. “When did you know?” she said breathlessly, uplifted by the moment.

  Golden closed his eyes. “Just now, when I felt you slip inside of me.”

  Her body felt as if it had taken flight, like a light, fluffy, floating cloud, and then she felt him. Felt the transfer of his love pouring into her.

  The realization of who she was, who she had been, and what he represented awakened her like a pail of cold water thrown in her face.

  Spice remembered the first time that she’d heard his voice on the tape: “God is love. God is truth. They are all connected. If you are a liar, love is not for you.”

  Love is not for you.

  No, she thought. It had to be. She wanted love with Golden, and that meant she had to tell him everything. “Golden, I have a past,” she said flatly.

  “I’m interested in what you are now, and not what you’ve been. We’ve always been something before in our lifetime if we’ve lived long enough. Everyone in the world is recovering from something.”

  “I wasn’t in love with David when we married.” She had to start somewhere; for some reason she wanted Golden to understand about David. About the way she grew to love him and why.

  Golden listened with a calm, patient smile.

  “Although I found love with him as our marriage grew, I didn’t realize how much I loved him until he died. Since then, I’ve been afraid of another emotional commitment. I don’t want to get too close. I don’t want to be hurt again by a person whose love controls me.” She paused and looked into his eyes. “It’s scary for another person to have that kind of power over you.” He touched her hand, and Spice held her breath.

  She was talking not just about David, but about Sterling as well. How she hurt because of their being apart. Turning her head to the music, she listened to the band for a moment, then added in a dry tone, “I don’t want to lead you on. I want you to understand. I’ve been betrayed by love. I’m not going to rush into it again.”

  “The God that is in me recognizes that in you,” Golden said, kissing her powder soft hands. “And I’m ready to help you take a chance. I’m ready for you to take a chance on me.” The smooth and gentle tone of his voice lapped over her like a warm tide. “I know that I’ve been trying to find and reembrace my other half for years. I’ve waited and I’ve found that person, and that person is you, Spice.”

  Later, as Golden drove her home, Spice couldn’t think of what to say to him. She sat back in her seat and smiled, inhaling the love that had perfumed the night. She just wanted to enjoy the moment. But soon, thoughts from the past invaded her consciousness.

  How much should she tell him? How much would he really want to know?

  As if reading her thoughts, he said, “One day, I’d like to take the time to read with you Mary Magdalene’s story.”

  She was stunned. “Mary Magdalene?”

  “History says Magdalene was a prostitute. But I don’t believe it. She was just a woman in pain. I think it will help you. You will gain an understanding of true love, life, and strife, and what it means to be alone and suffer. I think you’ll enjoy the honesty of her life.”

  They pulled up outside her home, and Spice asked Golden to come upstairs. In the intimacy of her kitchen, she offered him a mug of hot chocolate.

  “I wasn’t always saved,” he told her. “I was a troubled youth with a bad attitude from a broken home. I rebelled against my mother. In my teens, I got into trouble with the police and spent time in jail for possession. Fortunately, my mother took every dime she had and sent me away to college. I had no friends. All I cared about was survival. I learned how to push myself and, finally, excelled. I earned a scholarship, and when I received my degree in theology from Oxford, my mother was there.”

  “Oxford, in England?”

  “The same.”

  “My Oxford Odd Fellow. It’s so hard to believe, Golden. You seem to have yourself so together. I would never have thought . . .”

  “That I was human? That I am a man? I am.”

  “No, I’m sorry. Most people think of pastors as—well—perfect saviors. We know they aren’t, but we want to believe that they are superhuman examples for us to follow.”

  He pressed his warm hands against her face.

  Did he feel as she felt? she wondered. She wanted him to pull her close to him, kiss her tender lips. Is he feeling what I’m feeling now? “Thank you, Golden Westbrook, for coming into my life. Only God knows how much I needed a man of your strength in my life right now.”

  For five years Spice had denied herself personal happiness. During those years her wealth had soared. Money, she knew, even before Sterling brought it to her attention, was a poor substitute for love.

  “God knew, and he whispered softly in my ear, ‘She’s the one for you.’ That’s why I’m here.”

  “It’s destiny,” Spice whispered. “That it is.” Suddenly she heard a noise and turned toward the door. Her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth as she saw Otis standing in the doorway.

  Wearing a demonic expression on his face, Otis demanded, “What the hell is he doing here?”

  Spice jumped up. “How did you get in?”

  “I’ve always had a key. David gave it to me.”

  “Do you want me to leave?” Golden asked Spice.

  “No. Otis is leaving. And leave your keys on the table. Never mind, I’ll just change the locks.”

  “You’re making a big mistake, Spice,” Otis said, staring at Golden.

  Spice led Otis to the elevator in the foyer. “I’m trying to maintain my relationship with you. I know you’re concerned about me, and I appreciate it, but I need my privacy.”

  “I was wrong. Forgive me for caring so much about you,” Otis said spitefully.

  Spice swallowed her tears as she watched the elevator doors close on Otis’s saddened face.

  When she reentered her home, Golden was making a fire. He turned and smiled at her.

  Spice tossed a log onto the fire and smiled at Golden. She knew that she’d made the right decision.

  OTIS

  Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they
have never failed to imitate them.

  —JAMES BALDWIN

  F uck no,” Otis said, hitting the cocktail table with his fist. “I’m not going to accept this bullshit.” Rolling his eyes at his phone, he picked it up and pushed redial. After the third ring, the answering machine came on. Angry, he hung up.

  He was stretched out on the sofa in his living room, the remote control in one hand and a tumbler of Hennessy in the other. For the next two hours he dozed, glimpsing snippets of the fights on HBO. With each punch one opponent struck, he felt his headache pounding. A part of him felt like knocking some sense into Spice.

  Moving to the kitchen for a dose of two double-strength Tylenol, he thought of Spice again. He couldn’t help but respect her. She’d been firm in her convictions about their relationship, even though they both knew she cared for him. She couldn’t be led easily, and he’d always liked that about her—even when she was married to David. Somehow he had to make her understand what they could share together.

  “I don’t want to lose our friendship, Otis,” Spice had said.

  He wanted now to tell her, “Friends make better lovers! Some couples never reach the level of relationship that we’ve shared over the years.”

  His first wife had died in childbirth, along with his son, twenty-five years ago. Since then he hadn’t found a woman strong enough, until he met Spice—who at the time was married to his brother.

  Happiness is difficult to find and even harder to hold on to. After his wife died, he was nearly immobilized by depression. It was not possible for him to find even temporary pleasure in the arms of other women.

  Immersing himself in his work hadn’t helped. Buying cars, taking vacations, and hoarding money in the bank hadn’t worked, either. What Otis realized was that up until now, he hadn’t been able to express correctly to Spice how much he truly cared for her. What had begun years ago as an infatuation had blossomed into mature love.

  Catching sight of his reflection in the TV screen, dressed in silver blue shadow-striped silk pajama bottoms, he flicked off the set and went into the bedroom. He reached inside his dresser drawer and removed a small box. Inside was a size seven and a half, six-carat princess-cut diamond ring. It sparkled even in the dark. He’d purchased the ring for Spice this past year while he was vacationing in Senegal. He’d planned on proposing marriage on Christmas Day.