“I was just asking Micheline about Ernie,” Brad explained.
“He’s been acting like a real leech, practically trying to feel her up on the dance floor. I won’t have him harassing our guests, Suzanne.”
Suzanne took a moment to absorb the situation. She didn’t like the idea of Brad playing hero to Micheline’s damsel in distress. Micheline’s husband was here. Why didn’t she complain about Ernie’s behavior to Errol and leave Brad out of it?
“Calvin already complained to me about Ernie being all over Liloutie,” Brad continued. “I’ve had my eye on him ever since.”
That made Suzanne feel better. Brad wasn’t merely defending Micheline, but their friend Liloutie Braxton as well. But she was his wife, and she’d better get herself on the list of females he was defending. She knew one word from her would automatically put her at the top of the list. “Well, he held me closer than he should have when he danced with me,” she remarked. “I had to squirm to get out of his grasp.”
“That rips it.” Brad walked off in search of Ernie.
“Brad, wait!” He’d already started for the outdoor portion of the party area, taking long, purposeful strides, and Suzanne followed, glad to move away from Micheline. “I know he’s behaved badly,” she said quietly when she caught up to him, “but remember, he’s still a guest in our home. You don’t want to make a scene. I’d hate for Flo to be embarrassed.”
“Is that his wife?”
Suzanne knew the voice belonged to Micheline before she turned and saw her standing there. Damn it, why was she following them? Couldn’t she have five seconds for a few words with her own husband without Micheline planting herself in the middle of them? With superhuman effort, she refrained from scowling at her. “Yes, it is.”
“Poor thing. When I told him he has a wife to snuggle up to on the dance floor, he said they’ve been married a long time, intimating he’s tired of her.”
“Oh, my.” Suzanne looked to Brad.
“That’s just the type of no-count thing I’d expect him to say.” His face softened, and he placed a palm on Suzanne’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Suzie Q. I’m not going to make a scene. But Ernie and I are going to have a nice chat about the way he’s been acting.” He removed his hand and walked away.
“I’m sure everything will work out fine, Suzanne,” Micheline said. “Try not to worry.”
Suzanne ignored the reassurance and instead said, “Tell me something, Micheline. Did you complain to Brad about Ernie?”
“Not a word,” Micheline replied. “He came to me. Remember he said how he’d been keeping an eye on Ernie? He said he’d seen us dancing. I had to push him back and warn him a couple of times about his hands roaming all over my back.”
Now Suzanne remembered Brad saying he’d gone on alert after Calvin complained about Ernie, and while it made her feel better to know he wasn’t looking out for Micheline personally, she couldn’t help having a nasty thought. If you’d covered up a little, maybe Ernie wouldn’t have felt your back was open for exploration.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Kenya coming out of the powder room. “Excuse me, Micheline,” she said, glad to have an excuse to leave.
She rushed to her sister. “Kenya, are you all right? You look a little down.”
Kenya looked at her through red-rimmed eyes. “Gregory is seeing Paige. Now I know why he dumped me.”
“I’m so sorry, Kenya. I think it sucks that she brought him here.”
She sniffled. “I want to go home, Suzanne. Can you ask Derrick to drive me?”
“Sure. You go into the guest room, and I’ll get him. Don’t worry about Gregory, Kenya. He’s not the only man in Jacksonville.”
Kenya nodded, but she looked like she was about to burst into tears again.
“Go on, now. I’ll get Derrick.” Suzanne gave her sister a little push. She didn’t want anyone seeing Kenya look so defeated, especially Paige and Lisa. Surely Derrick’s date could spare him long enough to take his sister home. The rental house was so close he could be back within fifteen minutes.
Even as Paula posed for pictures with Devon, her practiced eye took in each action of her staff. Everyone seemed to be on their toes, even that lackadaisical maid who was substituting for the efficient Teresita. No wonder Suzanne was at her wit’s end with her. And she really should have told her to lose the gum, the way she chomped on it looked so unprofessional. But at least she was doing her job, clearing the drop stations of dirty plates and making sure that plenty of clean ones were available. A heavyset build and shuffling gait made her appear matronly, but Paula took a closer look and could see she was probably in her upper thirties or early forties at the most, not much younger than herself. There but for the grace of God go I, Paula thought. That could have been her, wearing a maid’s uniform and serving at a party instead of catering it and mingling with the guests. It was true that she’d worked hard, but she’d also been fortunate.
“Paula, smile already,” Lisa said with exasperation.
“Oops. Sorry.” Paula stopped watching the maid and did a quick survey. The buffet table looked tidy, nothing needed refilling, and a stack of clean white square stoneware plates and folded white cloth napkins awaited anyone wanting to fix a snack. She smiled for the camera, her arm around her daughter.
Paula was so proud of Devon. She’d blossomed into a lovely young woman, as kind and generous as she was beautiful. In Paula’s opinion, Devon was much more grounded than her stepsister, the somewhat spoiled Paige. The two girls grew up together, Lisa and Darrell having met when they were preschoolers, but while Darrell was careful not to overindulge Devon, Brad Betancourt had imposed no such restrictions when it came to Paige and had given her just about everything.
They changed places, and Paula tried to ignore the pain in her heart as she focused the camera on Lisa and Darrell flanking Devon and Paige. With Paige looking like Lisa and Devon resembling Darrell, anyone looking at them posing would assume Lisa had given birth to fraternal twin daughters.
Paula knew that Lisa deserved as much credit as Darrell for the fine way Devon had turned out. When she accepted a marketing position in Dallas, all parties involved, including Devon herself, agreed it would be best if Devon continued to live with Darrell, Lisa, and her half brothers. The plan had been for Devon to visit Paula frequently, but then Paula fell in love with Andre Haines, a man seven years her junior. Andre’s parents were anxious to have grandchildren, and she allowed him to talk her into telling them and everyone else that she was ten years younger than her actual age to quell any doubts his parents might have about her ability to conceive. Paula went along, and that marked the beginning of the estrangement between Paula and Devon, for Paula, who’d been twenty-two when she had Devon, could not present Devon, then sixteen, as her daughter after claiming to be twenty-eight. Devon resented her mother’s denial, and although mother and daughter managed a tentative reconciliation after the situation exploded along with the marriage, Paula’s place in Devon’s heart had been lost to Lisa, whom she now called “Mom.” She doubted she would ever get it back.
Paula had accepted the effect her regrettable behavior had on her relationship with her only child, although it still hurt and always would. She knew she had no one to blame but herself for agreeing to Andre’s crazy scheme. Not only did she miscarry her second child, but her second marriage failed. She publicly stated that she was through with marriage, but her secret wish—one that she’d never shared with anyone—was to have a third chance at marriage and a second chance to raise a child.
Fat chance of that happening. After her miscarriage, her