“Sounds...fascinating. Excuse me for a moment.” Farrah walked toward a woman wearing a hotel name tag.
“Medicine’s not really her thing. She’s a lawyer,” Felicia explained, wanting to strangle her sister for being so rude.
He laughed. “If I remember correctly, you were living in Texas. What brings you to Atlanta? Are you up for one of those new positions at the CDC? I hear the new executive director came in and cleaned house.”
“We’re here to visit some old friends,” Farrah offered, making a reappearance. “Please excuse us. We’re running late.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, eyeing both women. He pulled out a business card from the breast pocket of his suit and handed it to Felicia. “Please, give me a call sometime. I’d love to catch up.”
Felicia smiled and tucked it away in her crystal-encrusted clutch. “It was nice seeing you again.”
“You, too,” Price replied as he turned and made his way down the hall.
“The party’s right upstairs on the second floor in the Oriental ballroom.” Farrah intertwined their arms, pulling her sister toward the escalator, but not before looking over her shoulder at Dr. Price’s disappearing form.
“He won’t be the only doctor we may encounter,” Felicia whispered, trying to slow her sister’s pace to no avail.
“True, but there’s only one doctor here that you need to see. So no distractions allowed.”
The sisters took the escalator to the second floor and, with each slow progression, Felicia felt as though the small butterflies in her stomach were growing and if she opened her mouth, they’d make their escape in grand fashion.
“I can’t do this,” Felicia declared the moment the escalator placed her feet back on solid ground. She gripped her sister’s arm and froze, then watched a large crowd of elegantly dressed men and women mill about. She turned and faced her sister, who snatched a glass of wine from a passing waiter. “Farrah, let’s get out of here.”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Farrah said before taking a sip of her wine. “You work for the CIA doing God knows what. Dad trained all of us to handle all types of weapons, to fight, and you’ve even won a few karate matches against both of your sisters, for goodness’ sake.” Farrah scrunched her face as though her nose had just encountered a vile smell. “Why are you acting like you’ve never been in a clutch situation before?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because all the training in the world hasn’t prepared me to tell someone I haven’t really seen in years, excluding a ten-minute conversation in an airport weeks ago—a man that I’ve never so much as shared a real kiss with, a man that I just might still be in love with, which is pretty pathetic if you think about it—that we have a child.”
Felicia spied a ladies’ lounge, extracted herself from her sister’s hold and weaved through the crowd. She was keeping her head lowered because the last thing she wanted was to be stopped in her current state. Entering the bright room, she spied a small, white sofa and matching round chairs. She took a seat on the sofa and crossed her arms and legs much like a pouting teenager.
Farrah wasn’t too far behind. “Really? Is this your plan? Hang out in the ladies’ room until the party’s over?” she asked, standing with her arms folded, staring down at her sister.
“No, only until the party gets started.” Felicia opened her clutch purse, pulled out her cell and checked the time. “It’s almost eight. We’ll only have to wait another fifteen minutes and then we’re out of here. The sooner I get back to the hotel and Alyia, the better.”
Felicia decided not to stay at the house Valerie had willed her and Alyia. Considering everything that happened, she felt it would be best if they made a clean break. Felicia decided to put the house up for sale and place the money in trust for Alyia.
Farrah let her arms fall to the sides and joined her sister on the sofa. “Look, sis, I understand your trepidation for handling things this way, but he’s left you no real choice.”
“I get that, but I don’t think this is the best way,” Felicia explained. The door opened and their attention shifted to two ladies making their way past the lounge area and into the stalls positioned behind the sitting room.
Farrah sighed. “All right, so what do you want to do?”
“I want to get the hell out of here and bring Fletcher in to help,” she said, her eyes widening and eyebrows rising.
Farrah’s eyebrows knit together. “Why Fletcher?”
“He did a great job checking into the attorney who sent me the letter that started this mess in the first place. Fletcher has always found creative ways to resolve our other family problems,” she said, giving her sister a smile and a playful nudge. “I’m sure this issue will be no problem. At least for him. He doesn’t have any messy emotions to contend with. Fletcher can track him down, break the news, and then the ball will be in his court.”
Fletcher Scott, a private detective turned lawyer, was the Blakes’ go-to person when it came to handling personal matters the family didn’t want their own company involved in.
“Okay, if that’s how you want to handle it, so be it.” Farrah got up and took a peek outside the door and the sound of live jazz music flowed in. “But by the amount of champagne and the musicians playing in the foyer, we could be here a while. It looks like we’ll be missing a great party and you know how I love a good party,” Felicia said, returning to her seat where she did a little shimmy.
The sisters laughed, but were interrupted when a pretty, tall woman with features that clearly indicated African-American and Asian heritage, wearing a low-cut, powder-blue, floor-length dress with her hair pulled into a tight bun, entered the lounge area. A petite older woman wearing a more conservative gown in a similar color entered right after. That woman’s almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones and fair coloring seemed familiar.
Both sisters offered the women a smile. The younger one nodded and stopped at the entrance of the sitting area while the older woman moved forward and extended her hand. “Dr. Felicia Blake,” she said, more of a statement than a question. The woman’s dark eyes darted between the sisters, clearly confused by the near-identical images before her.
Felicia and Farrah stood, and Felicia accepted the woman’s hand. “I’m Dr. Felicia Blake.”
“I’m Mrs. Lin Kaile, Dr. Griffin Kaile’s mother. We met briefly at Griffin’s graduation,” she explained, offering Felicia a quick shake with her fingers before dropping her hand as though she was afraid she would catch a disease.
“I remember. Nice to see you again,” Felicia replied, suddenly chilled by the woman’s icy tone and demeanor. As far as Felicia could remember, there had never been any exchange they’d had that warranted the woman’s dismissive behavior.
Mrs. Kaile beckoned the younger woman. “And this is my future daughter-in-law, Jia Richardson.” Felicia’s heart dropped at the introduction as Jia quickly joined the older woman’s side, murmuring something insulting in Mandarin.
Felicia responded to the young woman in the same language, letting them know that she did not appreciate her making such a derogatory statement about her and her sister—that they were like puff pastries, pretty but no substance. She didn’t even know them.
Both women turned their glares toward Felicia, who met theirs head-on. Farrah offered her sister a proud smile but remained silent.
Mrs. Kaile broke the silence. “You speak Mandarin?” she asked, leveling an inquisitive stare