“Now, you drive safe and remember what I said,” Zakira told Eddie a few hours later as they shared a tight hug.
Edwina relished her sister’s embrace a moment longer before pulling away. “I’ll try. And don’t forget to send me my invitation!” she called, already sprinting down the porch steps.
Zakira shook her head and watched Eddie race toward her car.
The phone rang the moment Zakira twisted the front door lock. She rushed into the living room to answer before the machine clicked on.
“Zakira Badu.”
“Yes, ma’am, may I speak with Malik Badu?”
“He’s not here right now. May I take a message?”
“Mrs. Badu, this is Doctor Sedrick McNeil. I will just try reaching Malik. I’ll try his office.”
A faint frown formed on Zakira’s face. “Oh, uh, all right,” she managed.
The connection broke soon after, but she still clutched the receiver. Malik didn’t tell me he had a new doctor.
“Oh, Malik, wait!”
“What is it, Chanel?” Malik said, grimacing as he pulled off the heavy jacket.
Chanel hurried down the hall. “A Doctor McNeil called. He wants you to get in touch with him.” She handed her boss a pink message slip.
For a moment, Malik was sure his heart had stopped beating. He noticed Chanel watching him strangely and ordered himself to get hold of his emotions.
“Thanks. I’ll make the call from my office.”
Chanel only nodded, her hazel eyes tinged with worry.
Malik tossed his jacket to the sofa and headed to his desk. Not wanting to prolong the inevitable, he picked up the phone and entered the necessary digits.
“Doctor McNeil’s office,” a perky voice greeted after the first ring.
Malik hesitated for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “This is Malik Badu I’m returning Doctor McNeil’s call.”
“Oh, Mr. Badu,” the secretary sighed. “Doctor McNeil asked if you wouldn’t mind coming in.”
Malik’s long lashes fell over his eyes. He almost demanded to be told at that moment, but managed to keep a lid on his temper.
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
In an effort to forget Dr. McNeil’s mysterious call, Zakira decided to make another sinful dish. This time, she selected a recipe for fudge-ripple-swirled cookies. She always added her own special touches to any dish that wasn’t her invention. It was the mark of a true cook, her mother always said. Unfortunately, Zakira was so preoccupied by the call that her usual creativity was somewhat hampered. And it was amazing that the cookies were ever ready for the oven. Zakira could not stop herself from looking out the window each time she heard a car pass. Several times, she found herself staring at the phone and wishing Malik would call.
Of course, the doctor’s call could have easily been something routine. If only it weren’t for the other inconsistencies in Malik’s behavior. Zakira knew she wouldn’t feel at ease until she spoke with her husband.
The delicious cookies didn’t take long to bake. When they were done, she rushed upstairs to change her clothes. The waiting and wondering had finally gotten the better of her. In half an hour, she was leaving for the restaurant.
“Zakira! Honey, I was just asking Malik if you were coming in this week.”
A suspicious smirk touched Zakira’s lips as she watched the older man at her side. “Why? More suggestions concerning the menu?”
Head chef Carlos Hamils gave the boss’s beautiful wife a knowing stare. “I’m done making any more changes. I know the organizers of the event have it hard enough without having my dedication to perfection getting in the way.”
Zakira pressed her hand to Carlos’s shoulder. “We really appreciate it,” she whispered.
Carlos round, dark gaze was already focusing on the basket Zakira carried. “So what have you got there?”
“Damn, you don’t miss a thing,” she remarked, having forgotten her reason for stopping by the kitchen.
“Nothin’ gets by this,” Carlos told her, pointing towards his long, angular nose. “So tell me what you’ve been mixing up in the kitchen. And don’t tell me you’re about to stop sharing ideas.”
Zakira threw her head back and laughed. “Please! I’m the one who should be asking you to share ideas.”
Carlos pressed his hand to his chest and sighed. “You’re so good for my ego.”
“Mmm-hmm. Well, I did bring something for you guys,” Zakira revealed, lifting the basket she carried.
“I knew it. What is it?” Carlos inquired, already taking the package.
Zakira clasped her gloved hands together. “They’re chicken potpies. I used herbs from my garden to season the pastry. The vegetables are fresh, and the chicken has been marinated in an herb sauce, also courtesy of my garden.”
Carlos closed his eyes in happiness. “I can’t wait to dive in.”
“Well, there’s enough for you and the rest of the guys, so let me know what you think. We’ll meet Friday morning to discuss some other things pertaining to the charity dinner.”
Carlos saluted her and headed farther into the kitchen with his delicious burden. Zakira smiled and relished the welcome vibe she received whenever she visited the restaurant. She had always felt a sense of acceptance from the Badu’s employees and since she’d started organizing the cancer fund-raiser, she’d experienced an even deeper sense of acceptance. The staff truly seemed to enjoy working with her on the event and they respected her opinions and ideas.
Zakira sighed before heading upstairs.
“Zakira!” Chanel called, a bright smile on her face. “If you’re looking for Malik, he left.”
“Damn,” Zakira muttered, setting her purse on Chanel’s desk. “Did he tell you where he was going?”
Chanel shook her head. “Sorry, he didn’t.”
“Do you know when he might be back?”
“I’m sorry, he really didn’t tell me anything before he left.”
Realizing she would just have to wait it out, Zakira spent a little while longer at the restaurant, then headed home.
As Zakira was leaving Malik’s office, he was arriving at the doctor’s. He shut the door to his black SUV, but leaned against the car instead of walking away from it. He knew none of what he would hear that day would be good. He stroked the strong line of his jaw for a moment, thinking of how his life was about to change. Then, taking a deep breath, he headed into the building.
Dr. McNeil was in the lobby speaking with his receptionist. He turned when the lobby doors opened.
“Malik! Glad you could make it on such short notice.”
Malik’s dark eyes narrowed, and he gave the doctor a humorless smirk. “Why prolong it?”
Dr. McNeil gestured in the direction of his office. “This way.”
Malik’s stride was rapid but steady as he followed the doctor. When the double oak-paneled office doors closed behind them, he turned and spread his hands. “Well?”
Dr. McNeil headed toward his desk. “Have a seat, Malik.”
With a grimace, Malik watched as the doctor calmly took his position. He followed suit, choosing one of the cushioned chairs in front the wide pine desk. “How long have I got?”