Chapter Thirty-nine
All morning Lenora had double-checked, and in some cases, triple-checked, the details for the upcoming weekend. She hung up the phone with the caterer a split second before she was sure the man on the other line would be ready to shoot a string of curse words her way.
Sarah sat across from her pretending to examine her nails. Lenora could feel the annoyance rising up from the woman’s demeanor. “I appreciate you taking care of all this while I was sick. I know, I know. I’m anal. My apologies.”
Her consultant stretched her eyes. Sarah opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Lenora burst out laughing. “What, you mean I made you speechless? Look, honey, I have been laid out on my back for about a week. At some point, I could have sworn death’s door was about to open.” Lenora leaned back. “I know that I strive for this false notion of perfection. I always have. It’s a hard habit to break.”
Sarah’s eyes watered as she smiled. “That’s what your clients appreciate about you. You do everything to make sure that day is one they will never forget. It’s why I was determined to work for you. Your reputation is stellar, and I can see why.”
Lenora waved her hand. “I know you still want to wring my neck. I do trust you. I just . . . I feel like I haven’t been fully involved in the wedding planning for Candace, at least these last few critical weeks.”
Sarah shook her head. Her hair swung back and forth. “That’s the way it seems to you, but I know Candace is very pleased with everything. You really are too hard on yourself. Where does this come from?”
Lenora shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve always had this good girl syndrome.”
Sarah giggled. “Me too.”
Lost in a memory, Lenora remained silent for a few minutes. She finally spoke, her eyes not focused on anything in particular. “You know, Charmayne used to get on me ever since we were little girls. She would tell me ‘You’re so boring, you have to have everything just right.’”
“Well, someone has to keep the order.”
Lenora focused on Sarah, and then shook her head. “You’re right, but we can’t expect everything to be perfect. Sometimes I have been so caught up in having control and making sure everything was perfect that I have succumbed to feeling like a failure when things fall apart.”
Sarah leaned forward. “You know, what you just said reminds me of something I read this morning in my devotions.” She pulled out her phone and began touching the screen. “Here it is. Today’s verse was from 2 Corinthians, Chapter Twelve, and Verse Ten. It says, ‘Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.”
Sarah looked at Lenora. “I can forward this to you if you’d like.”
“Sure! That’s a good verse to meditate on today. Thank you again for everything, Sarah.”
Sarah gave her a salute. “Not a problem, boss.”
After the young woman left, Lenora couldn’t seem to find the concentration she had earlier. She often played an online radio station in the background. Lenora reached over and flicked the screen to show the station. She saw Marvin Sapp’s album cover. Lenora turned up the volume and listened to the chorus. “Be all glory and power, dominion and power, forever, and ever. Amen.”
She thought about the verse that Sarah just read. Lenora hadn’t been taking any pleasure in her trials and loss of control. She’d carried the weight on her shoulders, feeling more oppressed by her circumstances. During her illness, her prayers and time spent with God had grown on a deeper level. There was nothing hurried as she got up and went about her day. It was like God had been waiting for her to slow down and share her burdens. There was nothing cliché about let go and let God.
If anything, she needed to remember this simple concept.
She was still steamed at Jonathan. Well, not necessarily at him, but what he said to her. When she had received blows in her life, Lenora did have a habit of feeling sorry for herself over what she conceived to be a failure.
She had to really evaluate the root of where this came from. Always an overachiever, she certainly did her best to do everything with excellence, but even her mother had often told her, “Lenora, you have to live so you are not missing out on what God has for you. It’s usually not about you working to get credit or the pat on the back, but for God’s glory.”
Lenora wondered what her momma would have said to her that night if she had known her daughter had become an accessory to what could have been someone’s possible death. Lenora could have said something years ago, but she didn’t. She had consciously made up for the terrible mishap by making sure she helped anyone in need. In a lot of ways, despite her complexities, Charmayne had done the same when she moved into the public service arena.
Lenora turned down the music and tapped on the keyboard to pull up some folders from an external hard drive. She kept meticulous records of all her weddings, mainly because she liked to go back and make sure she gave each bride the unique wedding they paid her to plan. It took her about fifteen minutes, but she found the folder she was searching for.
The photo was five years old and Charmayne’s hair was long. Before she started chopping her hair off, Charmayne had worn weaves for years. In this photo, Charmayne had a jet-black, silky mane, a deep contrast to the princess wedding gown. Lenora still didn’t know why Charmayne picked that dress. They went around and around. Charmayne wanted a fairy-tale wedding.
Her friend never walked down the aisle, which bothered Lenora more than it did Charmayne. Was her friend ever really happy?
The office phone halted her emotions and thoughts. Lenora cleared her throat and waited for the phone to ring again before she picked up the receiver.
“Lenora’s Bridal Boutique.”
“Lenora. Is this Lenora Freeman?”
She sat up straight in the seat. Lenora definitely didn’t recognize the man’s voice. She snapped, “Who’s this?”
“Mrs. Freeman, this is Henry Bowman. I’m Charmayne Hudson’s lawyer.”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I’m calling because I have been trying to contact you. Charmayne Hudson had some instructions upon her death. I have a package for you.”
Lenora stuttered. Her brain was trying to catch up with her mouth. “A package.”
“Yes, I felt like this wasn’t something I could place in the mail. I was wondering if you could come by next week, possibly Monday, to pick up the package.”
“Sure, what time?”
The man paused so long, Lenora was about to ask if anyone was still on the line.
“How about 1:00 p.m.? Will that work?”
Lenora jotted the time on her desk calendar. She would have to remember to add the meeting to her phone. She asked, “Where is your office located?”
“2200 Parklane Plaza.”
“Thanks, I will see you on Monday.” Lenora heard the dial tone and hung up the phone. She stared at the phone as if it were a snake about to strike out and bite her. Almost an entire week had passed since Charmayne’s funeral. What was in the package?
She said out loud, “Really, Charmayne. Even from the grave, you’re still causing drama.”