Present Day
Langston Lake. Home. A small town with a heavy Black population, full of influence, Black wealth, and still primarily ran by four families whose lineage dates back to the town’s incorporation after emancipation. The Langstons, the Silvers, the Bridgewaters, and my family; the Rollins. I considered the lengthy, complicated history of my hometown while driving to my parents’ farm.
I hadn’t been home in almost five years. Partly because work kept me busy and on the move, but mostly because I bumped heads with my mama too hard for me to know real peace whenever I was here. I loved her deep, but had learned early to love her from a distance. Still, Langston Lake felt like home more than my New York apartment or LA condo ever had. Early March in North Carolina always brought bright, sunny skies, and warm temperatures. It was way more agreeable than New York’s chilly pre-Spring teaser, so it was no surprise so many people were outside enjoying the elements without coats and hats.
Seeing people out, not necessarily hustling from one place to another like in New York, sent a wave of calm through me. Despite how badly I didn’t want to be here, especially not to deal with my family’s mess, I felt good. I hoped that good feeling didn’t disappear when I got to the farm.
I drove through the city on autopilot, not needing to pay too much attention to where I was going. I knew these roads like the back of my hand. In my mind, I circulated through the quick conversation with mama from a few nights ago that lead to me being here.
“Wh-what’s going on? What do I need to come home for?”
“We’re in a crisis.” I shook my head, already annoyed. Mama could be dramatic and would lay it on thick if it she thought it would help get her way.
“Mama. Be for real with me right now,” I said. I put my unlit blunt on my desk and got up from the bench to pace. I needed to work off the nervous energy seeing her name on the caller ID gave me.
“You know there was a hurricane a couple of weeks ago. Why didn’t you call and check on me and your father,” she asked somberly, switching topics altogether. I stopped pacing and rolled my eyes to the ceiling.
“I did call and check on y’all, I just didn’t call you. Daddy said ya’ll were fine and there was only minimal damage.”
The line was silent for a few minutes and I figured she was taking a step back to pivot to another topic now that I caught her in a lie. But boy was I wrong.
“Your father lied.”
“Lied how?” I didn’t know anything about my daddy being a liar. That wasn’t his thing, but it was mama’s.
“The damage is much more than minimal. We may have lost the vineyard.”
Those words hit me in the gut, forcing me back to my seat on the bench. My family owned a significant portion of land in Langston Lakes and had built several successful businesses from it. Our wine vineyard was one of the newer businesses, only operating for the last fifteen years, but it was one of the most successful. Although I moved out of Langston Lake at 18, I always thought I would eventually return to run the vineyard in my later years. And Mama was telling me that was a dead dream now?
“Lost the vineyard?” I repeated, at a loss for words with substance.
“Yes. And we have to decide what to do so we don’t incur a bigger loss than we can handle.”
What did that mean? Thanks to all that land, for centuries, generations of Rollins knew nothing but wealth and success. There was no way the vineyard could have that much impact on our portfolio.
“Mama, what are you saying?”
“We’re going to sell the vineyard and a few acres of land surrounding it.”
And that’s where I came in. That’s why I had to come home. Not because my parents needed help cleaning up the vineyard and returning operations to normal, but because my mother had convinced my father to sell the land off altogether. Probably to spite me since the vineyard was a significant part of my inheritance.
Irritation blossomed when I finally turned down the long driveway that connected to the large white farmhouse I grew up in. Not knowing mama’s true motives irked me, but I couldn't spend my mental energy on that. That information wasn’t essential; not right now. Something much bigger demanded my attention.
I parked next to Victor’s flashy midnight black Range Rover and popped the trunk on my little rented sedan. Before I could get out the car good, I heard the front screen door open and shut and looked up to see my seven-year-old niece Lenaya bolting down the stairs towards me. Once at the bottom, she launched into my arms and buried her small face in my chest.
“TT Marie, I missed you so much!” She exclaimed with all the theater and emotion of a little Black girl well-versed in tugging on heart strings.
I squeezed her tight and pushed my face into her soft, curly ponytail. Guilt swept over me; it had been too long since I called to chat with my favorite baby girls.
“Awww, baby girl, I miss you too. I’m sorry I haven’t FaceTimed or called in awhile. I’ve been so busy with work.”
When I let her down, Lenaya immediately started hopping up and down excitedly.
“That’s okay! Daddy told me you wrote a song that plays on the radio and you’re famous now and you—“
“Whoa, whoa, ‘Naya, let her get in the house good before you start talking her ears off.”
The sound of my sister-in-law’s voice pulled my attention away from my niece’s beautiful bright eyes. I looked at Victor’s wife, June, standing on the porch and a lump hit my throat when I saw the unmistakeable baby bump poking through her maxi dress.
When did that happen? Had it really been that long since I checked in with my people?
“Wow,” I managed to sputter while I walked up the steps with open arms. “I hope that’s finally a nephew you got in there for me,” I teased, pulling her into a gentle hug.
Her embrace was so comforting, the way a sister’s was meant to feel. That’s what June was for me. When Victor brought her home fifteen years ago, it didn’t matter that we weren’t related by blood. 17-year-old Marie finally had a sister, so I latched on and never let go. Her hug reminded me why I needed home; it was about the people, not the place.
“Girl, you know your brother can’t make nothing but girls,” June finally said when we let go. I stared in awe at how beautiful pregnancy looked on her and shook my head, unable to stop the wide smile spreading across my face. This was their third child together and I had no doubt in my mind that they would keep trying until Victor got the junior he wanted.
“Of course. Vic is destined to be surrounded by women who will keep his wallet open and empty.”
“That seems like the goal,” June said lazily. She turned at the sound of the screen door opening again.
Victor walked out followed by my daddy.
“The prodigal daughter returns,” Victor said with a wicked grin.
I waved him and his annoying comment off and stepped around him into my father’s waiting arms. Seeing him was the best part of being here. His hug was the security blanket I needed at a time when everything felt chaotic and unstable. The familiar scent of tobacco and the signature Burberry cologne mama always got him for his birthday reminded me of a simpler time. I resisted the growing urge to break down and pour out everything on my mind and heart. Now wasn’t the time. This trip wasn’t even about me.
Pulling back from the hug, I stared into his eyes and the urge to break strengthened. All the wisdom and unconditional love on display there was a timely reminder that when I turned my back on mama, I indirectly turned my back on him, too. That guilt from earlier came back.
“Its good to have you home, Marie,” he said simply in his deep timbre, accented by a southern lilt. “Even under these circumstances.” He draped an arm around my shoulder and turned me towards the door. “Vic, get her bags out the car,” he said before we stepped over the threshold and into the house together.
“Daddy, I’m sorry I haven’t been home, I just—“
“Nope,” he cut me off with a stern head shake. “None of that today or at all, if I have my way. Come on in here and dig into Sunday dinner your mama made. We can talk about all of that later.”
* * *
Later turned out to be just a little over an hour after I walked through the door. Love and joy flowed during the meal because daddy and my brothers were happy to see me, and I was over the moon because my baby brother Vondell was home for the weekend. However, mama wasn’t so easily pleased. No big shocker there. Having all of her kids at home for Sunday dinner was a feat she hadn’t mastered in years. You’d think that would be enough to hold off on the drama, at least until the food settled. But Velvet Marie was nothing if not true to her dramatics.
“Marie, do you think you’ll be able to meet with the lawyer tomorrow so we can get all the paperwork signed and complete the sale?”
Here we go.
I set the spoonful of banana pudding I was about to slide into my mouth back down in my bowl and stared at mama.
Why right now?
“Actually, Mama, I wanted to talk some more about that.”
Mama pursed her lips; disapproval and annoyance marked up her pretty features. At 64, she looked the way no one would expect a wife, mother of three, and business owner to look. If she stressed about anything, there wasn’t a wrinkle marring her pecan skin to prove it.
“What more is there to talk about? We can’t afford to run the vineyard after the hurricane. Julius Silver has offered a nice amount of money to buy the land from us for his own purposes. We need you to agree to sell the percentage you own for the sale to go through.”
Again, I just stared at her. She ran that same story down to me on the phone when she called. I felt like it was bullshit then, and I definitely felt it now as I watched her casually disregard what it meant for us to sell a big chunk of our land like it had no value to us.
“Then I guess the sale won’t go through then,” I said simply before scooping some pudding into my mouth. I needed to keep my lips busy to prevent the rest of the more dangerous words floating around my brain from coming out.
I glanced around the table as every man shifted uncomfortably in their seats, including daddy. This had been routine for Sunday dinners since I was old enough to call my mama on her bullshit when I caught it. We were true opposites with the same attitude and level of spiciness. Everybody present knew this conversation could go either way, and they also knew they were powerless to stop it.
“You think you can stop me?” She asked incredulously.
“Let it go, Velvet,” daddy said in a warning tone.
“No. I would like our precious daughter, who we’ve raised and given everything to, to explain how she plans to stop me from making a decision for my business.” Out of respect for my father, I suppressed my eye roll and exhaled heavily.
“Mama, please stop. I don’t want to go there with you. It’s not a matter of if I can stop you. If you could do it without me, you would have.” My father grunted, whether in support of my statement or against it, I wasn’t sure.
At that moment I didn’t care. I was exhausted from the long drive from the airport and her antics had sapped the little bit of energy I had left.
“I’m not signing my percentage over. That’s not why I’m here. When you’re ready to discuss an alternative plan without all the drama, I’ll be right here.” I stood and excused myself.
I left them all sitting there on edge and clueless about my plans. I retired to my childhood bedroom for the night to rest and formulate a plan to compete with the offer from Julius. I wasn’t home often, but I cared about what was important to my family and didn’t want to see it sold and turned into the next high-rise development.