Chapter 12
Lamar activated the telephone’s speaker feature on the phone and then placed the receiver on the handset. He had spent the past five minutes trying to convince his partners not to put in a bid for a construction project to build a new shopping center in Lafayette. Resting his feet on the corner of the desk in his home office, he stared at the toes of the worn leather moccasins that had seen better days, but he was loath to throw them away before getting another pair to replace them.
“We’re stretched thin as it is, and to take on a project a hundred fifty miles away from home base is something we need to discuss in depth.”
“What is there to talk about it, Pierce? It’s only a strip mall,” Omar countered.
Lamar swore to himself. If he hadn’t put the two men on speaker, he would have placed the call on hold and really let loose. It was a rare occasion that he, Kirk Wallace, and Omar Robinson did not agree on whether to accept a project, and for Lamar this was one of those times. As the company’s construction manager he was responsible for traveling to construction sites to take care of any problems. He didn’t mind driving if it could be accomplished in one day; however, he had made it a practice to be home during the week whenever school was in session because it was his time to eat breakfast with his daughter.
“Whether large or small, it’s still a construction project that is geographically undesirable.”
“For who?” Kirk questioned.
“For me,” Lamar said. “Have you forgotten that I’m the one overseeing the sites and I’m also a single father?” His partners were married with children.
“What’s the problem, Pierce?” Omar asked. “You have a live-in housekeeper.”
“And you dudes have stay-at-home wives who get to see your kids off before they head out to school. In case you’re not aware of it, I have made it a practice to eat breakfast with my daughter and tell her that I love her before she walks out the door to get on the bus.”
There was a pregnant silence until Omar’s voice came through the speaker. “Man, I’m sorry. There are times when I forget Valerie’s gone.”
Lamar wanted to tell the man that he was so focused on making money that it had become a priority for him. There came a knock on the door, and he glanced up to find Kendra in the doorway. He picked up the telephone receiver, covered the mouthpiece with one hand, and beckoned her in. “What is it, sweets?”
“I didn’t know you were on the phone. I’ll come back later.”
“Stay.” He removed his hand from the mouthpiece. “Can we talk about this in the office tomorrow?”
“No problem.”
“Sure.”
Omar and Kirk had spoken at the same time.
Lamar hung up and rose to his feet. “What do you need?” he asked Kendra.
She smiled. “I finished my robotic project and I want you to be the first one to see it.”
He came from around the desk. “Oh, now I can see it?”
“Daddy, you know why I didn’t show it to you before it was finished.”
He dropped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders as they walked upstairs to her bedroom. “I don’t know why. Perhaps you can enlighten me, Miss Pierce.”
“Because you’ll critique it like you did when I made the model of an Aztec village.”
“But, sweetie, it wasn’t Aztec but Incan. There is a difference.” Lamar recalled Kendra bursting into tears after she’d spent countless hours recreating a replica of Machu Picchu, when it should’ve been Teotihuacan.
“I know that now, Daddy. But instead of making me take it apart I could have told my teacher that I decided to pick Peru instead of Mexico as my country for International Week.”
“And that would have been dishonest, Kendra. If you make a mistake, then you have to own it.”
“Do you know how long it took me to mold a clay model of the Aztec calendar?”
“It took you long enough to get you an A.”
A slow smile flitted over Kendra’s delicate features. “It did turn out okay.”
“It was more than okay, Kendra. It was perfect.”
Kendra put an arm around Lamar’s waist. “You say that because I’m your daughter.”
He dropped a kiss on her braids. “I’d say it was perfect even if you weren’t my daughter.”
Lamar followed Kendra into her bedroom and pretended he didn’t see the pile of clothes on the floor in a corner. Despite having an en suite bath with a hamper Kendra preferred leaving clothes on the floor. He had only two rules for her to follow: do well in school and keep her room clean.
“I know, Daddy. I’m going to put the clothes away before I go to bed.”
Lamar smiled. “Did I say anything?”
Kendra gave him a sidelong glance. “No, but I know what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t know my daughter was a mind reader.”
“I’m not, but I saw you look over there.”
She reached for his hand, directing him to a cherrywood-topped, off-white worktable that matched an L-shaped desk. Once Lamar discovered Cameron’s fiancée was an interior decorator, he’d commissioned her to decorate Kendra’s bedroom. He told Jasmine his daughter was spending the summer in Baton Rouge and he wanted to surprise her with new furniture and accessories conducive for studying and total relaxation.
Lamar’s chest swelled with pride when he saw a trio of robotic catapults Kendra had constructed for her science project. He leaned closer. “These are incredible.”
“Move back, Daddy. I’m going to show you how they work.”
He took a backward step and watched Kendra place a small Styrofoam ball in the basket. She picked up a remote control device linked to her tablet and tapped the screen. The robotic arm moved up and the ball sailed across the room and bounced off the area rug.
Lamar applauded. “It’s a direct hit! What made you decide to design a catapult?”
Kendra repeated the action with the second robot. “I saw a movie where soldiers filled the baskets of several catapults with hot tar and launched it at the invading army using a battering ram to destroy the walls of the castle.”
Lamar picked up the ball and handed it to Kendra. “You know you’re a genius.” Kendra lowered her eyes. It was obvious he’d embarrassed her. “You’re very smart, Kendra, and it’s time you accept it.”
Her head popped up and she met his eyes. “Smart girls aren’t popular.”
He went completely still. “Popular with who?”
“Everyone, Daddy. Boys always believe they’re smarter than girls, and some girls don’t like me because they think I’m trying to show them up.”
Taking her hands, Lamar led her over to the bench at the foot of her bed and sat. “Sit down, Kendra.” He waited for her to sit beside him and laced their fingers together. “There will always be boys and girls who won’t like you for reasons that are completely asinine. It could be they’re jealous because they feel you’re prettier, smarter, or they’re jealous of the way you dress.”
“It can’t be clothes, because everyone in school wears the same uniform.”
“Okay, we’ll cross clothes off the list,” Lamar conceded. “For now.”
Kendra rested her head on her father’s shoulder. “Why for now?”
“You won’t wear a uniform when you go out on a date.”
Kendra sat straight. “That’s not going to be for a long time. Didn’t you say I couldn’t date until I was seventeen?”
“Yes, I did.”
“All my friends’ parents say they can start dating at sixteen.”
“I’m not your friends’ parents, Kendra.”
“What if I’m super grown-up at sixteen?”
Lamar tugged on one of the thick plaits falling over Kendra’s shoulder. “You won’t be super grown-up at sixteen. It’s not until you’re an adult and accept all of the responsibilities that go along with it that you’ll become what you say is super grown-up.”
“What responsibilities?”
“Securing employment to earn enough money to pay rent or a mortgage so you don’t join the ranks of homeless people living on the street. You’ll also have to buy or lease a car so you don’t have to depend on public transportation to get around. Then, there’s food and clothes. And what if you have a family? Your kids are going to need new shoes every six months, and what if you have teenage boys who will eat and drink you out of house and home?”
“That’s not going to happen, Daddy.”
“Because you say so?”
“Yes, because by that time my husband will help me.”
“I want you to finish college and establish a career before you think about getting married.”
“But I’ll be too old,” Kendra whined.
“Sweetie, you won’t be too old. If you graduate college at twenty-one or two, and then get a job and work for three or four years to get established, you won’t be too old.”
“How old were you when you married Mom?”
“Twenty-six. And speaking of husbands and marriage, what happened to boys are stupid?”
“By the time they are as old as you they won’t be so stupid.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“I’m serious, Daddy. I know you want the best for me, and I’m trying. But you have to understand that I’m just a kid and—”
“I know that,” Lamar said, cutting her off. “I know sometimes I put a lot of pressure on you to get good grades—”
“Sometimes, Daddy?” Kendra interrupted. “You do it all the time. And just because you do, I deliberately mark the wrong answers on tests.”
Lamar did not want to believe what he was hearing. His daughter had decided to rebel knowing how he felt about her doing well in school. Why hadn’t she come to him before she’d barely passed two of her classes?
“What is it you want, Kendra?”
“I want you to stop threatening to ground me if I don’t make the honor roll.”
Lamar was momentarily speechless, his mind in tumult. He hadn’t realized the pressure he’d put on his daughter to succeed. His parents had impressed upon him at an early age the importance of getting an education, and he’d continued the practice with Kendra. Learning had come easy for him because everything he read he retained, so his parents hadn’t had to issue threats of reprisals.
“I’m sorry, baby girl. Starting tonight, I promise no more threats.” He held out his little finger. “Pinky swears?”
Smiling, Kendra looped her finger with his. “Pinky swears.”
“Do you know where we haven’t gone in a long time?”
“Where, Daddy?”
“Mamma’s Place for Sunday brunch.”
Kendra let out a scream and quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry about that. I love their chicken and waffles. Daddy, can I invite Morgan and Taylor to go with us?”
“You can if you ask their mother.”
Kendra jumped up. “Wait here, Daddy, while I call them.”
Stretching out his legs, Lamar crossed his feet at the ankles. Kendra’s revelation that he’d put too much pressure on her was definitely a wake-up call to let her be a kid. He knew there would come a time in her life when she would be faced with more pressures than making her school’s honor roll.
“Daddy, Miss Evangeline would like to talk to you. I’ll put you on speaker.” Kendra handed him her cell phone.
“Hi, Evie. I’m taking Kendra to Mamma’s Place for Sunday brunch, and she would like to know if Taylor and Morgan can join us.”
“Of course they can. There are no classes this Monday because it’s professional development day for teachers, so would you mind if Kendra spends Sunday and Monday with the girls? I’ll drop them off at school on Tuesday.”
“Please, please, please, Daddy,” Kendra whispered.
“Yes, Evie, she can stay over.” Kendra dropped to her knees, pressed her hands together in a prayerful gesture, and mouthed a thank-you.
“What time do you want me to drop off the twins?”
When he’d asked Evangeline why she had given her twin girls names usually attributed to boys, she said she didn’t want her daughters to face gender discrimination based on their names. “Aren’t you going to join us?”
“Don’t tell me you need me to help you chaperone three giggly preteen girls?”
Lamar winked at his daughter. “Yes, I do.”
“Then, you’re on. What time do you want to meet?”
“Twelve. Does that work for you?” he asked Evangeline.
“Twelve is okay.”
“I’ll call and make a reservation for five.”
“Thanks for the invited, Lamar. See you Sunday.”
“Good. I’m giving the phone back to Kendra.”
Lamar left his daughter’s room and took the back staircase down to the family room. He folded his body down into his favorite chair and turned on the wall-mounted television, tuning to encore footage of a baseball game. He needed to watch mindless television so he wouldn’t think about what he would face when confronting Kirk and Omar. Whenever there was a quandary between them, they usually put it to a vote. And this time Lamar felt he was going to lose because he was the odd man out when it came to putting in a bid for a new construction project.
Although he didn’t always agree with his partners, he still liked and respected most of their decisions. They all worked for one of the largest engineering firms in the state, and during a moment of madness they got together and decided to tender their resignations and start up their own company.
The first year had become a test for survival when they lost a number of bids to other well-established companies for new construction following the destructive aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Things changed when they did come in as the lowest bid for a medical office building and completed the project three months before the proposed opening date without incurring cost overruns.
This was followed by the construction of small private hospital in a Shreveport suburb. The company had established its reputation for completing a project on time, while saving the developers money. However, victory for Lamar wasn’t as sweet. He had been 350 miles away when his wife had gone into labor eight weeks before her due date. When he’d finally returned to New Orleans it was to find Valerie in a hospital, weakened from blood loss, and heavily sedated after a Cesarean section. Their barely four-pound baby girl had survived, but would spend the next month in the neonatal unit.
Fast forward six years. Kendra was a first-grader when she lost her mother, and Lamar made his daughter a solemn vow that they would always eat breakfast together on days on which she had classes. That was four years ago, and to date he had kept the vow.
* * *
Nydia’s connecting flight touched down on time at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport in Kenner, Louisiana. The local temperature was in the mid-seventies with near 100 percent humidity. Jasmine had sent her a text informing her it had been raining steadily for two days.
She deplaned and made her way to baggage claim, where she found her driver holding a sign with her name waiting for her. “I’m Miss Santiago,” she said, introducing herself to the dark-suited man.
“Welcome, Miss Santiago. I’ll get your bags for you.”
Nydia stood behind the driver, waiting and watching for bags coming onto the conveyer belt. She pointed to a Pullman with a bright red ribbon attached to the handle. “That one is mine. There’s another one just like this, but smaller.”
She’d packed enough clothes to last at least three weeks, even though she’d planned to stay longer. Utilizing the hotel laundry was definitely more convenient than her schlepping bags of dirty clothes down five flights of stairs to a nearby laundromat.
Nydia followed the driver, pulling both bags, out of the terminal to curbside, and waited for him to retrieve his car from the parking lot. The humidity wrapped around her like a lead-weighted blanket as fingers of mist feathered over her exposed skin. She shifted the carry-on with her laptop from one shoulder to the other. After spending hours in the airport waiting to board, then deplaning, and boarding again after a ninety-minute layover, she craved a shower and a firm bed.
The driver finally maneuvered up to the curb and got out to open the rear door for her. Nydia managed a smile mirroring exhaustion as she literally collapsed on the rear seat. She wasn’t as physically tired as she was mentally. Her normal uneventful existence was now on display for public consumption and she was being unfairly judged as some type of femme fatale. A friend from college had called her to say there was chatter on Facebook that she’d seduced Danny Ocasio, hiding from him the fact that she was married, and once he proposed marriage she rejected him to avoid being labeled a bigamist. And the words cheater and adulteress had become commonplace when linked to her name.
Her father had come to her apartment earlier in the afternoon to drive her to the airport. Luis Santiago was unusually quiet during the ride, and she knew he was conflicted about her moving to New Orleans. He knew he could not forbid her to go, yet he had not been reticent when voicing his opposition to losing his little doll. Her father had all but accused her of running away and said that as a Santiago she should fight back, because they had never run and never would.
Nydia did not have to be a professional therapist to understand Luis’s motivation as an attempt to convince her not to relocate. She was his only daughter, and he had doted on her all of her life, and he wanted for her what he had with his wife: that when she left her father’s house it would be to move into one with her husband.
She wasn’t relocating—not yet—but visiting New Orleans for an extended working vacation. Nydia wanted to take the next four or five days to unwind before meeting with Hannah, Tonya, and Jasmine to establish budgets and projections for the lodgings, café, supper club, and personnel. It was imperative she maintain separate accounts for each component of the inn for the three of them to recoup their initial investments.
There was something about numbers that held her enthralled whenever she worked on three-, six-, nine-, and twelve-month projections, profit and loss statements, and balance sheets; and she made a mental note to set aside time to read the city’s and state’s tax codes.
In between work Nydia planned to have some fun. A smile parted her lips when she thought about Lamar. She decided to wait for a couple of days before letting him know she was going to be in his hometown for a while. She knew their reunion was certain to be vastly different from when he’d surprised her in New York, because they no longer had to concern themselves with newshounds jumping out from between parked cars.
Nydia stared out the side window. The driver had decelerated to less than ten miles per hour in the bumper-to-bumper traffic heading toward New Orleans. The thick fog shrouding the region reminded her of movies depicting London when Jack the Ripper prowled the streets and alleys hunting his next unsuspecting victim. She’d become captivated with anything resembling Victorian England after first reading Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles. While in high school, she had devoted an entire summer to reading Doyle, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, and Emily and Charlotte Brontë. She’d only left her bedroom to shower and eat. Brontë’s Jane Eyre and Austen’s Mansfield Park were favorites she reread every five years.
“It’s slow going tonight because of the fog, miss.”
The driver’s voice shattered her musings. “It’s okay. I just want to get there in one piece.” Nydia had given Jasmine her flight information, so she knew when to expect her. Reaching for her carry-on, she took out her cell phone and tapped Jasmine’s number. It rang twice before she heard a man’s voice.
“Cameron?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m answering Jasmine’s phone because she’s in bed and I knew she was expecting your call.”
Nydia’s pulse quickened. “Is she okay?”
“If you were to ask her she would say yes. The truth is she’s exhausted. She’s still running around like a chicken without a head looking for stuff to decorate the house. I keep telling her the place won’t be move-in ready till around early November.”
“Is she taking naps?”
“I don’t know. There’s no way I can monitor her because I have to go into the office now that my father’s is semi-retired. Whenever she calls me and I ask her where she is, she says she’s in her car. I need you to do me a favor.”
“What’s that, Cameron?”
“I know I don’t have a right to ask you this, but try and get her to slow down. Convince her to take a siesta like they do in certain European countries.”
Nydia realized Cameron was concerned about his wife’s health, but she wanted to tell him Jasmine was an adult and, unlike a child, she couldn’t be relegated to a time-out. “I’ll do what I can, although I can’t promise she’ll listen to me.”
“I’ll be eternally grateful for whatever you do. I didn’t wait until I’m almost fifty to marry and look forward to becoming a father to lose the two most precious things in my life.”
Nydia heard the pain and the passion in Cameron’s voice. She didn’t know the certified wealth manager well, but what she’d observed was an attractive, middle-aged, wealthy man from a prominent New Orleans family in total control of his life and his career. However, after spending several days with her friend, the serial dater and one of the city’s most eligible bachelors had been ready to turn in his dating card for a wedding band.
“I’ll slow her down even if I have to threaten not to become the godmother for your baby,” Nydia teased, smiling.
Cameron’s low chuckle caressed her ear. “I believe that will work, because that’s all she talks about now that you’ll be moving here.”
Nydia’s smile faded. “I know I haven’t told you this, but thank you for giving Jasmine what she needs.” Her friend had been through enough with a cheating husband who’d denied her a child, while attempting to pimp her out of everything she’d worked so hard for.
A beat passed. “There’s no need to thank me, Nydia. I love Jasmine, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make her happy because I feel as if I’m the luckiest man in the world to have her in my life.”
Nydia was temporarily mute from Cameron’s unexpected and fervent confession. This was another side of the overly confident and at times arrogant man whom she discovered was a master when it came to hiding his emotions. When he’d stared at Jasmine during Hannah’s wedding reception she’d believed him rude, interpreting his staring as predatory. He saw something he wanted and would not stop until he captured it. And he had.
It was the same stare she’d encountered when meeting Lamar for the first time. She’d found it flattering and frightening at the same time, and that was something she’d admitted to him. However, for Lamar it was purely physical, because he hadn’t been able to control his body’s reaction to seeing her.
Nydia knew she had to be a certified dimwit not to know that Lamar’s entrancement with her was physical. He’d openly admitted that to her. And it was not to say she wasn’t attracted to him. However, her attraction did not necessarily translate into sleeping with him. When Jasmine had asked if she’d enjoyed his kiss, she’d confessed she had. What she’d enjoyed more than Lamar kissing her was his easygoing personality and feeling so comfortable with him that she could extend an invitation for him to sleep in her spare bedroom.
“Don’t worry, Cameron,” she said after a pregnant silence. “I’ll do whatever I can to keep Jasmine safe.”
“Thank you, Nydia. The key to your suite is at the front desk. Unfortunately I couldn’t get you into the bridal suite because it’s booked solid until the end of the year.”
She smiled. “That’s all right. Bridal suites should be for brides and grooms.” And I’m definitely not a bride, she thought. “Tell Jasmine to call me tomorrow morning. I plan to stay in for most of the day.”
“Will do.”
Nydia ended the call and closed her eyes. She had made it a practice not to get involved with couples, whether married or not, when they confided to her about what was going on between them and their partners, because of an incident between her first cousin, Milagros Baez, and her then boyfriend when both were teenagers. She’d overheard rumors that Millie’s boyfriend was cheating on her with another girl and told her cousin. The confrontation that ensued led to threats of violence between Millie and the other girl and had to be defused by adults who were reluctant to become involved in adolescent squabbles. She’d been taught a hard lesson about repeating gossip, and her mantra was: see no evil; hear no evil; speak no evil.
“Finally,” she whispered under her breath when the driver parked in front of the hotel.
Gathering her carry-on, she was out of the town car before the driver could come around and open the door for her. A bellhop appeared and removed her luggage from the trunk. Nydia thanked the driver and slipped him a generous tip.
It took her less than fifteen minutes to check in and take the elevator to her room. She waited until the bellhop set the Pullman onto a luggage rack; she tipped the young man and closed the door behind him. The space was smaller than the bridal suite but just as inviting. The bedroom contained two full-size, four-poster beds with piles of vintage lace-trimmed pillows, bed skirts, and contemporary down quilts. It was a quiet retreat to sleep and/or while away the hours reading or watching television.
Nydia opted for a quick shower rather than a leisurely soak in the garden tub. She plugged her cell phone into the charger, activated the Do Not Disturb feature on the hotel phone, slipped under crisp white sheets and fell asleep within minutes after her head touched the pillow.