Chapter 16
Lamar was waiting on the street in front of his house when the taxi pulled up. Nydia had sent him a text informing him she would arrive around ten that morning. The last time he spoke to her he’d volunteered to pick her up, but she rejected his offer because she had someone who would drop her off. He’d thought that someone would be Jasmine and not a taxi driver.
He opened the rear door and picked up a large covered wicker picnic basket off the seat, and then extended his hand to help Nydia out. She held a large bouquet of flowers wrapped in colored cellophane in her left hand. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek. Lamar had stored everything about Nydia’s face in his indelible memory, and he found her equally beautiful with or without makeup. She’d brushed her hair and held it off her face with a wide white headband. With her bare face, long-sleeved black polo, jeans, and black ballet-type shoes she looked like a fresh-faced college coed.
“Hola.”
“Hello yourself,” she said, smiling. “Wait, I have to pay the driver.”
Lamar rested his free hand at the small of her back. “Don’t worry. I’ll pay him.” He waited for her to walk through the porte cochère to set the basket on the ground and reach into the pocket of his jeans for a money clip. He paid the man and then followed Nydia, opened the door, and stepped aside to let her enter.
“What on earth is in this basket? Rocks?”
Nydia gave him a mysterious smile. “It’s filled with goodness.”
Reaching for her free hand, he led her across the living and dining rooms and into the kitchen. “Kendra will be down in a few minutes.”
“There’s no need for her to rush. I have to empty the basket and wash everything before we begin prepping.”
Lamar set the basket on a stool at the cooking island. “Do you need me to help with anything?”
Nydia handed him the flowers. “These are for Miss Ramona.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “She’s not here. When I don’t have anything planned for the weekend, she always stays with her sister in Metairie. I have a vase but I know nothing about arranging flowers.”
“If you get the vase I’ll arrange them.”
Lamar knew if Ramona had been there she would have been overjoyed with the flowers. Working in the courtyard garden had become her passion when she’d first come to work for him. She told him he didn’t need a landscaper because her father had been one and that she’d learned to identify different trees, ferns, and flowers at a very early age. And taking her advice he didn’t re-sign with the landscaper and let her take over his duties. The result was a riot of floral cornucopia growing in precise abandon rivaling award-winning gardens on grand estates.
By the time he returned with the vase, Nydia had emptied the basket. Plastic bags with vegetables he couldn’t identify and some he was familiar with littered the countertop. A smile spread over his features. It was apparent she had gone to a butcher when he saw the pork shoulders.
“Please tell me you’re going to make perñil.”
Nydia’s head popped up. “Yes. I’m going to marinate the larger one overnight for Sunday dinner and use the smaller one for the pasteles. I also plan to make arroz con gandules, and tostones. I thought it was time to introduce your daughter to foods she’ll eat when you guys come up for Christmas.”
Lamar rubbed his hands together in anticipation of sitting down to a traditional Puerto Rican dinner with roast pork, fried plantains, and rice and with pigeon peas. When he’d asked Nydia if she was busy Sunday and she said no, he’d invited her to join him and Kendra at an award-winning local restaurant; she’d thanked him and then offered to make Sunday dinner, because she preferred cooking for herself to eating in restaurants.
“I’m certain she’s going to love eating Spanish food as much as her father.” Walking over to a cabinet, he opened it and tapped a button for the audio component. “What type of music do you want to listen to?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Lamar tuned the radio to a station featuring hip-hop and R&B, adjusted the volume, and programmed the speakers for the kitchen only. He’d concealed speakers in every room in the house and could regulate the volume with a remote device. He smiled when Rihanna singing “We Found Love” filled the space. “I love her music.” Lamar knew that if Kendra hadn’t been in the house he would have asked Nydia to dance with him.
Nydia nodded. “Me, too,” she agreed. “I have thirty of her greatest hits on my phone’s playlist. I was in grad school when this song dropped, and I remember going to a party and they played the extended version over and over. I danced so much that I couldn’t get out of the bed the next day.”
Lamar took a step, bringing them only inches apart. “One of these days we’re going to have our own private dance party when Kendra spends the weekend with some of her friends.”
She stared up at him through her lashes. “Is that when you plan to seduce me?”
Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “I hadn’t planned to seduce you, but now that you’ve mentioned it, perhaps I will.”
Going on tiptoe, Nydia leaned into him. “What if I am not ready?”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Then I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
She placed a hand over his heart. “You should back it up, cowboy, before your daughter sees you in a somewhat compromising situation.”
Lamar took a backward step. “Is that far enough?”
Nydia scrunched up her nose. “Take another step. And another one,” she said when he’d barely moved.
“All right,” he said, as he walked around the cooking island and rested his arms on the quartz countertop. “Is this far enough?”
“Sí, mi amor.”
Lamar went completely still while at the same time he held his breath. The endearment had rolled off Nydia’s tongue as if it was something she said without thinking. “Am I?”
She gave him a direct stare. All traces of gold had disappeared, leaving them rich verdant green. “Are you what?”
“Am I your love?”
Nydia shrugged her shoulders. “It’s just a figure of speech. Like you calling me sweets.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I see.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Tonya and Gage Toussaint invited us to their home next Sunday for brunch. You can bring Kendra, because Eustace’s grandchildren are also coming.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“There’s no special occasion. Tonya said it will be the first time they’re going to host a gathering as a married couple.”
“Are you aware that they live a couple of blocks from here?”
Nydia’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. “You’re kidding,” she said when recovering her voice.
“No. You didn’t know?”
She shook her head. “She held her wedding at Gage’s house and the reception in St. John’s garden, and I missed both because I was in the hospital.”
“You’re still experiencing discomfort, aren’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“I see you wincing and gritting your teeth every once in a while.”
* * *
Nydia peered into the basket. “I had to undergo an emergency appendectomy in June and I’m still healing.”
“How long were you in the hospital?”
“Four days.”
A slight frown furrowed Lamar’s smooth forehead. “Why so long?”
“I’d ignored the pain for almost a week, and by the time I went to the hospital the sepsis had spread throughout my body. They put me on massive doses of antibiotics to counter the infection.”
“You should’ve known something was wrong when you were in pain for that long.”
Nydia met his eyes. “At first I thought I’d pulled a muscle from either twisting my body the wrong way or lifting something that was too heavy. But when it became too intense I called my father and asked him to take me to the hospital. The entire ordeal taught me a valuable lesson: do not ignore pain, because there is definitely something wrong.”
Lamar ran a finger down the length of her nose. “My mother used to say a hard head makes for a soft behind.”
“Amen to that.”
He noticed Nydia looking at something over his shoulder and turned to find his daughter heading in their direction.
* * *
Nydia had just removed two aprons from the basket when Kendra entered the kitchen. “Are you ready for your first lesson?” she asked the tall, slender young girl who had covered her braided hair with a colorful bandana stamped with flags from different countries.
A shy smile parted Kendra’s lips as she met Nydia’s eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
Nydia winced. Kendra calling her “ma’am” made her feel much older than she was. “You may call me Nydia.”
Kendra nodded. “Okay, Miss Nydia.”
Suddenly it dawned on Nydia that some young people in the South addressed their elders as Miss or Mister. She handed Kendra an apron. “If you’re going to become a serious cook, then you need to wear an apron.”
Kendra opened the package and clapped a hand over her mouth when she unfolded the bright yellow bibbed apron with a spatula and whisk and Chef-in-Training stamped on the front. “I need to get my phone and take a picture of this to send to Morgan and Taylor.”
“You can send it later,” Lamar said, smiling. “Miss Nydia has a lot to go over with you, so the sooner you start, the more you’ll learn.”
Kendra slipped the apron over her head and secured the ties around her waist. “But can you videotape some of it so I can show it to my friends?”
Lamar paused, and then said, “If it’s okay with Miss Nydia, then I’ll do it.”
Nydia smiled at Kendra. “I don’t mind.” If the girl was serious about learning to cook, then she was willing to help document her progress. She waited for Lamar to leave the kitchen before reaching into the basket again. Nydia reached into the basket and removed a gaily wrapped package with a profusion of curling ribbons. “This is also for you, but you can open it later.” She’d given the girl a perfumed gift set of body gel, cream, and matching cologne. Nydia’s mother had presented her with a similar gift set the year she turned eleven to keep her from sneaking into her bedroom to spray herself with her expensive perfume.
Kendra’s reaction was totally unexpected when her eyes filled with tears. Her chin trembled as she tried composing herself. “Thank you, Miss Nydia.” Seconds later she launched herself at Nydia and hugged her so tightly that she was unable to draw a normal breath.
Nydia kissed the girl’s cheek. “You’re welcome. Now, you’re going to have to let me go so we can begin.”
Kendra managed a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that.”
She winked at her. “That’s okay. The first thing we’re going to do is wash the vegetables to get off any dirt or preservatives.” She handed Kendra several pairs of disposable latex gloves. “We’ll use the gloves when it comes time to work with the raw meat.” Nydia didn’t want to say that touching raw meat was her pet peeve. “The recipe I’m going to use will make about two dozen pasteles.”
Lamar had returned with a small camcorder. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that all you’re making?”
Nydia gave him a direct stare. “Once I go back to New York I’ll be up to my eyeballs making more than one hundred for family and friends, so to answer your question: yes, two dozen is enough.”
“Daddy, please,” Kendra pleaded. “Miss Nydia and I need to start our lesson.”
He held up his hands in supplication. “Okay. I’m going to sit here and watch. Let me know what you want me to record.”
“Kendra and I are going to begin making sofrito, which is a recipe that is essential to flavor Latin dishes. It’s easy to make and can be frozen.”
Lamar nodded. “Let me know when I should start recording.”
Over the next two hours Nydia showed Kendra how to make sofrito, which Lamar recorded from beginning to end, the pork stock, and pork filling, and the root vegetable batter.
They took a break to eat a bowl of gumbo the housekeeper had prepared, and after Lamar retreated to his office, Nydia and Kendra concentrated on spooning the batter and pork filling, and topping it with olives and pieces of red pepper from alcaparrado—a mixture of olives, pimentos, and capers—on pieces of parchment paper, wrapping it tightly before securing the tamales with kitchen twine.
“Some people wrap the pasteles in parchment in banana leaves, but my grandmother never used them when she made hers.”
Kendra washed her hands in the double sink with an automatic faucet. “We made more than two dozen.”
Nydia nodded. “You’re right. It is more like three. We can have them for dinner with a salad.” The built-in refrigerator /freezer was stocked with dairy, fresh fruit, and produce.
“What kind of salad, Miss Nydia?”
“Miss Ramona has feta cheese, so we can make a Greek salad.”
“I like cooking,” Kendra said as she dried her hands on a cotton towel. “Can we do this again?”
“I’m coming back tomorrow to prepare Sunday dinner, and I’m going to need an assistant when I make perñil, rice with pigeon peas, and fried green bananas. Usually I’ll marinate the pork for two to three days, this time it will be overnight.”
Kendra’s dark eyes shimmered with excitement. “What kind of marinade are we going to use?”
“I like a wet rub that’s known as adobo mojito made with peeled garlic, and either sea or kosher salt, black peppercorns, dried oregano, olive oil, and white vinegar. I noticed Miss Ramona doesn’t have a mortar and pestle, so I’m going to use the bottom of a cast iron skillet to pound the garlic cloves and salt into a paste, before incorporating the peppercorns and oregano into the paste. After that we’ll add the oil and vinegar. While I’m making the rub I want you to take a sharp knife and make slits in the pork shoulder to fill them with the wet rub.”
Kendra’s eyebrows flickered a little. “How do you remember what to do without looking at a recipe book?”
“I’ve had a lot of years of practice. When I was a little girl I used to go to my grandmother’s house and sit on a stool to watch her cook. By the time I was your age she let me help her. I hated having to go to the supermarket with her to pick out what she needed for a particular dish. She’d tell me, ‘Tráeme un poco de culantro,’ which translates as ‘bring me some culantro’ in English. When I’d bring her cilantro she would lecture me sternly that culantro is not the same as cilantro. She liked it because its flavor is more intense than cilantro.”
“But, Miss Nydia, we made the sofrito with only cilantro,”
Nydia smiled. It was apparent her student was very astute. “That’s because I couldn’t find any when I went to the market.”
Kendra rested her elbows on the countertop. “Who taught you to speak Spanish?”
“My grandmother.”
“Do your parents speak Spanish?”
“Yes. Even though they were born in New York they learned the language from their parents and grandparents. But, like a lot of New York Puerto Ricans, when they talk they tend to mix both languages. It’s known as Spanglish.”
“Give me an example.”
“Instead of saying I’m going to the park, they’ll say, ‘I’m going to the parque.’ Or ‘bring me un container of leche’ for a container of milk.”
“Next year I’ll go into the seventh grade and I have to select a foreign language. I’ve decided to choose Spanish because my dad speaks it.”
Nydia wondered if Kendra had overheard her father speaking the language or if he’d told her. “The easiest way to learn a language is to speak it. Once you become familiar with certain words you should practice with him.”
“Morgan and Taylor said they are taking Mandarin, while the Kelly girls are taking French.” Kendra paused, seemingly deep in thought. “Tell me how it was to grow up in New York.”
* * *
Lamar returned to the kitchen in time to hear Nydia answer his daughter’s questions about her life as a child in New York City. Nydia was the first woman he’d introduced to his daughter since becoming a widower, and he couldn’t believe his good fortune, because she seemed to get along well with Kendra. She was patient as she demonstrated how Kendra should slice something, and was effusive in her praise when she accomplished it.
He was still uncertain emotionally when it came time for him to assess his feelings for Nydia. Everything about her screamed an unadulterated sexiness he’d found missing in many of the women he’d met, whether socially or professionally. And there were times when he could not understand her need to play down her sexiness. When he’d strolled through the Lower Quarter with her he’d noticed men giving her furtive glances, which only served to bolster his male pride in having her on his arm. The chic hairstyle, her flawless gold-brown complexion, and brilliant jewel-like eyes, pert nose, lush mouth, and curvy, compact, petite body definitely garnered a second or third glance. Although she was shorter and less endowed than the women to whom he’d found himself attracted, there was something about Nydia that had him mesmerized.
And what he really appreciated was her frankness. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind; that was something that had irked him with Valerie. His wife would occasionally shut down rather than discuss things that she deemed important to her. He’d believed she was experiencing postpartum depression after Kendra was born. It was he who got up in the middle of the night to walk the floor in an attempt to comfort the crying infant, and he also learned to feed, bathe, and change his daughter whenever Valerie took to her bed and refused to leave.
Making love with his wife had become a thing of the past, and when he suggested she see a doctor to talk about what he believed was depression, she turned on him like an agitated mother bird protecting her young and said there was nothing wrong with her. The impasse continued until Kendra celebrated her second birthday, and that was when Valerie talked about hiring a live-in housekeeper because she was going back to work.
Lamar would have agreed to anything if only to get back the woman he had fallen in love with and married. Once Valerie received the okay to go back to work she was like a colorful butterfly emerging from a cocoon to spread its wings. Each time she returned home from a flight the house was filled with laughter and a gaiety he had come to anticipate. As long as Valerie was flying off to different cities she was like a kid in a candy shop. It took a long time for him to believe she wasn’t coming home, and he knew he had to be both mother and father to a young girl who would grow up without her mother. He had put Kendra in counseling, but he knew it was difficult for a six-year-old to understand and accept the inevitability of death; she’d asked about her mother for more than three months before she appeared to accept that her mother wasn’t coming back.
Lamar wasn’t looking a mother for his daughter, but if asked, he definitely would have considered someone like Nydia. And watching her interact with Kendra filled him with conflicting emotions as to whether he wanted her in his and Kendra’s life. There was no doubt she would be a positive role model for Kendra, who needed to look up to a strong, educated, and independent woman who was not afraid to speak her mind.
“When’s dinner?” Nydia and Kendra turned around at the same time.
“Daddy, we just ate lunch.”
He entered the kitchen and sat on a stool. “That was just a snack.” Lamar peered at the clock on the microwave. “That was nearly three hours ago. Right now I’m feenin’ for pasteles.”
“There’s no such word as feening,” Kendra countered.
“Yes there is. You tell her, Nydia,” Lamar insisted.
“Well, it’s really not a word, but people use it when they say they’re craving something.”
“Well, that’s what you should have said, Daddy. You always tell me to use the right word, and now you’re not.”
Lamar managed to look contrite. His daughter was right, because he constantly corrected her when she said something that didn’t remotely resemble the English language. “You’re right, and I apologize.”
She inclined her head, laughing. “I accept your apology.”
Nydia also laughed and said, “You’re going to have to crave them a bit longer because it’s going to take at least an hour for them to cook. Meanwhile, I can make you a fruit salad.”
“Hold off on the fruit salad. I’ll get a beer instead to tide me over while I watch the game.”
Kendra leaned in close to Nydia’s ear and whispered, “Daddy loves sports. He watches baseball, football, and basketball. And sometimes he goes to football games.”
“I heard that,” Lamar called out as he opened the door to the refrigerator.
“There’s nothing wrong with being into sports,” Nydia said to Kendra. “In fact I’ve been to Yankee Stadium to watch the Yankees and Citi Field for the Mets. The executives at the company where I used to work would purchase season tickets to all of the local professional sports teams for their elite clients and would sometimes give them away as perks for their employees.”
“How about football games?” Lamar asked.
Nydia shook her head. “I’m not really into football or hockey. I like baseball and then basketball.”
Lamar removed the cap from the beer and took a long swallow. “I occasionally get tickets to the Pelicans basketball games. Would you ladies be willing to go with me?”
“Can I go, too?” Kendra asked. A frown had settled between her eyes.
“I did say ‘ladies.’ ”
“I’m not a lady, Daddy. I’m still a girl.”
“Of course you’re a girl, but you are also a young lady.”
Kendra’s expression brightened. “I like that. And yes, I would like to go to a basketball game.”
Lamar winked at Nydia smirking at him. “When I get the tickets I’ll let you know the date and time.”
He knew attending sporting and social events with Nydia would start tongues wagging about his relationship with her. The Pierces had deep roots in New Orleans going back at least four generations, and his father had established a reputation as the go-to orthodontist. When he was growing up, people who knew Lamar rarely called him by his name. He and his sister were known as Dr. Pierce’s girl and boy.
* * *
Lamar curved an arm around Nydia’s waist as he escorted her into the elevator. The two days when she’d come to his house to cook had sped by much too quickly, and he wasn’t certain who enjoyed her company more: he or Kendra. He had uploaded the videotaped segments of them cooking together on Saturday and Sunday to Kendra’s phone for her to share with her friends. And he had to agree with Kendra that the dishes Nydia prepared were exceptional.
Ramona had returned from Metairie Sunday afternoon in time to share dinner with them, and she, too, raved about the roast pork, rice, and pigeon peas, and the thin crisp slices of fried green bananas; they had the option of eating them plain or topping them with mojito—a garlic dipping sauce. His housekeeper plied Nydia with countless questions about what she used to season the pork, the ingredients for sofrito and mojito. Kendra proudly announced she knew how to make sofrito and offered to create another batch once they used the containers stored in the freezer. Lamar had sampled Nydia’s Southern and Latin dishes and found her equally proficient with both.
“You know Kendra’s going to talk my ear off about you when I get home.”
“You’re very lucky, and she’s a joy to be around.”
Lamar loved his daughter unconditionally; however, there were times when she tested his patience. He’d learned early on that she was strong-willed, and he was careful not to break her spirit, because he wanted to her grow up to become a strong, independent woman who did not have to depend on a man to take care of her. “I think I’ll keep her,” he teased.
Nydia smiled. “If you don’t want her, I’d be more than willing to take her off your hands.”
Lamar didn’t know whether Nydia was teasing or serious, that if their relationship became permanent, she would be willing to be a stepmother to his daughter. “And the first time you experience one of her funky attitudes you’ll send her back without further ado.”
The car arrived at the designated floor, and Nydia stepped out. “What you have to understand is that she’s a young girl whose hormones are in flux, and that may be responsible for her mood swings. She’ll soon be eleven, and some girls her age are already menstruating, so I advise you to buckle up and take the ride with her. One day she’ll be that adorable little girl you used to hold in your arms and rock her to sleep, and the next day she may slam doors and scream that you’re ruining her life.”
“Is that what happened to you?” Lamar asked as he walked Nydia to her suite.
She swiped her key card. “The only thing I’m going to attest to is that I spent a lot of time being grounded.”
Reaching over her head, he pushed open the door and entered the suite before her. Late afternoon shadows filled the space where Nydia hadn’t drawn the drapes. Lamar closed the door and took her in his arms and buried his face in the thickness of her hair. “Do you know that you drive me crazy?”
Nydia wound her arms around Lamar’s waist. She had fought her feelings for the man who had not only become her protector but also had helped her heal enough to trust getting involved again. She was more than aware of the restraint both had exercised because of his daughter’s presence. The few times Lamar touched her hand or his body brushed against hers she struggled not to react to the sensations coursing through her. And she knew if Kendra hadn’t been there the fragile wall she’d built to dam up sexual desire would have snapped, and she might have begged him to make love to her.
She enjoyed making love with a man. It had been that way with her two former lovers, and it had taken Herculean strength to forfeit that phase in her life. Even weeks after she’d ended her relationships the urge for physical gratification was slow to wane. Now it was back—with a vengeance. Nydia did not know what it was about Lamar that had rekindled the need to make love with him. Perhaps it had something to do with his revealing that within seconds of meeting her for the first time her presence had triggered an erection, which had planted a seed of curiosity in her mind.
Easing back, she tried to make out his expression in the muted light. “We both agreed we’re too old to play head games, so I need to tell you something.”
“Is it something that’s going to ruin what we’ve shared the past two days?”
Nydia rested a hand along his jaw, and her fingertips grazed the emerging stubble. “Oh, ye of little faith,” she teased, smiling. “I want you to know that I like you, Lamar.”
His dark eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” she countered.
“You know how I feel about you, so what are we going to do about it?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you. After all, you’re the one who is a single dad.”
“That’s no longer relevant, because Kendra really likes you. She told me that last night after you’d left, and wanted to know if I was going to go out with you.”
“What did you say?”
Lamar smiled. “I told her I was thinking about it. That’s when she told me not to think too long because she did not want some other man to—I think the phrase she used was ‘scoop you up.’ ”
Going on tiptoe, Nydia kissed his warm throat. “Tell her not to worry because I’m not looking for a man to scoop me up. I like her father too much for that.”
Lamar lifted her effortlessly off her feet as his demanding lips caressed hers in a kiss that left her struggling to breath, and Nydia kissed him with a hunger that shouted to be assuaged. Never in her life had she wanted a man as much as she did at that moment. But she didn’t want Lamar to make love to her and then get up to go back home. If or when they did sleep together she wanted them to spend hours together and wake up the next day in each other’s arms.
It was with great reluctance that she ended the kiss. “To be continued,” she whispered.
Lamar was breathing as heavily as she was. “Right place, wrong time,” he intoned.
She inclined her head. “I agree. “Buenas noches, mi amor.”
Cradling her face in his hands, Lamar pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night, my love.”
Nydia waited until she’d closed the door behind Lamar’s departing figure and then sank to the floor. “What have I committed to?” she asked aloud. She had agreed to become involved with a single father with a tween daughter who wanted him to date her, but hadn’t said anything about wanting her father to possibly have a future with her. And for Nydia dating did not necessarily translate into marriage.
She had to ask herself about the intent of her involvement with Lamar Pierce and his daughter. She knew Kendra liked her because she wanted to learn to cook to show up her peers, and she wondered if that was the only ulterior motive for her wanting Lamar to continue to see her.
There were times when Nydia realized she would overthink a situation, and this was one of them. It was something she needed to discuss with Jasmine when she saw her before they went to the bowling alley.
She pushed off the floor and walked into her bedroom. First she would take a shower and get into bed and reread a Jane Austen novel she knew almost verbatim. All of her heroines in her favorite author’s novel were only concerned with falling in love and finding a suitor with means to marry. Well, at thirty-three she would never be a Jane Austen heroine because she was too old to be considered for marriage. The only exception was if she were a wealthy widow.
Nydia chided herself for getting ahead of herself. She would date Lamar, enjoy her times with him, and if or when it ended she would have wonderful memories to look back on.