Holding the red beaded necklace up to the sleeveless black turtleneck, Valerie moved her head to the left and right. No. It didn’t look like casual date night. It still looked like board room ready. She unhooked the shirt from the valet and hung it back up in her closet.

Obviously, she overthought this. If she didn’t have a date, a romantic boy-girl date, with Brad Dixon, what would she wear to her friend’s restaurant opening? She wanted to come across as chic, casual, and light-hearted. She’d built her wardrobe around professional, woman-take-charge. How did she merge those two worlds?

Digging through her dresser drawer, she found a pair of black faux leather leggings. Inspiration struck, and she went back to the closet, digging into the back and coming out with an off-the-shoulder white shirt she’d never worn because she didn’t like the longer length. It would go perfectly with the leggings. Add a pair of ankle-high black boots, and voila! Yes!

She draped the leggings over the valet and hung the shirt above them. Stepping back and looking at the whole ensemble, she nodded. Yes. This worked. She just had to keep herself from over-accessorizing it and taking it above the level of “comfortable relaxed” that she intended.

Now that she’d covered tomorrow’s date outfit, she needed to focus on her work outfit. As she approached her closet, the doorbell ringing made her freeze in her tracks. Who would possibly ring her doorbell?

Mouth dry, heart pounding so loudly she could hear it, she moved as quietly as possible, leaving her room and tiptoeing down the hallway. At the edge of the hall, she put her back to the wall and quickly ducked her head around the corner to try to see through the glass in the door. As soon as she saw the crown of a very familiar head, she leaned her head back on the wall, pressed her palms flat against the wall, and closed her eyes. She intentionally took a deep breath through her nose and slowly let it out through her mouth.

Pushing away from the wall, she walked calmly toward the door, ignoring the trickle of sweat that slid down her back.

“Uncle Buddy, hi,” she greeted with a smile that she hoped look casual and relaxed. When he smiled, she swung the door open wider.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced. I was inspecting a house and realized I was only a block away.”

“No, I’m glad you’re here.” She automatically locked the deadbolt when he came inside. “I made chili this morning. Put it in the slow cooker. Would you like some?”

His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “That would be wonderful. I’d love some.” She led him into the kitchen where she’d already laid out her bowl and spoon. Reaching into the cupboard, she took out another bowl.

“That smells so good.”

“I’d planned on just having chili, but I can make you a salad or something.”

“Child, no need for all that.”

Steam poured out of the cooker when she lifted the lid. She noticed she still had a slight tremor in her hand and really hoped Buddy didn’t notice. “I have some cheddar in the fridge.”

From behind her, she heard him open the refrigerator door and shut it again. When he came back into her line of sight, he had a bag of shredded cheese and a pitcher. “Is this tea?”

“Raspberry tea. Sweetened with honey.” She pulled open a drawer, grabbed a spoon, and slid it shut with her hip. The look of confusion on his face as he stared down at the pitcher made her chuckle. “You might like it.”

“I’m willing to find out.”

Laughing, she carried the bowls to the table. Buddy set the pitcher and cheese down while she turned back to get glasses. Once she’d filled them with ice, she poured tea and finally sat down. Buddy started to sit, too, when she said, “I forgot napkins.”

“I’ll get them. Tell me where.”

“Paper towel roll is hanging above the sink.” While he was gone, she sprinkled cheese liberally over the chili in her bowl, watching as the finely shredded pieces immediately started to melt when they came in contact with the hot liquid. “Hot sauce is in the cupboard to the right of the stove.”

Seconds later, Buddy returned. He set the paper towels on the table and set the hot pepper sauce next to his bowl. She waited, not eating yet, knowing he would want to pray for blessing over the meal.

He sat down and immediately bowed his head. “God, thanks for this chance to spend time with my niece. And bless the food. Thank you for letting this old bachelor enjoy a home-cooked meal.”

She picked up her spoon when he did. “You are perfectly capable of making homemade meals, you know. You don’t have to wait to get one from someone else.”

“Oh, I know that. Don’t let anyone else find out though.” He winked at her as he liberally doused his bowl with hot sauce. “Problem is I work. I work a lot.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t?”

“Weeeeellll,” he drawled out the word, giving it an extra syllable and saying much without saying anything. “You always were more organized with this kind of thing than me. When we got our own place, it was you who did the cooking and shopping. Honestly, I was relieved not to have to worry about it anymore.”

Valerie chuckled. “Are you serious? ‘Anymore?’ Uncle Buddy, you never one single time ever had to worry about it. First, Auntie Rose took pity on you and fed us, and then I did it because it was do it or go hungry while I waited for you to bring junk food or fast food or soul food home.” She pointed her spoon at him. “That doesn’t change what I said. You are perfectly capable. And I’ve been gone a long time. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust.”

“Hmph.” He made the noise around a mouthful of chili. After a few moments of silent eating, he set his spoon down and sat back in his seat. “I did want to talk to you about something.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Wondered if you’d had a chance to check your calendar for the library dedication at Sweetwater Church. It’s just a week away, and you haven’t said a thing. Now, this is important to me.”

Guilt clawed through her chest. She knew it was important to him. She should go for that reason alone. However, Valerie set her spoon down and crossed her arms on top of the table. “I checked my schedule. I’m afraid I cannot go. However, I can go to the Braves game Thursday after next. How does that sound?”

He slowly shook his head. “What could you have on a Sunday afternoon that would interfere with something I informed you about a couple weeks ago? Are you getting married?”

A slow burn of anger crept up her chest and she pushed the guilt aside. “The truth is, I don’t have anything that would interfere. I simply do not want to attend.”

He raised both his eyebrows as a startled look covered his face. “Don’t want to? How could you not want to go see your own parents get memorialized in such a beautiful way?”

The burn moved up her neck and over her face. Before she could keep the words inside, they spilled out of her in a bitter gush. “Why would I want to go honor two people who abandoned me at the age of three? Left me in the care of a thirty-five-year-old bachelor so they could go preach Jesus to a bunch of gangbangers. Those very same criminals ended up murdering them in a drive-by shooting, leaving me to make my way in a world with no parents? How is that worthy of my respect?”

She stood, snatching her bowl and spoon and marching them into the kitchen. She tossed them into the sink. The sound of the porcelain bowl crashing into the stainless steel sink did nothing to calm her fury. When she turned, she nearly ran into Buddy. “Calm down, girl,” he said, and the words acted like fuel getting tossed on the fire.

“Calm down? Calm down?” Her voice echoed around them. “What do I have to be calm about? You know what? Forget it. You don’t care about me or what happened to me. You only care about the perception of me, and I’m unwilling to let that be what defines me.”

His eyebrows snapped together in a frown. “Perception of you? You best explain yourself.”

“I was happy!” Hot tears streaked down her face, and she angrily wiped at them. “Do you not understand what you did to me? You started to say something about it when I first came back and I just brushed you off and lifted you up, but the fact is, I was happy. I was secure. I was loved. And you ripped me away from that so that you could get me out of my, quote, rich white school. You took me away from everything I knew and all the love I had, then left me at home alone all the time. I’d hear you leave at five-thirty in the morning and come home at ten every night. How was that better for me?”

He opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally said, “It was good for you to get out of the sheltered life and enter the real world.”

“Why?” she spewed, “so that I could hook up with the first guy who smiled at me and then end up thrown off a balcony? That was very wise of you.”

“That’s not on me, girl!” He waved a finger at her. “I didn’t make those choices for you.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, as if to protect herself from the thought, she said, “So it’s my fault?”

“Of course not.” He took a deep breath and released it. “But decisions you made took you from A to B to C. You were an adult.”

Angry words filled her mouth but she swallowed them. She knew as well as he did that she made her own choices. She didn’t choose to get beaten nearly to death, but she did choose to hook up with a married man fifteen years her senior. She didn’t choose to get thrown off a building, but she did choose to move in with him even though he had already begun the heavy drinking and the mental abuse. She knew she carried responsibility for her own actions, but she would not sit by and let him voice that blame. It felt like a betrayal from the one person who was supposed to love her.

“I was fifteen when you took me out of a loving home and set me in a house by myself. Auntie Rose—”

“Is not your mama!” Buddy’s voice echoed around the room. “She is my best friend’s wife, but she is not your mama. Your mama loved you from the second she found out about you.”

“Yeah. Love,” she said the word like it tasted bad on her tongue. “Love had her leaving me and going across the country when I was so young that every single memory I have of her is from a photograph.” She stretched out her arm and pointed to the side, as if pointing toward the Dixon castle. “Auntie Rose is every bit a mother to me. She did everything for me and loved me like I was her own. You taking me away from that because of skin color?” Putting her hands on the side of her head, she made an uncontrollable noise that sounded like a wounded animal. “Don’t spend years raising me to believe skin pigmentation doesn’t matter then rip my world apart in the name of ‘diversity’. You want to know why I took off to Savannah and never looked back? Because you hurt me. You crushed me. I didn’t even know how to say it to you at the time, but there it is.”

Buddy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Valerie, you’re almost thirty years old. Why are you just now putting this on me?”

Defeated, she looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. Absently, she rubbed at her hip. “Because I didn’t understand the depth of my hurt until a counselor helped me uncover it last year.”

“Well, ain’t that just something?” He turned to leave the kitchen, but she could still hear every word. “Some quack headshrinker convinces you that every bad decision in your life is my fault ‘cause I did my level darnedest to raise you when that was never the plan for my life. And because a stranger who never even met me says it out loud, you just buy it hook, line, and sinker.”

She didn’t speak but followed him out of the kitchen and met him by the door. “I’ll tell you something that won’t surprise you,” he said. “I ain’t buying it. Now, look here. You come to your parents’ memorial service. You do it for me and everything I ever sacrificed for you. You already know the time and the place. I expect you to be there.” He unlocked the deadbolt and threw the door open. “I won’t be asking you again.”

She locked the deadbolt and the chain on the door, then stumbled into her living room, falling facedown on the couch. Sorrow washed over her like a wave, and she sobbed into the pillow.