If Rachel weren’t sitting there, witnessing this herself, she’d swear it was impossible. She fiddled with her purse strap, tapped her foot, then stood and paced nervously around the waiting room. Even though the room was adorned with contemporary furniture and a state-of-the-art television, it still felt cold and uninviting.
Rachel made her way over to the receptionist’s desk and tapped on the window.
“Yes, ma’am?” the receptionist asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.
“How much longer?” Rachel asked the woman.
The young woman pushed her cat-eye glasses up on her face and sneered, “Ma’am, like I told you the last three times you asked me in the past thirty minutes, it shouldn’t be much longer.”
Rachel gritted her teeth in an effort to stay calm. She wanted to school this girl on her customer service skills, but right now Rachel’s thoughts were focused on something much more important. Right now, she simply wanted to know what was happening on the other side of that door.
“Fine,” Rachel said, but the girl closed the window before she finished the word.
Rachel stood, taking in the surroundings. Her eyes stopped on the sign above the front door: DNA TECHNOLOGIES: WE HELP YOU GET TO THE TRUTH. That’s all she wanted. The truth.
Rachel still couldn’t believe she was here. That they were here. She turned just as the lobby doors opened.
“I simply detest public restrooms,” Mae Frances said as she wobbled her old frame back over to the chair in the corner. “I need to call up Ben and ask him to prescribe something for my bladder.”
Not that she cared about this old woman’s bladder, but Rachel asked anyway. “Who is Ben?”
“Carson. He’s a world-renowned doctor. Well, he wouldn’t be if I hadn’t helped him get into that good school. But now he done lost his mind, all on TV talking a whole buncha foolishness when he was trying to be president, so on second thought, I don’t think I’ll call.”
Rachel sighed. She had no desire to entertain this woman and her delusions. Granted, Mae Frances had proven she was well connected, but there was no way she knew all the people she claimed to know.
“Excuse me,” Rachel said, turning back to the receptionist’s window and tapping again.
The receptionist snatched the window open. “Yes?”
“Does it always take this long?”
The girl slammed her hand on her desk. “Look, lady!”
Rachel had had enough. She was exhausted and her tolerance level was past its limit. Jasmine had called her early yesterday, agreeing to take the test, so Rachel had taken the first flight out and come to New York. Jasmine was adamant that the test be done in New York and Rachel was adamant that she, Rachel, find the lab, just in case Jasmine got any bright ideas about paying someone off to get the results she wanted. Rachel had spent all yesterday doing that, had flown out the first thing this morning, and hadn’t even been to the hotel to drop her suitcase off. So she was not in the mood for this rude, nine-dollar-an-hour teenybopper.
“No, you look. Your job is to sit here and answer questions, and if I have a question, you need to answer it. You got one more time to snap at me before I lose my religion and show you what happens to disrespectful little twerps!”
Mae Frances spoke up before the girl could reply. “Rachelle, just come over here and have a seat. The girl doesn’t know any more than she’s already told you.”
Rachel’s nerves had reached their boiling point. She spun around to face Mae Frances. “My name is Rachel and tell me again why you’re even here? This has nothing to do with you.”
Mae Frances glared at Rachel for a minute before saying, “Little girl, you’re lucky I know Jesus now. And you need to be thanking Him that I am here because if I wasn’t, Jasmine Larson wouldn’t be here, either. The only reason she agreed to have this test is because I told her to. I could’ve told her that you really were a crackpot and if I had, you’d never have the answers you so desperately crave.”
Rachel inhaled, trying to calm herself. She didn’t need to be snapping at Mae Frances. When Jasmine had called her and agreed to the test, Rachel hadn’t even bothered to ask what had changed Jasmine’s mind. She should’ve known it was Mae Frances. Rachel didn’t know what kind of hold that woman had over Jasmine. After all, who in their right mind wanted to be best friends with Moses’s grandma? But at that very moment, Rachel was grateful for whatever Mae Frances had done. Jasmine was here and soon they’d know the truth. Soon they’d put this ridiculous notion of being sisters to rest.
“I’m sorry, Mae Frances,” Rachel said, genuinely apologetic. “I really appreciate you helping us get to the bottom of this.”
“Hmph” was all she replied.
“I mean, I’m just on edge. And I’m exhausted. I had to drop everything and get back to New York. I wish we could’ve done this in Houston. I already had a clinic set up to rush the results.”
“Chile, please, so you can have one of your hoodrat friends fix the test?” Mae Frances laughed.
This woman had better be glad she was dealing with a different Rachel now. Because back in the day . . . “Number one, I don’t have hoodrat friends,” Rachel said. “Anymore. And number two, I want to be Jasmine’s sister about as much as she wants to be mine.”
A small smirk crept up on Mae Frances’s face.
“What?” Rachel asked.
“I think you want the test to be positive.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Just a little. But the fact remains, you and Jasmine Larson act like sisters anyway. It wouldn’t surprise me none. Although it would be quite funny.”
“Whatever,” Rachel said as she went back to pacing.
“Don’t be mad at me because your poppa was a rolling stone.”
“He was not!”
Mae Frances chuckled. “Laying his hat at Jasmine Larson’s momma’s home.”
“Really, Mae Frances?” Rachel said, irritated. “Now, you’re biting off Temptation lyrics, trying to make jokes.”
“Actually, those are my lyrics. I gave them to Smokey Robinson one night when he—”
“Ugh,” Rachel said, shaking her head as she walked back over to the reception desk to demand some answers about what was taking so long. But before she could ask the receptionist again, the door swung open and Jasmine walked out. Her eyes were puffy, like she’d been crying and she looked . . . scared.
“Are you okay?” Rachel gently asked.
“Yes,” Jasmine said. Rachel waited on some smart remark, some condescending comeback, but Jasmine said nothing as she pulled her sweater around her like she’d suddenly gotten a chill.
Jasmine swallowed, then her voice quivered as she said, “I’ve been done for a while. I just had to take a moment to myself.”
Rachel could only imagine how Jasmine was feeling and she knew now wasn’t the time to give her grief. “Jasmine, I’m sorry you have to go through this. I know we both just—”
“Look, you got your stupid DNA test,” Jasmine snapped, cutting her off. “They are rushing the results and will courier them over tomorrow, so tomorrow we can put an end to all of this foolishness and you can leave me alone.”
Rachel didn’t say anything, but only because she didn’t know what to say.
“Come on, Jasmine Larson,” Mae Frances said, appearing at Jasmine’s side. “The car is outside. Hosea has been blowing up my phone. He’s at the apartment.”
Jasmine nodded, then looked over at Rachel. “I’ll call you tomorrow when the courier arrives.”
“Can . . . can you wait so that we can open them together?”
Jasmine released a long sigh. “Fine, Rachel.”
Mae Frances took Jasmine’s arm. Rachel wanted to ask if all that was necessary since they’d only drawn a little blood, but the look in Jasmine’s eyes said she was in much more pain than a needle prick could ever deliver.
“Let’s get you home to your family,” Mae Frances said as she led Jasmine out of the lobby.
Rachel stood, watching them leave. Could I be her family? Rachel found herself wondering.
She shook off that thought. No sense driving herself crazy. One more day. Tomorrow, they’d know the truth.