fixed breakfast,” Raquel said. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to.” She stepped into the room, balancing the tray.
Ann Marie looked at her daughter and saw the spitting image of the child’s father; the dark, almost haunting eyes, shadowed by sweeping black brows and a mass of hair that resembled black cotton candy. Oh, yes, Terrance was a looker and so was his daughter.
Raquel gently placed the tray on her mother’s lap. “I’ll leave you to your food.” She turned to go.
Was that a motherly pang she felt tightening her chest at the sad look in her daughter’s eyes? She felt as if she should say something, do something. But she had no idea what.
The door closed quietly behind Raquel. The moment was gone.
Ann Marie toyed with her bacon and eggs. She took a sip of orange juice. What was she going to do about Raquel? There was no way she could let her stay indefinitely. Her mama had put her out on her own at sixteen and she’d never looked back, although she’d wanted to. But her mama had been very clear about having another grown woman in the house beside her. No good, her mama said.
Her situation was different, however. There was more to it than simply having another woman in the house, even if it was her daughter. She sighed and took a bite of bacon. She couldn’t explain it to the girls and she never even voiced her fears out loud. The truth—she was afraid. She couldn’t face the look of disappointment that she knew would linger in those beautiful eyes. So instead of risking that, she would have to make Raquel go, go to wherever it was she needed to be. Anyplace other than here.
By the time Ann Marie finished her breakfast, bathed and dressed, Raquel was gone.
Ann Marie moved slowly through her one-bedroom condo. She checked the living room where Raquel spent the night. Everything was in its place. The smoked-glass tables were spotless, the pillows on the couch were properly fluffed, no dust on the wood floors, and her imported area rug was exactly where it was supposed to be. The bathroom and kitchen were equally as spotless. It was almost as if no one lived there. Almost.
She breathed in deeply the empty air, hoping perhaps to catch at least a brief hint of Raquel’s scent. Even that was absent.
She should be relieved. She put her breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. Oddly, she wasn’t. Walking into the bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet in search of her bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. She shook out two gel caps and tossed them down her throat with some water. It would take a good ten to twenty minutes for the full effect to kick in. They’d really tied one on last night and she was paying dearly for it this morning.
Ann Marie frowned, trying to bring the events of the prior evening into focus as she walked back to her bedroom. It seemed that everyone was in some kind of turmoil, as if a cloud of unrest had settled on their quiet block. Ellie with her cheating husband; Stephanie with a boss who wanted more than nine-to-five and good old conservative Barbara being pursued by a boy toy.
She shook her head and laughed. Then snippets of their conversation began to come back to her, something about showcasing men.
Right! She snapped her fingers as the details became clear. A slow smile tipped the corners of her mouth. Yes, even in the light of day their idea was a winner. And if memory served her, she was the first link in the chain.
Picking up her pace, she went into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. She’d need to be clearheaded.
While the coffee brewed, Ann Marie turned on her computer in the small room at the end of the hall that she used as an office. She placed her notebook and several empty manila folders on the desk then turned on the printer. To keep her company she popped in a John Legend CD then went to get her coffee.
If there was one thing Ann Marie knew hands down it was a good piece of property—and a man, of course. But finding a true gem of a building and understanding its potential gave her a rush equivalent to sexual expectation.
She smiled to herself as she added Sweet’n Low to her coffee with a dash of canned milk.
Ann Marie had been in the real-estate game for more than fifteen years. Her master’s degree in urban economics helped her to fully appreciate the power of ownership and how easily poor communities can become no more than a memory in a matter of a few short years once an investor with a keen eye discovers the value of a particular area.
She’d been telling her friends for years that they needed to invest in some property. Of course, Ellie was already married with a home, but Barbara and Stephanie came up with one excuse after another why they couldn’t buy.
The area of Harlem where they lived, an area where houses couldn’t be given away ten years earlier, was now so expensive that it was unreachable for most. At least she owned her apartment, and a four-story apartment building on the lower east side of Manhattan that was finally paying for itself after eight years. And she had a town house.
Yes, she’d done well for herself without the help or support of anyone. Her mother putting her out and her leaving Terrance were the best things to happen to her. Yes, they were.
Her throat tightened. No, she didn’t need anyone. And the quicker Raquel understood that the better off she would be.
She took her coffee cup into her office. She had work to do and wanted to have some viable locations to show the girls as soon as possible.
Just as she sat down in front of the computer screen, the phone rang. She let it ring three times while she debated whether or not to pick it up. Curiosity won out.
She picked up the extension off the wall in the office.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby.”
“Phil.” A fire lit her up inside at the sound of his voice. “Where are you?”
“Still out in L.A. I was hoping to leave on Monday, but things are taking longer than we anticipated.”
“Oh.” She sat down in the leather swivel chair and slowly spun in a circle, cradling the phone to her ear.
“Don’t sound so down, baby. I should be home by next weekend. And then we can spend five whole days making up for lost time.”
She laughed then stopped suddenly. Raquel.
“You, okay? Something wrong?”
“No, I’m fine,” she lied. “Just missing my man, that’s all.” At least that part was true.
“Next time I’ll arrange for you to go with me.”
“I should have come this time. You know how much I love California.”
“I know. But this trip was real work. The director and executive producer have been bumping heads since we got here. The E.P. swears there’s not enough money in the budget for the scenes that the director wants to shoot. So we’ve been scouting out new locations. I think everyone is finally satisfied. I’m pretty hopeful that these scenes won’t take more than a couple of days.”
Good, by that time Raquel would be out of the house.
“So what have you been up to?”
“Hmm, just an evening with the girls last night.”
Phil chuckled. “I would love to be a fly on the wall at one of those gatherings.”
“I bet you would.”
“So, what was it this time?”
She often came back from the girls’ night out and told Phil about some of the things they talked about: finances, the state of the world, vacations, job woes and men, of course. But this time was different. They’d all shown a side of themselves that they’d never revealed before—a totally vulnerable side, a side of hurt and uncertainty. They’d entrusted each other with secrets, and this