Authors: Bettye Griffin
“I’m afraid so,” his grandmother replied. “Glenda—that’s Marcus’s mother—is in jail for participating in a robbery, and Sandra, our other daughter, is still using drugs. She keeps getting fired from jobs. She does cashiering work, and her drawer is always coming up short.” The implication was left unsaid.
Ava wanted to weep at the utter hopelessness of it all. She managed to sound cheerful as she conversed with the Hudsons for a few more minutes and then
, after providing them with a business card that had her home address and phone scrawled on the back, promised to take good care of Marcus before leaving.
*****
“You went without me!” It was an accusation.
“I didn’t want to have to worry about you alone in the car,” Ava said. “Besides, I figured I’d be able to spot your grandparents. There aren’t too many people who go to
the market first thing in the morning. I just asked them if they were your grandparents.”
“What else did you ask them?” Marcus asked suspiciously.
Ava sighed. “I know where you live, if that’s what you’re getting at. Now don’t go getting mad,” she added when he scowled. “You think it makes a difference to me where you live? There was a fire, and your old apartment burned down. People have to live somewhere. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“And my mama’s in jail.”
“That’s unfortunate, but sometimes that’s the way it goes. Your grandparents love you very much, I could tell.”
He grinned, although she suspected he was trying not to.
“So now you gonna tell everybody all about me?” he asked.
“Not if you don’t want me to. I won’t even tell Hilton. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now go get some breakfast. He’ll be here
to pick you up soon.”
*****
“Hey, Sport, you ready to go?”
Marcus greeted Hilton with a high-five. “Yep. I forgot to ask you. When is payday?”
“Friday.”
“Friday, yeah!
Thanks, Mr. White.” Marcus’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Hey, how come your last name is White?”
Hilton shrugged. “I guess because my daddy’s name was White.”
“I don’t know what my daddy’s name is. My last name’s the same as my mother’s. But there’s some kids at school named White. The weird thing is, they’re all black.”
“I’ve noticed that myself, and I think everyone I’ve met named Green or Blue was black as well. And I’ll tell you something else, Marcus. I’ve come across people named Black who were all white. I’ve always thought that was weird
, too. The only color names that seem to be split among everybody are Brown or Gray.”
“Good morning, Hilton.”
“Morning.” His attention quickly shifted from the boy at his side to the woman descending the stairs. She wore cuffed gray slacks, a yellow long-sleeved blouse and low-heeled gray shoes.
She stopped at the lower landing, where the steps changed direction, going to the left for the final three steps. “Can I offer you some breakfast?”
“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.” He turned to Marcus. “How ‘bout you, Sport? Did you have breakfast?”
“Yep. I’m ready to go
make some money, man!”
“Wait a second,” Ava said. “I’ll be right back.” She skip
ped down the remaining stairs and disappeared into the kitchen, returning in less than a minute. “This is for you,” she said, holding out a royal blue padded nylon lunch box in front of Marcus.
“For me?” he asked, his sparkling eyes lighting up his face the way she so loved.
“We can’t have those long lunch breaks slowing down the day,” she said with a smile, her eyes meeting Hilton’s. “Besides, I don’t want you eating a lot of fast food.”
“Thanks, Aunt Ava!” Marcus gave her a hug, and she closed her eyes and pressed her palm against the back of his head, forgetting that Hilton was watching. When she opened her eyes and saw him looking at her with a warm smile she felt embarrassed and averted her eyes.
Marcus stretched his height to kiss her cheek. “I love you, Aunt Ava,” he said softly.
“I love you, too,” she said in a whisper.
“I’ll have him back about a quarter after six,” Hilton was saying.
“You can bring him to the shop if it’s more convenient.”
“No, I’ll bring him here.” Hilton didn’t hesitate. He wanted to return Marcus to Ava’s home, in case anyone who knew about their friendship was watching her shop, which with its Main Street locale was much more prominent than her house.
Marcus had
already gone ahead to wait in the sun porch, so Hilton took the opportunity to plant a quick farewell kiss on Ava’s lips, and he had to force himself not to pull her into his arms and kiss her with all he felt in his heart. His feelings for her had progressed at a rapid speed, one that would normally instill caution in him and an insistence that he slow down, but damn it, it
felt
right.
Ava closed the door behind them
, then leaned against it. Her memory bank flashed the opening sequence of an old sitcom seen in reruns during her childhood where the wife saw her husband and children out in the morning, handing the kids their lunch bags and kissing her husband.
Of course, that was where the similarity ended. She wasn’t going to put on an apron
and vacuum the house, she was going to go to work. And the pleasant scene that just occurred was as much a farce as those old comedies, since she, Hilton and Marcus were not a family unit. Still, the scene would probably occur again before the week was out. She’d have to keep herself grounded to the difference between what was real and what was just a pleasant dose of fantasy.
Although a number of brides-to-be came in to browse, Ava didn’t sell any gowns, but she did make two appointments for preliminary meetings to discuss coordinating upcoming nuptials. She usually planned
one or two weddings a month, less during the holiday season or more during popular wedding months like April, May, September and October. More and more she found herself just being hired to oversee the festivities for the day rather than being involved with the actual planning, which was fine with her. She still charged a respectable fee for this service, and it was only for one day and thus considerably less work than working with the bride and the bride’s mother, making all the arrangements from the budget on up.
She closed up twenty minutes earlier than usual, feeling justified by the slowness of the holiday season. From work she drove to the supermarket and at the deli counter ordered a specialty sub for Marcus’
s lunch the next day. While it was being made she went to the frozen food cases and picked out a large tray of frozen lasagna. Usually Ava chose her dinner at the deli, where there display cases full of prepared entrees and salads; or she got something from Soul Food to Go or one of the other area restaurants, but she was sure that Marcus, like most children, liked lasagna.
She picked up a container of grated Parmesan cheese, a bag of salad greens and a loaf of freshly baked, still warm Italian bread. On her way to the register after she picked up Marcus’
s sandwich she impulsively picked up a bottle of Zinfandel. Marcus couldn’t consume wine, of course, but it seemed only natural to ask Hilton to join them for dinner…
*****
“Wow. This is your house?”
“Home sweet home,” Hilton replied.
“This is even bigger than Aunt Ava’s. You got kids, Mr. Hilton?”
He’d suggested that Marcus use his first name rather than his last, preceded by “Mr.,” since Marcus found it so amusing that people named White were black.
“I’ve got a boy a couple of years younger than you.”
Marcus looked around curiously, and Hilton wondered if he expected Maxwell to come running down the stairs.
“He doesn’t stay with me,” he said. “He lives in Georgia with his mother.”
“Oh. I don’t get it, Mr. Hilton. Why you have all this room?”
“I like old houses, and most of them just happen to be big. I’ll take you through it when we’re ready to take our first break. In the meantime let’s get started. I told Mrs. Anderson I’d have all three of these pieces put together by tomorrow.”
They got to work assembling the black patterned wood two-tiered computer desk, which Hilton knew would take longer to put together than the
simpler matching four-shelved bookcase and lateral file cabinet. He allowed Marcus to pour the wood glue and even let him tighten a few screws, his small hands awkward around the screwdriver at first, but quickly mastering the circular motion.
They spent the morning working on assembling the furniture. In the afternoon Hilton had two appointments, one hooking up a stereo system and demonstrating how it worked; and the other to install a short wooden ramp which he had constructed and covered with outdoor carpet to accommodate a senior citizen’s broken leg.
He made a quick stop at the six-unit apartment building he owned, for which he did most of the maintenance work. “What’s this, Mr. Hilton?” Marcus asked.
“I, um, take care of things around this building for the owner,” he replied. He hated to lie, but he was determined that no one in Palmdale know about his wealth. He wanted to be accepted for who he was, not for what he had.
His instinct told him Ava was no gold digger, but he’d been fooled before. “Stay in the truck. I’ll just be a minute.” He wanted to check the hallways and make sure they were clean.
The rest of the day was spent at Home Depot, purchasing strips of unfinished pine. “We’re going to make some shelves for Ava for that narrow room at the front of her house,” Hilton told Marcus. “But don’t tell her about it because I want to surprise her.” He and Ava had never gotten around to discussing her exact plans
for her sun porch/office beyond that one aborted attempt, but he wanted to do something nice for her and felt this would be the best thing he could do, since he knew for sure it was something she wanted. “She wants to organize her wedding planning there.”
“You and Aunt Ava getting married?”
“What?”
Marcus repeated himself slowly, distinctly and a little more grammatically. “Are you and Aunt Ava getting married? You said she was planning her wedding.”
“No, no. Not
her
wedding; the weddings she plans for other people. That’s part of what she does.”
Marcus’
s grin was all-knowing. “But y’all are boyfriend and girlfriend, right?”
“We’re friends. We haven’t known each other very long, only a few weeks.”
“If y’all get married y’all will have two houses. That’s a lot of space for just the two of you, Mr. Hilton.”
“Marcus, listen to me. Ava and I are friends. We are
not
getting married.”
“How come? You got a wife in Georgia?”
Chapter 10
“W
ell, I was looking forward to it, too, Kendall, but I promised Marcus he could stay with me,” Ava said into the phone, after giving an explanation that was both brief and incomplete about Marcus’s appearance in her life and why he was staying with her. The sanitized story she told her friends was that she had encountered a child who’d been hanging around her salon and in talking to him realized he was actually a sweet kid who’d had some rough breaks. One thing led to another, and she was now letting him spend his Christmas vacation with her in an effort to keep him out of trouble and see another side of life, with his grandparents’ approval. Her censored version made no mention of his predicament or his thievery.
“I understand,” Kendall replied.
Ava could tell from the confusion in her friend’s voice that she
didn’t
understand. Everybody she knew probably thought she was losing her marbles, that was, everyone except Hilton. She had a feeling that Marcus’s charm was affecting Hilton the same way it had affected her. Last night they came back to the house looking like old buddies, maybe even a little like father and son, with Marcus addressing Hilton by a less formal-sounding “Mr. Hilton.” Over dinner, Marcus happily prattled on about how he had helped Hilton doing various chores. It was clear he had been exposed to a whole new world. Ava remembered Colin Powell urging every American to volunteer in the life of a child in need, saying that every child has a natural interest about life beyond their own environment that would fade by age ten and condemn them to hopelessness if they were not exposed to the promise of a different and better life. Marcus’s excitement about his experiences working with Hilton convinced Ava that the retired general had been spot on.
“We’ll miss you,” Kendall was saying. “Barry and Zena are coming, and so are Cliff and Connie and Vanessa and Brian. David and Michelle are coming, too, after they close the teen club at one a.m.” Michelle Barnes was in charge of the operations of a teen-age nightclub that was jointly owned by her father, who lived in Atlanta, and her Uncle Spencer.
“Sounds like a lot of fun. We’ll have to catch you next year.” The moment the words were out Ava grimaced in dismay at having said them. She hoped her friend wouldn’t notice the plurality, but Kendall was her usual sharp self.
“We?” she repeated. “Sounds like you expect Hilton to be around for a while. What gives? You’ve never been this optimistic about any of your other boyfriends.”
“I don’t know why I used that phrasing. Believe me, I’m not too optimistic about any longevity here, either. I must be doing a little daydreaming, probably because Hilton’s been around a lot this week. He’s here in the morning and again at dinnertime. We all had dinner together last night.” She smiled at the memory. “I know that after New Year’s Marcus will be going back home and things will get back to normal, but for the time being I’m enjoying it very much.”
“What about Maria and Gregory or Larry and Joy? Can’t they take care of him?”
“Larry and Joy are going to a party one of the other pediatricians is giving. I think Maria and Gregory are staying home. She mentioned that she would take care of the kids if nothing came up.”
“Well, there you have it. Marcus will have a great time playing with your nieces and nephews. You said he had a lot of fun on Christmas.”
“Yes, he did. Of course, if Maria and Gregory change their minds about going out my mother will watch the kids. I can tell you right off that’s it won’t work with my mother and Marcus. She was very disapproving of his spending Christmas with me instead of with his family. She doesn’t know I cau—that I thought he was up to no good when I started talking to him, and if she did she’d probably have a stroke.” Ava didn’t tell Kendall about Marcus’s living arrangements. True to her promise to Marcus, she hadn’t told Hilton, either. She could tell that Hilton was as taken with Marcus as she was, but she didn’t want his fondness for the youngster to be overshadowed by pity. How many times had she heard her own mother say dramatically, “Poor Ava,” when referring to her. She knew firsthand that it was far from an endearing habit. “But I wouldn’t feel right about leaving him with someone else after I told him he could stay with me.”
“Ava, I know this isn’t any of my business, but is this kid in some kind of trouble? I’m getting an uneasy feeling about the whole thing.”
“There’s nothing to be worried about, Kendall.”
“If you say so. But I’m glad Hilton’s around.”
She smiled.
Me, too.
“We’ll keep space reserved for you two at our table, just in case,” Kendall concluded.
“Thanks.”
*****
That night Hilton stopped for Chinese food for the three of them when he brought Marcus home. They ate informally in the living room in front of the TV, which was turned to the news.
“Are you working tomorrow?” Hilton asked.
“Yes. I’ve been working on inventory all week. I’m going to close at three, though.”
“What’s inventory?” Marcus asked in between bites of his shrimp roll.
“It’s when you count all the merchandise you have in stock,” Ava replied.
“We’re working, too, at least for half a day,” Hilton said.
“Half a day!” Marcus exclaimed. “Hey, man, do I still get my twenty-five dollars even though we’re shuttin’ down early?”
“Yes. I promised you twenty-five dollars, and that’s what you’re going to get.”
“That’s really quite generous of you, Hilton, considering you’re stopping work early tomorrow and the day after that is a holiday,” Ava remarked.
“That’s me; generous to a fault.”
Marcus didn’t comment, but the amused look in his eyes suggested he thought Hilton was being a sap. Ava and Hilton looked first at him, then at each other, at which time they burst into hearty laughter.
“What?” Marcus asked.
“It’s the look on your face, like you think you’re getting away with something,” Ava explained. “Hilton’s just being generous. Trust me, it would be a mistake to think he’s a fool.”
“Oh, I don’t think that,” Marcus said quickly.
“Okay, Sport, you’re off the hook,” Hilton said. His eyes darted to the television. “Make that louder,” he commanded.
Without asking any questions, Ava immediately reached for the remote control and pressed the volume button three times in rapid succession.
“This film was shot as the suspect was brought to jail to be booked,” the anchor was saying.
“Hey, that’s Goodyear!” Marcus exclaimed.
“He is identified as Darnell ‘Goodyear’ Johnson, twenty-seven years old, with a criminal record dating back nearly a decade. Police received an anonymous tip and sought Johnson out for questioning. Once again, there has been an arrest in the murder of…”
The remainder of the news anchor’s statement was lost as the three of them rejoiced, rising to their feet for a group hug.
“I can’t breathe,” Marcus complained. Ava and Hilton immediately hoisted him up between them. Ava couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy, and she’d had a lot of happiness lately.
“I guess that anonymous tip did the trick. This calls for a celebration,” Hilton said after they had sat back down.
Marcus, who had been laying sideways on a floor pillow, his plate resting on a rattan tray on the floor, immediately sat up. “Disney World?” he asked hopefully.
“Actually, I had something closer to home in mind, like the bowling alley.”
“Let’s go!” Marcus said, undaunted.
Ava smiled at his enthusiasm.
They went to the cosmic bowling session, and Marcus, who had never bowled before, loved the added touch of the loud music, darkness and strobe lights. Ava, who at one time had bowled regularly in a league but now did so only occasionally for recreation, could do without the youth-oriented hip-hop music playing at top volume, but Marcus’s happiness made the inconvenience worth it.
She was able to keep up with Hilton and raised her hands in triumph when she finished seven pins ahead of him in the second of the two games they played, prompting Hilton to say in mock sternness, “Uh-oh. Time to go.”
The mood in the truck was festive as they drove through town and admired the beautifully decorated homes, but Ava soon realized the gaiety was confined to her and Hilton.
She turned around to face an unusually quiet Marcus, alone in the back seat. “You okay back there?”
His reply was a listless shrug.
Ava promptly undid her seat belt and knelt on her seat facing the back. “Marcus, what’s wrong?”
“I was thinking…are you going to send me home now that Goodyear’s in jail?”
“Of course not! You’re going to spend your vacation with me. That was the deal. I’d hoped the trouble would be over by the time school starts on Monday, but I never said I’d send you home early if it ended beforehand, now, did I?”
“That’s right, you didn’t.”
“Besides, Sport, you’ve got work to do,” Hilton added. “Remember our project?”
“I remember.” The crooked incisors came into view with his grin.
“What project is that?” Ava asked as she settled back into her seat.
“The rainy day project,” Hilton replied, hoping Marcus would remember that Ava’s shelves were supposed to be a surprise. “We’re doing some organizational stuff now that it’s getting slow.”
“This is a slow time for you, too, huh?”
“I anticipated it would be. The weeks before the holiday season is when everyone wants to give their kitchen cabinets a facelift or to hang new drapes so their houses look nice when they have company. This week I’ve been mostly working for people who’ve received electronic gifts they don’t know how to hook up or things that need assembly. We’ll be doing mostly organizing the rest of the week.”
“What happens after that?” Ava asked. “I mean, what if it doesn’t pick up? Will you be all right?”
“Sure. I get a pension from the police department, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.”
Once again he was touched by her caring nature. He suspected that if he made up a story about being in trouble himself, she would have taken him in as easily as she had Marcus.
Three things he was fairly certain of. One, with his holdings and investments he would never be in a position to find himself without a roof over his head. Second, Ava cared about him. It was clear from the way she talked to him
…and from the way she kissed him.
His third certainty
was his own undeniable feelings for
her.
Funny how they’d progressed since their first meeting. The night they met she’d been embarrassed after learning he was the self-employed blue-collar worker she said was so unlikely ever be invited to Catherine Moore’s home, and later she expressed gratitude to him for getting her home safely after her car broke down. On their first date they had exchanged banter typical of new acquaintances, but now everything was on a different keel. Their relationship had not only become warmer, but also more attuned, like the instinctive way she increased the volume on the TV without asking questions. She clearly trusted him.
Perhaps it all started with his urge to protect her when she told him that killers might be after Marcus. Sharing dinner with her, and with Marcus, too, had stirred long-dormant memories of mealtimes with his parents and brother before his mother became ill. It was the way he’d always envisioned his family life would be when he became an adult, and being with Ava and Marcus made him believe it was still possible. One day he’d
eventually marry and try to convince Janelle to let him have custody of Max. He already knew what the hook would be—he’d simply offer to continue the child support, except she’d have no child to support and could use it at her discretion. Five tax-free hundred-dollar bills coming in each month to spend on herself would surely be enough to make her accept.
During and immediately after her pregnancy he had thought they could avoid bringing the courts into it by giving her a generous allowance. He’d thought it was going fine, but when Max was six months old he was ordered to appear in family court. Janelle refused to see him or take his calls when he tried to contact her to ask what it was all about, and he was stunned when she told the judge she’d never received funds from him for their son’s support since the time of his birth. When given a chance to speak, Hilton explained he had given her money regularly for Maxwell’s expenses. To his a
stonishment, Janelle told the judge that the money he’d given her was for
her,
not Max, because they were still having a romantic relationship. The judge ordered Hilton to pay back support and that an order for payroll deductions be sent to his employer immediately. Any additional payments, he instructed Hilton, would have to be made through the court to eliminate any confusion about what they were intended for.
An enraged Hilton had written a check for the full amount of the back support at the court clerk’s office. When he saw Janelle driving a new car a few weeks later he had the answer to why she had done it. Their relationship had gone downhill since then.
He figured the only way she’d consider trading places with him as the custodial parent would be if there was something in it financially for her. Janelle wasn’t the type to ever offer to share custody of Max with him merely out of the goodness of her heart. For her, everything had a price tag.