“Psychology.”
Clarissa winked at Kendra. “Honey, you have to watch it. He can zoom right in on our little feminine tricks.”
She couldn’t help scrutinizing the woman. “You think he’s with me?”
“Child, I know he is.”
“And don’t ask her why,” Stanton said. “Clarissa will answer any question you ask her.” He poured champagne for the six of them, raised his glass, and said, “We meet many people, but none who’ve seemed like old friends, as all of you do.”
Jethro stood. “I’ve met many celebrities, but none with your warmth, kindness, and down-home friendliness. I’ve been your fan since your first CD came out, and I always will be.” He drained his glass. “Now, Edwina and I will leave so that Kendra can get her interview.” He looked at Sam. “We’ll wait for you in the Chinese Lounge.” Stanton walked with them to the door.
Anxious to begin the interview, Kendra said, “Ms. Holmes, I appreciate your doing me this honor. I’ve brought my recorder. It’s very powerful and will give excellent sound for the radio. Do you mind if I use it?”
“No indeed. Since you won’t have to write, we can just sit here and talk.”
“How much of your story published in the novella,
The Journey,
is true?” Kendra asked.
“Everything but those little details in the story. Even the parts about the band members is fairly accurate.”
They talked for more than half an hour. “I’ve taken up so much of your time that I’m sure I’ve tired you out, especially after that long program you gave tonight. Thank you for the interview. I’m going to have a two-hour Clarissa Holmes program one night next week when I’ll broadcast the interview and all of your CDs. I need a few nights to advertise it, so I can’t tell you which night, but I’m gunning for Thursday. Thank you again.” She stood to leave.
“Thank you, Kendra. I appreciate your interviewing me and giving me a spot on your program.” She shook hands with Sam. “You the spittin’ image of your daddy. He must be real proud of you. Next time I’m in Washington or anyplace near here, I’ll send Kendra four tickets. Give my regards to your daddy and Dr. Prill. You Hayes men know how to pick your women.” She and Stanton walked to the door with them. Clarissa and Stanton embraced them, and they left.
Kendra saw a ladies’ room. “Excuse me a minute, please,” she said to Sam. She opened the door, gasped, and stepped back, shaken.
Sam rushed to her. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Come. Let’s get away from here right now.” She brushed his hand away and quickened her steps toward the grand foyer. Sam pulled her into a telephone booth. “Tell me this minute what’s wrong.”
“Ginny. She was in the ladies’ room. My mother.”
“What? Are you afraid of her?”
“No. But if she saw me, she’d make a scene in front of everybody, and spoil one of the most beautiful nights of my life.”
He pulled her into his arms and rocked her. “What kind of ogre is she? If she finds you, don’t say a word to her. I’ll take care of it. Try to be calm, take a few deep breaths, and tell yourself that you’re not alone, that I’m here for you. Smile. If you’re miserable, Dad will detect it in a minute.”
“I’m okay,” she said after a minute or two. “Let’s go.” Sam held her hand as they walked the nearly empty hallway that led to the grand foyer and the Chinese Lounge. “It’s been a fantastic evening,” Kendra said. “I may never get over this.” She wanted to ask Sam how he thought the interview went, but decided to wait and let him volunteer his thoughts about it.
“I was beginning to think you two were so excited that you’d forgotten we were waiting,” Jethro said when they entered the lounge. “How’d it go?”
“She’s a genius at it,” Sam said. “I was flabbergasted. You’d have thought she’d spent her life doing nothing but interviewing. And she made it so intimate. I was really impressed.”
Jethro regarded him with laughing eyes. “You must have been. I’m ready for a very late-night supper. Edwina knows a good place.”
“Congratulations on the interview,” Edwina said. “I’ll be listening for it.”
The valet brought Sam’s car, and they were soon headed for Treadwell’s, a supper club in the Southwest section of the city.
Later, Sam stood with Kendra beside the closet in her foyer helping her out of her coat. “You gave me a shock tonight. Is there any way that you can get your mother to straighten out her life and stop damaging yours? That interview was a triumph, a big coup for you—and a glimpse of her demoralized you. Do you want us to talk to her together, to get some kind of understanding with her? I can’t bear to see you the way you were after you saw her. You deserve better.”
She took a deep breath and, shaking her head slowly, she said, “You can’t reason with her, Sam. And you can’t rely on her promises. She does and says what suits her at the moment. I don’t think she’s mean, though Papa disagrees, but I still can’t deal with her.”
“She’s counting on that, Kendra. What’s keeping her under control these days?”
“My uncle. Her older brother. If she contacts me, he’ll have her bail revoked, and she’ll have to serve out that jail sentence for driving an unregistered car with a suspended license.”
“You told me about that. Why was her license suspended?”
“She had numerous traffic violations, and didn’t pay any of her fines. Then, she drove down a one-way street the wrong way, and when the police caught her, she was rude. She lost her license.”
“I see. She’s antisocial.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
It was not the time for what he wanted and needed with her, although it would have been perfect if she hadn’t seen her mother. “Can we be together tomorrow after you finish studying?”
“Great. That heavy snow made it possible for me to catch up with my studies, so any time after one will be fine. I’m going to church with Papa, and I’ll be home by eleven-thirty. Say, why don’t we come back here for dinner? It won’t be as fancy as I’m capable of making it, but it will be nice.”
“I like that.” And he did. He wanted to know if he could be comfortable in her environment, and so far he wasn’t sure.
“Okay, dress casually and comfortably, but not in sneakers or jeans.”
“All right.” His jaw nearly dropped when she looked up at him and said, “I love being with you so much. I’m never ready to leave you.”
Quickly gathering his aplomb, he said, “I thought it was only I who felt that way.” He got no warning for the unprecipitated and uninvited stirring in his groin.
“We’ll be together tomorrow,” he said, as much to himself as to her.
“I’m looking forward to it. By the way, I think your dad and Edwina are on a one-way trail. They’re like teenagers.”
“Yeah. They’re not letting any grass grow under their feet. But that’s the way my dad moves. He studies a problem, decides what course he’ll take, and doesn’t look back. I think he’s fortunate, and I like her more each time I see her.”
“I guess you do. She’s besotted with him. I like her too, very much.”
He sprinkled kisses over her face and on her lips. “I don’t care what you cook tomorrow. I just want us to be together.”
“I do, too, but if I was home all day before you got here, I’d present you with a first-class meal.”
“You mean you can cook?”
“Do cats like mice? What a question!”
“See you at one o’clock. Give my regards to your dad. Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, dear.”
Sometime Monday, she would know whether she won one of the prizes for travel abroad. She would be disappointed if she didn’t win, but she suspected that her life would be less complicated if she stayed home.
She went into her bedroom, saw the red message light flashing on her phone, walked over, and was about to pick up the receiver when she saw Ginny’s phone number. That was one call she did not plan to return; her mother must have glimpsed her from the washroom mirror. When would it end?
It was time she found out where she was headed with Sam. As natural as it seemed to be with him, she held back, as she knew he did. For her, it wasn’t a matter of trust; she trusted him. But you didn’t wade shoulder-high into the ocean waters if you couldn’t swim. If she let herself love Sam, she didn’t know whether she’d sink or swim. She hadn’t wanted him to leave her tonight, but her reaction to seeing Ginny had killed their joy. She meant to do her best to make up for it.
She took a filet mignon roast from her freezer and put it in the bottom of the refrigerator to defrost. Then, she got ready for bed and called it a night.
“You’re looking very nice this morning,” Bert told her when he came by to take her to church with him the next morning. “You’re just shining. Seen Sam lately?”
“I saw him last night.” She told him about the previous evening, how she got the tickets and the interview. “If it hadn’t been on Saturday, I would have asked you to come.”
“Thanks, but Saturday is my busiest day. We were still taking orders at eight o’clock. I sure would have loved to hear Raymond Feldon play that dobro. He’s a master at it. I’ll be listening for your special program with that interview. Howell’s going to like that. Don’t put it off too long. Some other radio jock might beat you to it.”
“I didn’t think of that. Clarissa gave me her card, so I think I’ll call her.”
“Well . . . If you think she won’t mind.”
They left the church around twelve fifteen. “Do you want to have lunch somewhere?” Bert asked her.
“I’d love to, Papa, but I’m spending the rest of the day with Sam.”
“Glad to hear it. Give him my regards.”
“Thanks. I will.”
She jumped out of her father’s car and raced into the building, but it seemed ages before the elevator arrived. She got off at her floor, sped down the hall, and came to a sliding stop in front of her apartment. “I’m losing my mind,” she said when she couldn’t find her key at once. She found it, went in, and began undressing as soon as she closed the door. Ten minutes later, she had on a pair of beige pants, the burnt-orange turtleneck sweater, and her gold-plated hoop earrings. She stuck her feet into a pair of loafers and raced to the kitchen. She prepared two pots for steaming vegetables, put tiny red potatoes in one and shallots in the other. Then, she washed cremini mushrooms and laid them on a towel on the counter to dry.
“He can sit here in the kitchen this evening while I clean the asparagus and make the leek soup,” she said to herself. She found a package of frozen raspberries in the back of her freezer, and relaxed; raspberry sauce on vanilla ice cream was good enough for the president. She would have been happier if she’d had two packages, but one would suffice. She didn’t have any wine. Too bad. Next time, she’d cook him a decent meal. With six minutes to spare, she brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and put on the jacket that matched her beige pants.
Sam looked at his watch. Right on time. He rang the doorbell.
When she opened the door, he flung his arms wide, lifted her, and hugged and kissed her. “I can’t say why, but I feel great, and I hope you feel the same. How’s your dad?”
“Whew! Let me recover from your mind-blowing greeting. He’s fine.”
A grin spread from his lips to his eyes. He winked at her. “Think that was mind-blowing? Sweetheart, I’ve got enough stored up to blow a race car off its course. Nothing is going to derail me today.”
As she thought back, she knew that her reaction to Ginny had derailed them last night. She didn’t reassure him and congratulated herself for having the presence of mind—or was it an understanding of men—not to do it. He kissed her again, a fleeting, sweet thing that caused her to gaze at him with a question in her eyes.
Caution be damned. “You’re so sweet,” she said.
He stared at her for a long minute. “Where’s your coat? Let’s get out of here.”
“We’re going to a matinee,” he told her. “It’s kind of like Comedy Central, maybe a little cleaner. There’s nothing like laughter to banish the stress. Besides, this guy is good. Reminds me of Bill Cosby in his younger days.”
“I like witty stuff.”
“Oh, I would never pay to expose myself to slapstick, and I can’t stand pie throwing.”
She slid down in the leather seat of the Enclave and made herself comfortable. She’d never thought that luxury could be so appealing. “Dick Gregory uttered one of the funniest lines I ever heard from a comedian. With a nonchalant demeanor, he said he knew a lot about the South—‘I spent twenty years there . . . one night.’ That’s what I call wit.”
“What would you like for lunch?” he asked her. “There are a lot of restaurants near this little theater.”
“Any pizza nearby. I haven’t had a slice of good pizza in ages. That’s one thing I’m going to learn to make.”
“You’re on. I’m told the difficult thing about making pizza is the crust.”
“I imagine so. I’ve seen guys stretching that dough. At least right now, I don’t have to worry about that.”