This Holiday Magic (22 page)

Chapter 6

T
he next day, Trey wondered what Renee thought of his blatant honesty during their drive to Raleigh. He knew he'd surprised her by openly stating what sizzled between them. They were both consenting adults, so what was stopping either of them?

“Daddy?”

He quickly pulled his thoughts away from Renee and to his daughter, who was sitting on a counter stool, watching him put together the salad for their dinner.

“Yes, princess?”

“If you know someone has done a bad thing, but you don't do anything about it, does that make you bad, too?”

Trey took a break from chopping chicken for the toss-it-all-in salad. This was one of those not-so-hypothetical questions that both his mother and Aunt Henrietta had warned him about. But the women had also assured him that he wouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing until Kelly was in her teens.

“What do you mean?” he asked, buying time to both get his thoughts together and brace himself for whatever bombshell she was about to drop on him.

“Well,” Kelly said, tugging on one of her pigtails and looking down at the granite countertop. “If I had this friend who took something that, you know, didn't really belong to her—”

“That's stealing, Kelly,” he said, cutting his daughter off. “You know that. And you know stealing is wrong.”

“But Keisha said—” She slapped her hand over her mouth and darted guilty eyes up at him. “I mean, this friend didn't really…”

“Kelly, what happened between you and Keisha?”

“Nothing!”

“Kelly Elaine Calloway.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “I—I'm not that hungry, Daddy,” she said, slipping from the stool and turning to run.

But Trey was faster than the six-year-old. He was around the counter in a mere moment and caught her up in his arms.

“Daddy!”

Ignoring the whine, he walked to the sofa in the family room and plopped down on it, the girl secure in his arms.

She squirmed, but he held fast. “Kelly, remember when we talked about always telling the truth?”

She nodded and bit her bottom lip. He recognized the obstinate gesture, having witnessed it on Andrea when she'd been digging her heels in on a topic. With each passing year, Kelly seemed to resemble her mother even more. The fact that she would grow up without a mother's love tugged at his heart.

“If you remember,” he said with gentle nudging, “why don't you tell me what's going on.”

“'Cause I'll get in trouble.”

Well, that made sense. He wasn't a harsh disciplinarian, but Kelly was still familiar with punishment. The two most severe, which ranked even harsher than no
Dora the Explorer
on television, probably hurt him more than it did her: no dance class or no dolls. Eliminating the dance session meant Kelly didn't go and he had to find either a sitter or an alternative for that time. And a no-dolls punishment meant he had to spend the better part of an hour gathering up the dolls in her bedroom and then locking them in the playroom. Kelly would spend practically the entire time on punishment crying.

Since whatever was going on now involved Keisha, Trey doubted that this infraction would warrant a severe punishment. She was clearly trying to protect her friend.

“And you think the trouble you'll get in is more important than telling me what's wrong?”

Kelly remained silent. He watched as his daughter seemed to consider both the pros and the cons of the situation. He wondered what secret a six-year-old could have that was so weighty.

“Has Keisha done something that puts her in danger of hurting herself or someone else?”

Kelly shook her head.

“Have you?”

Again, she shook her head.

Trey sighed. Well, that was one less thing he had to stress about. His daughter knew that lying was wrong, so even though she was being closemouthed on whatever was going on with her and Keisha, he could trust that Kelly was being truthful on at least those two points.

“All right, Kel,” he said. “You think about this tonight, and tomorrow you're going to tell me what's up. Got it?”

She nodded.

He placed a kiss on the top of her head and then scooted her onto the sofa as he got up. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes and I want you at the table.”

“Yes, sir,” she said glumly.

As he made his way back to the kitchen to finish the chopped salad and the rest of their meal, Trey thought of his wife again. Andrea would have been so much better at parenting than he was. He also wondered what type of punishment for bad behavior got handed out next door. From what he'd witnessed of her tantrums, if Keisha were his child, she'd always be on punishment.

* * *

Kelly Calloway got a reprieve from the tough conversation Trey had planned because of a knock on the side door as they were about to eat breakfast.

Trey glanced at the clock on the wall before muttering, “Who in the world could that be?”

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see Renee and a bedraggled Keisha standing there. The girl's coat was half-zipped up and her hair was a tangled mess of half braids. The girl's mouth was poked out in a gesture that was becoming all too familiar with Trey.

“Trey, I'm so sorry to bother you this morning,” Renee said. “We're having an issue here.”

Keisha folded her arms and stomped her foot, but didn't say anything.

“I'm late and Keisha has missed her bus,” Renee said. “Could you drop her off at school?”

Trey glanced back at Kelly, who had taken a sudden interest in the piece of French toast she'd been pushing around on her plate for the past ten minutes.

“Uh, sure. We'll be leaving in about fifteen minutes.” He looked at Keisha, who now peered into the kitchen. “Would you like some French toast?”

“I don't like French toast.”

“Keisha!” Renee sighed and then cast pleading eyes up at Trey. “I'm sorry,” she said, apologizing for her daughter. “It's been a difficult morning.”

“Tell me about it,” Trey said, opening the door wider so Keisha could scamper inside out of the cold air. She unzipped her jacket and put it on a chair.

“Thanks,” Renee said. “Keisha, be polite,” she then shouted into the kitchen.

She smiled up at him and then dashed to her car. Trey watched her start the engine and speed off. She'd been wearing a long leather coat fastened at the waist by a leather belt looped around. He found himself wondering, mightily, what was underneath.

“Daddy, you're letting all the heat out.”

He glanced back at the girls and then shut the door.

Kelly was at the counter, still playing with the last of the French-toast pieces on her plate. Keisha sat on the stool next to her, pouting.

He went into the pantry, pulled out a box of Cheerios, got a bowl from the cupboard and a spoon from the drawer. He put the cereal, bowl and utensil in front of Keisha and then got the quart of whole milk out of the refrigerator.

“Eat,” he said.

The command was meant for Keisha and she reached for the box without a rebuttal, but Kelly picked up her fork and speared a piece of French toast, as well.

When he was satisfied that both girls were actually going to consume something for breakfast, he nodded. “We are leaving in exactly ten minutes,” he said, pointing to the clock. “I want you both bundled up and ready to go.”

He left the kitchen, knowing they would presume he was headed upstairs and out of earshot. He went as far as the dining room and stood out of sight on the side of the large china cabinet.

“What happened to your hair?”

“I don't like braids anymore,” he heard Keisha say.

“Are you going to school looking like that?”

Trey had to smile. He'd been wondering the same thing but wasn't about to ask the girl.

“I can wear my hat,” came her reply.

There was silence from the kitchen then. Trey chanced a glance around the china cabinet. Both girls were actually eating. Shaking his head, he quit the subterfuge and headed upstairs to get his portfolio. Today was a day he'd be working from the office at Commerce Plaza.

When both girls were buckled in the backseat of the Navigator, he looked at them in the rearview mirror. Both girls had taken an unnatural interest in the views outside their respective windows.

“So,” he said. “Which one of you is going to tell me what's going on?”

“She started it!” Keisha said.

“I did not!” Kelly shouted.

They'd turned in their seats now and faced each other, both young faces earnest and intent.

“Keisha?” he asked.

“Why does she get to go first?” Kelly whined.

He wanted to fire back, “Because you had your chance to tell me and refused to do so.” Instead, he calmly answered, “Because she's the oldest.” Kelly huffed at that and flounced back, folding her arms across her chest, not at all hindered by the bulky winter coat.

“I told her she shouldn't do it,” Keisha said.

“Shouldn't do what?” Trey asked as he backed out of the driveway.

Silence came from the backseat.

“Ladies.”

It took a moment, but an answer came. But not from the girl he'd expected to respond.

“I wanted to trade my Polly Play doll for Erica's Dora watch.”

Trey's gut tightened. That Polly Play doll cost almost as much as one of the American Girl dolls. Those plastic
Dora the Explorer
watches came free in fast-food kids meals.

Kelly had been right that she'd get in trouble. But what surprised him the most was that the voice of reason—and not the culprit in the situation as he'd so readily assumed—had been Keisha. He'd been quick to assume that it was Keisha who had done something wrong. But something nagged at him. Last night, Kelly had referred to someone taking something that didn't belong to them.

“Where's the Polly doll?” he asked.

Silence came from the backseat.

“Tell him,” Keisha prompted after a few moments passed.

“It's under my bed,” Kelly confessed.

He glanced in the rearview mirror. Kelly looked pitiful. Keisha didn't look too happy, either.

“And where is Erica's watch?”

He had to keep his eyes on the road, but he didn't miss the exchange between the girls.

A moment later, a small hand rose up. He held his right hand back to take whatever was being proffered.

“I had it in my backpack,” Kelly said. “I was going to give it back to Erica today.”

Had Kelly actually stolen the watch? He couldn't believe it and didn't want to, either.

“I didn't steal it, Daddy,” the girl said, as if anticipating his question.

“Erica gave it to her on collar tail,” Keisha explained. “But I told her not to. That doll cost a lot of money. Way more than that cheap watch.”

“‘Collar tail'?”

Trey stopped at a red light and tried to figure out what the phrase meant.

“I told Erica that collar tail was a good way to do the trade.”

“What is…?” Trey started, and then the lightbulb went off. “
Collateral?
Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah,” Keisha said. “Collateral for the night.”

He bit back a grin. This streetwise little girl had saved his kid's behind.

“Kelly?”

The girl met his gaze in the mirror. “What did you give Erica as collateral on the deal?”

Kelly's lip quivered and he knew tears would be showing up any moment.

“You're not in trouble, Kel. But I need to know what you gave your friend.”

“My new hair bows.”

The floodgates opened then. The hair bows had been a gift from Aunt Henrietta and Kelly loved them as much as she loved her doll collection. All this over a kids-meal watch destined to fall apart within a month.

“Don't cry, Kelly,” Keisha told his daughter. “He said you're not in trouble.”

“But I'm gonna get a punishment,” Kelly said between sobs. “I just wanted a Dora watch.”

Neither girl was in any condition to go to school. One looked as if she'd just run away from her hairdresser, and the other one was boo-hooing as though she'd just lost her best friend.

Trey glanced at the clock on the dash. Keisha was apparently already late for school, and Kelly would be late in about five minutes. He figured another ten or fifteen minutes wasn't going to academically challenge either one of them. And he was good on time to get to the office.

He pulled the Navigator into the lot at the primary school, cut the engine, then unsnapped his seat belt and turned to the girls.

Before he could say anything, a chirping sounded in the car. Trey looked confused. He reached for his phone, not understanding why it would be sounding suspiciously like a bird.

“Excuse me,” Keisha said, bending toward her backpack. A moment later, the girl retrieved a mobile phone.

The backseat crying had ceased and both Trey and Kelly looked at Keisha, mouths agape in wonder at an eight-year-old with a cell phone.

“Hi, Mom,” Keisha said into the phone. She was silent for a moment, then said, “Yes, we just got to school.”

Kelly's wide eyes met her father's.

“No,” he said, anticipating the question. No child of his was getting a cell phone before a driver's license.

“Yes,” Keisha said and then disengaged the call. “Mom said to tell you thank-you.”

For a moment, Trey was too stunned to speak. More than once, he'd been accused of being an overindulgent parent. But a mobile phone for an elementary-school student took the cake.

He and Renee definitely had different parenting styles. But that was neither here nor there at the moment.

Contemplating whether he should let this watch trade go as an object lesson or intervene with the other girl's parents, he decided that the teachable moment was the better route. And the one that Kelly would remember in the future. It might even prove more beneficial and lasting to her than the punishment she expected.