“Yvonne likes this suit,” Rochelle began. “No … she loves this suit. She just doesn’t have sense enough to let go and
let herself enjoy liking something that looks this good.”
Yvonne wanted to roll her eyes at Rochelle and say something asinine like “Forget you, Rochelle,” the way she had when they
were kids and she wanted to make her sister leave her alone. But she couldn’t and didn’t because Rochelle was right. Rochelle
had been right since the very first time she shared this observation, and Yvonne got mad and hung up the phone midstream during
their conversation.
“I see,” Miss Hattie Lee said. “Other than the price tag on this outfit, what’s stopping you from enjoying it, Miss Yvonne?”
“Yvonne,” Rochelle jumped in before her sister, who was struggling for what she probably thought was the right and proper
answer, “don’t you think I know what your budget is like? This suit is a gift from your girl Theresa. She needs somebody to
start wearing her high-end merchandise and wanted to hook you up, too.”
“Rochelle, I can’t take this outfit like that.”
“Yes, you can. Yes, you will,” Elaine said. “God put it on Theresa’s heart to bless you with this gift. You mean to tell me
that you, the one who’s always praying for God to bless you with increase, are going to tell God, ‘Thank you but no thank
you’? Take the gift—it’s a blessing.”
“Yeah, baby. Take this gift. It’s your first step to letting the Lord know your heart is open to receive the gifts He has
in store for you. Otherwise, you are telling God that you ain’t ready for a blessing to overtake you.”
“But Miss Hattie Lee, we are talking about clothes. I’ve been praying for my job to become permanent and with benefits. I’ve
been praying for God to send someone into my life. I’ve been …”
“Yvonne,” Elaine asked, “don’t you think that if God laid it on Theresa’s heart to give you this outfit, He has other pieces
to this plan? Do you think it is okay for the Lord to bless you with something you have secretly wanted, like a beautiful
outfit, to show off the new you? I don’t know why we black women do that to ourselves.”
“Do what?” Yvonne asked. How was she supposed to be all pumped up over a suit when the other areas in her life were so dry
and boring and in such lack? Because what in the tarnation was a fancy blue suit going to do to make her life better? Had
somebody pinned the winning lottery ticket on the inside of the skirt?
“Read our situation with our natural eyes instead of trusting the good Lord to take care of everything, including the smallest
and seemingly most insignificant of details, like a fancy new suit,” Elaine told her. “God knows what He is doing, Yvonne.”
“Elaine is right, baby,” Miss Hattie Lee said as she swung her hair around. It had taken Elaine all of fifteen minutes to
style and flat-iron her new do.
Mary J.’s old school “Reminisce” came on Foxy 107. Miss Hattie Lee swung her hair around one more time and then moved her
shoulders and hips in a rhythm that was in sync to Mary J.’s funky beat.
“Whew …” she said, got a sip of water, and sat down. “I still got it.”
“Yes, you do, Miss Hattie Lee,” Rochelle said as she watched this so-called senior work it. Miss Hattie Lee was just as agile
and smooth as could be.
“Are you going to the reception tonight, Miss Hattie Lee?” Yvonne asked her.
“Baby, I’ll be there. But I’ll be working. Marquita is catering the event. So I’ll be working alongside her, Huge Hotsy’s
baby Dayeesha, and Deena Carmichael.”
“Well, we know we’ll be eating good tonight,” Rochelle said. Because all of those sisters could throw down in the kitchen.
“Yes, you will,” Miss Hattie Lee replied. “But you know something—Marquita has been trying to get Deena, Dayeesha, and me
to incorporate as a company with her. She doesn’t have a name yet, but we all believe we’d make a killing.”
“Then why don’t you go in on the deal with her? Marquita is a good businesswoman and already making money hand over fist,”
Rochelle said.
“Well, I just don’t think that I will be able to be bothered with Rico. He gets on my nerves, and I know I’ll end up going
off on him one day if he talks to me wrong—which is inevitable with that boy.”
“You are going to have to pray on that, Miss Hattie Lee. Going in with Marquita is too big of a deal to let Rico get in the
way,” Yvonne told her.
She definitely understood Miss Hattie Lee’s not wanting to deal with Rico, though. But Rico wasn’t important enough to stand
in the way of something like this.
The bell tinkled and the door swung open. A well-dressed older man walked in holding a dark gray fedora by the brim, old school
style. Miss Hattie Lee rushed over to him and twirled around a few times.
Mr. Tommy smiled broadly and said in one of those sexy, raspy old-man voices, “You sure are looking good, girl. Making me
feel like I’m sixty all over again.”
The three younger women thought they had seen it all when Miss Hattie Lee told them what her dance costume looked like, and
then busted a smooth move to Mary J. But this had to win the award. There were times when they each thought about what it
would feel like to be seventy, eighty, or ninety years old. Judging from the twinkling eyes of those two, it appeared that
it might feel pretty good.
Miss Hattie Lee let her man help her into her coat, slipped her arm through his, blew a kiss at the younger women, and practically
skipped out of the shop.
“What do you think they do on their dates?” Rochelle asked.
“Same thing you do on yours, probably,” Elaine answered her.
“But I like to snuggle up to my boyfriend and get some of those sweet kisses of his.”
“Okay, Rochelle,” Elaine began, “first off, you never told anybody that you had a new man. So why don’t we start there before
we go any further into Miss Hattie Lee’s business? Who is this man and when and how did this happen?”
“His name is Terrence Lockwood, he is an attorney and works with the Carolina Panthers Corporation, and he is a mighty man
of God.”
Yvonne smiled broadly. She said, “I know about Terrence Lockwood. He is supposed to be a wonderful and anointed man. What
he look like?”
Rochelle grinned and whipped out her phone. She pulled up a picture of a light-brown-skinned man. He looked to be about five
foot ten, was trim and well built, and had a mustache and some of the kindest eyes Yvonne had ever seen. And if he wasn’t
the sharpest thing on two legs in that silver-blue suit, dove-gray shirt, silver, light blue, and chocolate-colored tie, she
didn’t know who was.
Elaine checked out the picture. “Nice, very nice, Rochelle. And he knows the Lord. Even better.”
“Yeah,” Rochelle said softly and did something she rarely did—blush. “And he has some good kisses, too.”
“Sooo, if you and Terrence can get all snuggled up, and you get some of his good kisses, then don’t you think that Miss Hattie
Lee and her new man are capable of doing the exact same thing?”
“But, Elaine, they are …”
“Old, Rochelle? But they aren’t dead … just older. And I think it is a beautiful thing to know that I’ll still want to
be snuggled up and kissing on my man when I am their ages.”
“I agree,” Yvonne added. “But do you think they kiss like we do? I mean all warm and sexy like—French kissing. You think they
do that?”
Elaine and Rochelle had to think hard on that observation. Neither remembered ever witnessing people that age kissing and
making out.
“Girl, you have a point,” Elaine said. “How
do
they make out?”
Rochelle started laughing and said, “We are talking just as crazy as Yvonne’s kids. That sounds like something that little
Danesha would ask, don’t it, Yvonne?”
“Umm … hmm. It sounds just like Danesha. But I still wonder how they make out.”
“Me, too,” Elaine said.
“Well, you know how secretive that age group can be,” Rochelle told them. “So we are just going to have to get old to find
out. Remember, we didn’t think people who were forty, and especially somebody who was fifty, would be making out and all over
each other. But they do. And I think they are worse than any little college student trying to get all up on somebody.”
“You ain’t talking nothing but the truth,” Elaine said, cracking up. She had crossed the fifty-mark some years ago, and loved
being all hugged up with her new man.
Rochelle’s cell phone rang out the late great Gerald Levert’s “In My Songs.” She flipped it open, grinning. “So, you finally
got out of that meeting and decided to give a black girl a call.”
Elaine and Yvonne strained their ears to pick up on a man’s voice.
“You will be able to make it? Perfect. Can you stay over? You have time to meet with Curtis? Good.”
Rochelle paused a few seconds before saying, “The Sheraton Imperial isn’t too far from my house.” She laughed and then said,
“Boy, you so crazy,” before she hung up.
“So where is ‘Boy, you so crazy’ spending the night? And why is he meeting with Curtis?” Yvonne asked.
“He has a room at the Sheraton Imperial but wanted to be able to come and hang out with me for a while. And Terrence is going
to give Curtis some counsel on how to handle his department over your decision to send in those grades, and effectively bench
DeMarcus Brown and June Bug Washington.”
“Oooh, I didn’t mean to cause that kind of trouble,” Yvonne said, now a bit worried.
“Girl, please. Curtis is so glad you sent those grades in, he doesn’t know what to do. He just wants to make sure he handles
his business, so that Gilead can’t get around him on this one. What you did was an answer to that boy’s prayers. And I bet
that he respects you immensely for standing up for what you knew was right.”
“When and where did you meet Terrence, Rochelle?” Elaine asked.
“In Charlotte. I was at a meeting for attorneys who work with sports programs. Terrence was one of the workshop presenters.
We hit it off, and we’ve been talking for months. And plus, Maurice had the skinny on the brother.”
“Sounds good to me,” Elaine said.
“Me, too,” Yvonne seconded, picked up her things, and then put them down to give Elaine a check.
“This is on me, sweetie. But here is your card for your next appointment. I can’t wait to hear how all of this goes.”
“Thank you, Elaine,” Yvonne said, suddenly tearful. She was so blessed to be surrounded by such wonderful and loving people.
Y
vonne walked into the kitchen, dropped the fancy garment bag on the counter, and then knocked it onto the floor and tripped
over it trying to get to the alarm keypad before the alarm went off. She had forgotten to remind herself that she had finally
remembered to set the alarm when she left the house this morning. Yvonne was good about setting the alarm at night but had
to practically beat herself over the head to remember to do the exact same thing during the day. She was so relieved to reach
that alarm in time. After a day like this one, she wouldn’t have known what kind of password to give to the alarm people when
they called.
Yvonne picked up the garment bag and headed down the hall to her bedroom. When they first moved into Cashmere Estates, Yvonne
was sullen and droopy, refusing to let go of her hurt over having to leave 6,000 square feet in Richmond for a three-bedroom,
2,100-square-foot home. Back then Yvonne was so focused on her past, her losses, and mourning the life she thought she had,
she could not appreciate the beautiful blessing God had dropped into her lap.
Like Lot’s wife, Yvonne made the erroneous assumption that what she had been forced to vacate was worth a hardening of her
heart and stubborn refusal to embrace change and start a new life. But God was prepared for Yvonne and her foolishness. As
soon as she crossed the threshold of this lovely house, she sat down and cried at the thought of how much God loved her. God
had blessed Yvonne with the perfect house in spite of her foolishness and ungrateful ways.
For the Lord had made a way out of no way for her and the girls to move into this house. Lamont Green, who owned Cashmere
Estates, had leased this house out to Yvonne with an option to buy for a very affordable price. The only thing Lamont wanted
from Yvonne was for her to decorate this house so beautifully, potential buyers would be sold on the remaining properties
as soon as they completed a virtual tour of her home.
The one-story cerulean-blue Caribbean-style stucco with brick-colored shutters was nestled in trees, azalea bushes, and a
blend of flowers that bloomed until late fall. There was a brick walkway leading to the front porch, which covered the expanse
of the front of the house, a brick-colored door, two rockers in indigo and a rich creamy yellow, and a double rocker in the
same brick red as the front door.
As soon as the door opened, there were café au lait hardwood floors Yvonne had installed with the help of the girls, and a
large tree plant in a blue pot with tiny flowers painted all over it in colors matching the porch furniture. The walls were
a rich creamy color with delicate hints of cocoa in it. The living room was small and cozy with a baby-blue velvet love seat,
mint velvet oversize chair with pink and lavender silk pillows, and a hand-painted baby-blue trunk with Yvonne’s, D’Relle’s,
and Danesha’s names painted all over it in pink, mint green, lavender, and indigo. There were two small indigo end tables
that held mint lamps and bright silk flower arrangements in pale yellow vases. And there were photos of Yvonne and the girls
on the walls in a mixture of modern, antique, and hand-painted frames.
The dining room was more sedate with a walnut table and hutch with crisp clean lines, and matching Shaker-style chairs. This
room was elegant and simply decorated with natural plants and original paintings of Durham’s Black Wall Street section, or
Hayti, which was a thriving area back in the first half of the twentieth century. The cocoa-colored family room and pale almond
kitchen were spacious and comfortable adjoining rooms that afforded Yvonne and the girls a great place to play, work, and
enjoy one another’s company in the evenings.