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CHAPTER 7

The first thing Shaundra noticed was that her mother was thinner. The second thing she noticed, as Irene Bailey opened the door, was that her hair, which had been prematurely gray for some time now, was almost completely white. A dull, listless, dingy color that spoke of tough times and stress rather than a natural process. After all, her mom had only turned 47 on her last birthday. It was an age when most women were waving their grown kids off to college and beginning to enjoy their new life. Taking up hobbies, going back to school. Life-affirming things like that.

But as she shifted Benjamin onto her hip and hugged the woman’s bony frame, she reflected, not for the first time, that having six kids, starting at age 16 and continuing every other year until the doctor warned of the dangers of getting pregnant again.

Still, she said truthfully, “It’s good to see you, Mom.” She followed her mother into the decent-sized sitting room of the five-bedroom house she’d bought her mom within months of marrying Nathanael. Ever since she’d left college and began working as a dental hygienist, she’d poured the majority of her income into making sure her mother wouldn’t have to work so hard at her multiple minimum-wage, soul-stealing jobs.

Having access to more money had made it easier, and now she was proud to say that she’d been able to put two of her younger siblings through college and trade school. Her older brother Denzel had joined the army at eighteen and lived on a military base in Texas. Charisma, her sister, younger than Shaundra by only two years, was in cosmetology school. Her mother’s fourth child, Tamika, was a student at Yale, studying to become a criminal lawyer. Shaundra couldn’t be prouder of Tamika. She was the brightest of Irene’s brood, and Shaundra had ensured her sister’s full academic career was paid in full. Her sister had no reason to work while completing her studies.

The youngest two were in high school and still living here with Irene. She felt a moment of irritation when she noticed the mess on the sofa. Books, jackets, and magazines were strewn around. Several pairs of high-top shoes big enough to float away in, do-rags and curling irons, muddy footprints, and a video game console was left on and humming irritably on the wooden floor.

Teenagers, Shaundra thought. Latrell was seventeen and Cedric was fourteen, and they’d both rather be beaten to death with wiffle bats than give their mother a hand around the house.

The wood floors looked scuffed from way too much foot traffic, and the curtains could do with replacing. It felt like no matter how much Shaundra contributed, it never seemed to be enough.

She needed to find a way to convince her mother to hire a housekeeper.

Her mother set down a frosty glass of cola before her, taking Benjamin into her arms in exchange. Shaundra sipped obediently, not bothering to tell her that she’d stopped drinking sodas since the early part of her pregnancy, and never took it up again.

She looked on with a smile as the woman before her bounced her first grandson on her knee. Delight made Irene’s face soften, the years slipping away. “Beautiful boy,” she murmured indulgently. “Can you say ‘Grandma’?”

Shaundra thought about her own early years, as her mother’s second child, when she’d been the one stuck with caring for her younger siblings. Changing diapers and wiping noses while Irene pulled a second or third shift. Later on, helping out with the homework, heating up the frozen dinners, and all the while swearing that she’d never fall into this trap. Never have a baby.

How things changed.

Once Benjamin settled into a snooze, comfortable in the arms of someone who so obviously loved him, Irene focused her attention on her daughter. “You look good.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

Irene tilted her head. “Nathanael’s back, isn’t he.” She said it like someone who knew, who wasn’t asking.

“Uh, yeah.” She would have asked how she knew, but she reminded herself that mothers seemed to know these things. Besides, it was probably written all over her face.

“So everything’s okay, then,” Irene said with satisfaction.

Shaundra bristled. “‘Okay’? No, Ma! Everything’s not okay. Not yet!” After their reunion two weeks ago, Nathanael had left the country—without meeting his son—with the excuse of finalizing the sale on their new home and putting together French immigration documents for her.

Irene murmured, “He’ll come around.”

Shaundra wanted to scream. Why was her mother being so lackadaisical about this? It almost seemed as if she was taking Nathanael’s side! “‘Come around’? Mom! He wouldn’t even be able to pick Benji out of a baby lineup! And shows no sign of—”

Her mothertsk’d. “The problem with you and your generation, is that you got no gratitude. You don’t know when to be grateful when you got a good thing going.”

She gaped. “Excuse me?”

Irene bounced Benji on her knee, not looking the least bit put out by her daughter’s offended reaction. “Let me remind you. Denzel’s father was murdered before he was even born. Your dad—yours, and Charisma’s — got himself locked up for nonsense when you were six and has chosen to make it his regular home. Tamika’s father disappeared as quickly as the positive line appeared on the pregnancy test. Cedric’s father visited twice these past eight years, and only sends him stuff at Christmas. And it’s always clothes and shoes that don’t fit, because that kid’s headed for the NBA, let me tell you. And as for Latrell’s worthless father? All that money he’s making out there on that oil rig, she’s lucky if he sends her fifty bucks at the end of the month.”

She indicated their surroundings with a toss of her head. “And after all I’ve been through raising all of you, I don’t see any man sticking around here. And even if there was one, he certainly wouldn’t be no drop-dead gorgeous, foxy-ass, wealthy man. You, my dear, better count your blessings. Nathanael is offering my little Benji way more in life than any of your fathers ever gave you. Your fathers left me with nothing except an extra mouth to feed. That husband of yours hired a nanny, housekeepers, a driver and everything else to make your life easier. You have nothing to complain about. You my dear have way more than majority of other women.”

Shaundra didn’t know whether to be upset or ashamed at her mother’s verdict. It was true, she knew, that life had been hard for Irene—which was why Shaundra always felt she needed to be there for her—for all of them. It was also true that Nathanael was a wonderful provider.

But to imply that she was ungrateful where Nathanael was concerned. Humph! Whose side was she on seriously?

“So,” Irene was smiling, “he moving back in, or what?”

Ah, here it comes. Would her mother be angry? “About that…”

Irene tilted her head, waiting.

“Nathanael bought an estate in France. He wants us to move there with him—”

“Well, Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!”

Shaundra reacted in surprise. “You’re glad? I thought you’d be mad at me for leaving the country.”

“Of course not. Why would I be mad? Before you had this beautiful baby, you and that man of yours were always gallivanting all over the world, eating good food and sleeping in expensive beds. It was only a matter of time before you left permanently.” She gave her a conspiratorial look. “Besides, it might be exactly what the two of you need to fix whatever nonsense you got going on between you. Maybe the French summer air is just the thing to help you discover what a great thing you got going. Plus, when I meet with my mother’s group, I can boast about my frequent trips to Europe.”

Shaundra smiled and took another sip of her cola, which by now was flat, and said nothing. It rattled her that her mother would easily side with Nathanael. Where’s the womanhood code? She sat back and looked out the window, musing, until Latrell and Cedric came thundering in from school, and madness descended on the house once more.


Tags: Niomie Roland French Conquests Billionaire Romance