I shake my head as I pull out of the driveway. “No, he works at Townsend Industries. Cypress and Townsend are working on something together.”
“That’s right, that’s right.” She nods, recalling our previous conversations about my work. “He must be nice to invite us over for Thanksgiving.”
“It was more his sister-in-law that invited us.” I still didn’t know what prompted the woman I just met to invite my mother and me over to her family’s home for dinner on a major holiday.
When I asked Mark about it, he shrugged and said, “Resha loves feeding people.”
Then he proceeded to make a joke about how I couldn’t cook, so I might as well take her up on the invite. Recalling his teasing, I smile, but turn to look at my mom as we come to a red light.
She’s eyeing me with a funny expression on her face.
“You okay?”
She nods. “I’m fine, baby.”
I’m not sure I believe her, but I don’t push the issue. I’m just happy she’s out of the house and didn’t insist on remaining at home while I go out.
“Tonight’ll be fun, Mama. Just watch,” I say in an encouraging voice.
She nods before staring out the window.
I try to convince myself of my own words.
I hearanother car’s engine and roll over to Connor and Resha’s living room window to peer outside. My frown deepens when I notice the black vehicle parked out front.
Jackie’s car is silver.
Impatiently, I watch as Damon, one of Connor’s close friends from the Underground, climbs out of his car before opening the passenger side doors for his wife and stepdaughter.
“You gonna get the door or just stare at ’em the whole time?”
Rolling my eyes, I push away from the window and toss a middle finger over my shoulder at Connor before moving to the entryway to open the door.
“Mark,” Damon greets, giving me a handshake. “You remember Sandra and my daughter, Monique.”
Despite my impatient mood, I find myself smiling at the little girl with big, brown eyes.
“I do. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Mark,” she says before leaning in and hugging me.
I make room for them to enter. “Come in.”
“There he is,” Damon says, and I know that’s his custom greeting for Connor.
I let their banter fall to the recesses of my mind as I peer out the doorway just in time to spot Jackie’s silver sedan pulling up in front of the house. I meet her and her mother at the foot of the walking path that leads to the door.
“You made it.” Right now is when I realize that I was carrying a slight fear that she wouldn’t show up.
“Mark, hi. Sorry, we’re running a little late.”
I wave her off.
“This is my mother, Marietta Hinkerson.”
“Mrs. Hinkerson, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She gives me a small smile and a wave. This is the first time I’ve seen Jackie’s mother in person, and I wouldn’t need the introduction to know precisely who she is. Jackie is the spitting image of her mother.
