5
Welcome to the Havenheart Ranch,” Slade boasted proudly as he helped Mandisa out of the SUV. Once she was on her feet, she turned around in a circle to take in the scenery aroundher.
Mandisa was instantly uncomfortable at the sight of his home. She was expecting a plush apartment somewhere. Something that felt rich, pretty, and superficial, reminding her of who he truly was and why she was there with him. What she met instead were endless peaks of proud hills and bottomless valleys that cradled calm water. A ranch filled with reddish-brown earth, verdant grass, golden blades of hay, and other ranch-type elements a city girl like her only saw on television showbackdrops.
She turned again in the circular driveway to face his home, again divested of her assumptions when a modest two-story house sat where she’d assumed a sprawling mansion would be. His house wasn’t small. She’d wager there were at least four or five bedrooms in it, just from her current view. However, it looked like something out of a common suburban neighborhood, with nothing gaudy or attention-grabbing aboutit.
Everything from the warm beige and brown earth tones of the exterior to the colorful garden along its perimeter invited its guests to relax and take refuge inside. The soothing scenery instantly put Mandisa on edge. She immediately distrusted anything in this man’s world that encouraged her to let her guarddown.
Never trust when things are too nice. Nice is anillusion.
“What do you think?” Slade’s question pulled her from her musings. She was just about to answer when the front door to the house opened, and a short, middle-aged African-American woman whose smile and eyes were marked with wisdom and knowledge ambled out onto the porch. She was petite, but Mandisa could detect the cloak of confidence she wore as she stood at the top of the front porch stairs with her hands mounted firmly on herhips.
“Is that my Slade?” she asked, her smile brightening, curving her lips even deeper thanbefore.
Slade grabbed Mandisa’s hand and pulled her toward the porch. “Sho’ is, Mama Indy, and I brought afriend.”
Slade hopped up the few stairs and only released Mandisa’s hand to wrap both arms around the older woman, swooping her up into a giant hug that lifted her off herfeet.
“You silly man, g’on put me down.” It was obvious to anyone witnessing the scene that the woman Slade referred to as Mama Indy had no real fire in herreprimand.
Slade gently settled the elder woman back on the porch, placing a sweet peck on her brown cheek. “You miss me, MamaIndy?”
She laughed. “‘Course I did.” She patted his arm lovingly before she turned her sights on Mandisa. “Now who is this pretty young lady with the beautifulsmile?”
It wasn’t until Mandisa played the woman’s words over quickly in her own head that Mandisa realized her lips were, indeed, curving into a happy smile. How could Mandisa not smile? The scene between the two people before her was so tender and loving, not unlike the many Mandisa had shared with her ownmother.
“This is Mandisa Avery. We met in New York, and she’s here to spend a little time with me and possibly do a little business.” Slade turned to Mandisa, stepping slightly to the side. “Mandisa, this is my former nanny and my surrogate mother, Mrs. Indira Price. She’s one of two women responsible for raisingme.”
By the twinkle in his eye, Mandisa could feel Slade’s sincerity when he spoke of the matron. Mandisa offered her a hand in greeting, only to have it shoved away. In a split second, she found herself enclosed in strong, thin arms that held her in place as the elder woman rocked Mandisa in herarms.
“You’re a friend of my Slade’s. Makes you family. Family getshugs.”
A little thrown by the woman’s friendliness—New Yorkers didn’t share personal space with strangers; they had to ease into that sort of physical affection—Mandisa fell into the unexpected comfort of her captor’sarms.
“I’m a friend of Slade’s. How come you never greet me with hugs?” The warm spell of the embrace was broken when Aaron spoke from behindthem.
“’Cause you’re trouble, and I don’t invite trouble into myhome.”
Aaron waved a dismissive hand as he walked up to the porch and dropped a loud smack of a kiss on the matron’s waiting cheek. “You know you love me, oldwoman.”
“Call me old again, and I’ll take my shotgun to yourhide.”
Aaron threw both his hands in the air and backed away slowly into the house, leaving the three of them alone on theporch.
“Y’all chil’en come on inside and get some of this here food I cookedup.”
Mandisa hadn’t even thought about food, but the moment they all shuffled into the house, the distinct smell of blended spices and bacon—oh, God, real bacon—and something baked and buttery called to Mandisa through theair.
“You hungry, darlin’?” Slade’s question barely registered as Mandisa looked at a full spread of enticing food waiting at the breakfasttable.
“If I wasn’t before, I am now.” Mandisa followed Slade’s lead and moved over to the slush sink to wash her hands. Hands now clean and dry, Mandisa sat down, taking her eyes briefly away from the food to see Aaron pulling his napkin from the table and spreading it across hislap.
“Can’t wait to dig in to this food, Mama Indy. You got any of your special blend coffee around?” Aaron picked up his fork as he spoke, filling his plate with eggs and thick-cut bacon, the kind you couldn’t buy in a pack but had to have sliced from a slab at a butcher. Mandisa’s mouth watered. Bacon was her weakness. Her mother used to make slab bacon on Sunday mornings before church. It was salty, and tasty, and everything that was perfect about a good cut ofbacon.
When Aaron went to stuff his fork into the mound of food he’d shoveled onto his plate and attempted to lift it to his mouth, Indira stood with her arms crossed and her eyebrow lifted. The silent cue was all Aaron needed to drop his fork back onto the plate and fold his hands patiently in front ofhim.
“Now let us bow our heads.” Indira led them into a brief prayer of thanks, and then silence ensued. The only noise from any of them was the minor clang of the metal cutlery touching the ceramicdishes.
