Reese stepped aside, and she entered a room with a large antique spindle bed covered with handmade quilts and mounds of pillows. A chaise lounge covered in white Haitian cotton was positioned in a corner near a trio of floor-to-ceiling shuttered windows. She touched a wall and discovered it wasn’t covered with wallpaper but a sunny-yellow print fabric, before she glanced up at the blades of the mahogany ceiling fan, which were reminiscent of large leaves. A small desk doubled as a bedside table with a pale jade-green ginger-jar table lamp. The space was more than a bedroom. It was a retreat.
“It’s perfect.”
Reese set her bag on the bench seat at the foot of the bed. “I’m glad you like it. You can put your things in the dresser drawers and hang up what you want in the armoire.” He pointed to a door. “That was a closet, but now it’s a bathroom with a commode, vanity, and shower stall.”
Having access to a bath in the bedroom indicated she didn’t have to share one with Reese. “When you take me on the tour, I’d like for you to give me the history on everything in this house.”
He smiled. “There’s a lot of history attached to every piece in this house.”
“I’ll put my things away later. Right now, I’m willing to help you in the kitchen anyway I can.”
Reese caught her hand, gently squeezing her fingers. “There’s not much to do. I turned the temperature down on the chicken, and it should be done by now. The sweet potato casserole and the collard greens are in the warming drawer. I wanted to wait until you got here to ask if you want cornbread or biscuits.”
“You are really full of surprises. I know you said that your grandmother taught you to cook . . .” Her words trailed off when she realized the man with whom she found herself involved was truly an enigma. Kayana said he came from a long line of master carpenters, and no doubt he was one, but he also cooked.
“Gram was an exceptional cook,” Reese said as they left the bedroom and headed for the staircase. “Some said she was almost as good as the Johnsons.”
“Derrick and Kayana are phenomenal cooks,” Cherie stated matter-of-factly.
“That’s because they come from generations of phenomenal cooks. Their recipes for mac and cheese, Creole chicken and buttermilk waffles, potato salad, and lasagna are family secrets that they’ve pledged never to divulge on pain of death.”
Cherie laughed. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. The first time I ate their mac and cheese and lasagna, I truly had an out-of-body moment. I was moaning like Meg Ryan in the restaurant scene in the movieWhen Harry Met Sally.”
Reese chuckled. “Were you alone when you had your moment?”
“No. Kayana and Leah looked at me as if I’d lost my mind until I had to explain to them that it was the food.”
“Some dishes can trigger sensual overload.”
“You’re right,” Cherie agreed. “Whenever I watch period dramas, there’s always an abundance of food. It could be hunks of beef, different birds, fruit, wines, and desserts.”
“What else did the nobles have to do but put on elaborate dinners for their families and guests? It was all about who could outdo the others.”
“You’re right about that, Reese. I’ve seen the same at weddings. After the cocktail hour, there’s a four- or five-course dinner, followed by a Viennese table with an assortment of desserts that’s almost sinful when there are millions of starving people, not only in this country but all over the world.”
“Have you gone to many weddings?”
“Enough,” she said. “Some of my classmates in high school also attended Yale, and we managed to keep in touch with one another. There was a time when I attended two to three weddings every year until it trickled down to one, and then they stopped altogether by the time we turned thirty.”
Cherie couldn’t tell Reese that she’d been invited to Weylin and Michelle’s wedding and, like a lovesick fool, had attended because she didn’t want to raise a red flag with her former classmates, who had known she and Weylin were close friends. She’d become the consummate actress when she laughed and danced with many of the men in attendance. Several had asked for her number so they could get together at another time. She’d given it to them, yet when they’d called she’d made the excuse that she was now dating someone and thanked them for their interest. Unbeknownst to them, she’d continued to sleep with the groom only days after he’d returned from his honeymoon.
“Have you attended any of your class reunions?” Reese asked.
“I missed my tenth-year reunion, but hopefully I’ll make it to the twentieth.” She couldn’t tell Reese that she missed the reunion because she was in the early stages of her pregnancy; because she was spotting, her doctor recommended she limit her activities.
“I missed both my tenth and twentieth because of deployments.”
“Where were you deployed?”
“Afghanistan.”
“How many deployments, Reese?”
A beat passed. “Four.”
“That’s a lot,” Cherie whispered.
He nodded. “After the last one, I swore not to sign up again, and now that we’re out, I hope we’ll never have to go back.”
