Pushing back his chair, Frank crossed one knee over the over. “Tell me about it.”
Justine didn’t know what it was, but she felt comfortable telling him about how she’d taken on a part-time job as a typist for college students and their professors. “The extra money comes in handy, because I’m able to buy things I wouldn’t have if I depend on my regular paycheck.”
“What did you buy with your extra money?” Frank questioned.
“A television. Now, I’m saving up for an electric typewriter. I’ve been typing on an old manual that has seen its better days. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it has done what I need it to do to get the job done, but I would type a lot faster on an electric model.”
“You really deserve a medal for what you’ve had to sacrifice to raise your son alone. He really impressed my mother, who wants to teach him how to cook Italian food. But that means he would have to come to her home at least once a week.”
Justine shook her head. “That’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want him going across town by himself, and Kenny knows he must keep up with schoolwork.”
“What about the summer? Do you have anything planned for him during the summer recess? I could pick him up and drop him off if you don’t feel comfortable with him taking public transportation.”
Justine gave Francis a long, lingering stare. It was the first time she’d invited a man into her home, other than the building superintendent to make repairs, and never a White man. She had made it a practice not to get involved with any of the tenants in the building. She’d nod and smile, but that was it. If they thought her stuck up, then so be it. However, there was something about her son’s friend’s uncle that had put herat ease with him. If his mother wanted to teach her son to cook, then it was a skill he could possibly use in the future. Much like her typing and shorthand skills that afforded her the ability to make money off the books.
“Are you certain that won’t put you out?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t volunteer if it would put me out.”
Justine smiled. “Okay.”
Frank also smiled. “I’ll tell my mother to expect him once the school term is over.”
The smell of brewing coffee filled the kitchen, and Justine turned off the stove. She opened the refrigerator and took out a container of cream for herself. “I don’t know what you gave me for leftovers, but I’d like to return the favor and offer you several slices of a praline-pecan sweet potato pie to take to your mother.”
“Would you mind if I sample a slice here?”
Justine had baked the pie earlier that morning, because it was Kenny’s favorite. She poured coffee into two cups, then cut a generous slice of pie for Francis. After adding cream to her coffee, she sat down at the table watching Francis eat.
“Damn, woman! This is delicious,” he said, then clapped his hand over his mouth once he realized the curse had slipped out. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I’ve heard and said worse.”
“This is the best sweet potato pie I’ve ever eaten.”
Justine inclined her head. “Thank you. I usually make it when your nephew and Ray come to study with Kenny.”
“You feed them, too?”
“Of course. There’s no way you can concentrate when your belly is rumbling because you need to eat.”
Frank slowly nodded. “Teenage boys can eat you out of house and home. I remember when me and my brother would come home after playing baseball or basketball and clean out the refrigerator. And forget about juice or soda. My mother would punish us because we would drink out of the bottle or container rather than pour it into a glass.”
“That’s so nasty,” Justine said, scrunching up her nose.
“We didn’t think so at the time.” Frank finished eating and drank the coffee. “Thank you so much for the pie and coffee.”
Pushing back her chair, Justine stood. “Don’t leave yet. I’m going to pack up some pie for your mother.” She cut half the pie and placed it in a glass dish with a cover, then slipped it into a brown paper bag.
He stood up and took the bag, smiling. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”
Justine smiled up at him. “Thank you for bringing my boy home safe.”
Frank nodded, then turned. Justine followed him to the door. She closed and locked it behind him.
