Ray snorted into his coffee.
Lesha turned to Ray and smiled politely. “You must be her Daddy.”
“I am,” Ray nodded, standing tall. “Welcome to the Juniper.”
“Thank you,” she said warmly. “I came straight from the airport. I usually cook him a special dinner after every one of his wins. Ain’t no way I was gon’ let y’all eat whatever bachelor meal he was gon’ throw together.”
Zaire rolled his eyes. “Mama, I can cook.”
“Oh, I do the cooking,” Meadow tried to let her know, but the jokes between Zaire and his Mama overshadowed her.
Lesha lifted one eyebrow. “You burnt toast in 2009. I ain’t never forgot.”
Ray cackled so hard he slapped his knee.
Meadow laughed too, even though she was still trying to understand how this woman managed to take over a porch in three minutes flat.
Lesha turned back to her son. “I brought all the stuff for my winning dinner. Salmon, vegetables, yams- he like ‘em extra sweet, shrimp for the pasta, and that little lemonade he drink like it cure diseases.” She pinched his cheek. “Come bring the groceries in.”
Zaire sighed and followed her to the SUV.
Meadow stayed on the porch for a second longer, letting her heart settle. She felt…comfort, surprised comfort. Lesha’s presence was a balm she didn’t know she needed.
Ray walked over and nudged her lightly. “I like her.”
Meadow nodded. “I do too.”
Zaire and Ray helped Lesha unload the truck while Meadow tried not to stare to hard.
When the groceries were unloaded, the house warmed instantly - garlic…butter…sizzling shrimp. Lesha hummed old R&B while she cooked like she had known this kitchen all her life.
Zaire leaned against the counter, watching his Mama move. Meadow stood beside him, her shoulder brushing his. He didn’t pull away.
“You okay?” Zaire murmured, an intimate question disguised under low volume.
Meadow nodded and pressed her knuckles into her thigh. “She’s amazing…”
“Hella amazing,” Zaire agreed.
Meadow glanced up. “You look happy.”
Zaire shrugged, but the edge of his mouth curved into something softer. “It’s been a minute since she cooked for me, feels good.”
He didn’t add the rest, but Meadow heard it anyway…feels good to feel normal…feels better to win.
Lesha suddenly looked back. “Meadow, baby, you cook?”
“I do.”
“Good,” Lesha smiled. “You gon’ help me with this sauce. He ain’t never had nobody make it the way I taught him, but me.”
Meadow felt her cheeks warm. “Yes ma’am.”
“And don’t call me ma’am. My name Lesha.”
Meadow nodded. “Yes…Lesha.”
“Mmhmm.” Lesha eyed her outfit. “You got hips. You better use ‘em when he act stupid.”
