"Folks look at women raisin' babies and think it's light work," he murmurs, his age-roughened voice softened by memory. "It's the hardest damn thing anyone'll ever do."
I raise an eyebrow, "You always this perceptive, Mr. Jefferson?"
He laughs. "God, no, sugar. You know that men are slow on the uptake. Took me half a century to learn that. We like to peacock and call ourselves providers, like we're beatin' our chest and remindin' ourselves of our worth. Ronnie set meright. She'd laugh and say, 'Morris, you may bring in lumber, but I build and keep the damn house. It needs both.'"
The words land hard, and I feel stripped to the bone in the middle of this store. He speaks like it's from experience, wise old words I'd be a fool not to listen to. My contributions, monetary or not, are still as important at Atlas.
If Mr. Jefferson could figure that out, maybe Atlas could one day. But am I willing to wait around for him to figure it out?
Morris shakes his head and smiles fondly, eyes drifting to a place only he can see. "My Ronnie..."
"She was great," I comment, remembering Ronnie Jefferson singing during our Christmas pageants growing up. She had a voice like an angel when she sang, and everyone would just stop and marvel at her. "Uh, it's... $67.95."
Mr. Jefferson pays for his groceries before he reaches down to the bouquet of flowers. He plucks out a sunflower and then holds it out to me. "Oh, Mr. Jefferson—"
"Ronnie loved sunflowers, know why?"
I shake my head.
"They'resmart.Theyseekthe light," he says, placing the beautiful flower in my hand. His palm is warm as he sets his hand over mine and squeezes, "Seek your light, Wendy darlin'."
Nose burning, I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay and nod. He pats my hand once before letting go and pushing his cart forward. "See you next week. Don't miss me too much, sugar."
I laugh, "Get home safe, Mr. Jefferson."
Mabel walks out of her office, then, waving to Mr. Jefferson as he passes, and heads straight for me just as I close my lane for my lunch break.
"How's it going?" she asks, eyes flicking from my face to the sunflower clutched to my chest.
"It's going great, Mabel," I say, the truth of it surprising me even as I speak. I gently touch the petals of the golden flower in my hand. "It's going great."
Chapter Nine
Wendy
Imani Lloyd is a shark wrapped in silk.
Her office is stunning with its white marble at the front desk, gleaming hardwood hallways lined with tasteful art, and a glass-walled office that’s both glamorous and calming. I had been shaking like I was headed to the gallows, but my fear melted the moment I stepped inside.
I was greeted by a kind-eyed receptionist who told me Imani would be with me shortly and asked if I wanted water, coffee, or tea. I worried the caffeine would make my already erratic heart burst, so I opted for a glass of water that came with lemon in a crystal glass.
Everyone I encountered, from receptionists to paralegals to lawyers, spoke softly and kindly. These cases are draining and heartbreaking, and Imani’s office treats clients with the care they clearly need.
"Wendy," I glance up to see Imani walking toward me, still as stunning as when I last saw her a couple of years ago.
She's petite, with long black hair, hazel eyes, and luminous, deep brown skin, so much like Taylor's. She's certainly dressed to impress in a silky light pink blouse, a black pencil skirt, and matching sky-high heels.
She greets me with a megawatt smile and a warm hug. "It’s so good to see you."
"Thank you so much for this," I whisper, my voice wobbling,but I straighten my spine and lift my chin.
"Of course. You're practically family," Imani smiles, gesturing with her head for me to follow her. "Come back to my office so we can chat."
Her private office is beautiful, walls and surfaces lined with pictures of her family—including many of Taylor, her favorite niece.
I don't know if it's a consequence of her career, but I know that Imani is in her mid-forties and unmarried. She perfectly embodies that rich aunt that always shows up to the holiday parties in fancy clothes, in her expensive car, and slips a fifty in your hand with a wink.
From the pictures all around the world, Imani lives a fulfilled, rewarding life. I know from Taylor that she's been incredibly successful in her career, specializing in caring for women and ensuring they get what they're owed.
