“Enola, can you come with me?”
Enola looked up from the screen at Karen, her supervisor. Standing next to Karen was her good friend, Crystal. Neither were smiling.
“I need to see you in my office. Crystal is gonna take over for you.”
Something was definitely wrong. Enola never got called into the office.
“Oo-kay,” Enola mumbled as she pulled off her headset and stood. “Is everything okay?”
“Please, just come with me,” Karen urged.
Enola shared worried glances with Crystal before nodding and following Karen to her office. They walked in silence, and only spoke once the door was closed.
“So, what’s up, Karen?”
“Enola, your aunt Ruby called. You need to get to New Orleans. Sweetheart, your grandmother is dying.”
Karen spoke softly, and her tone was sympathetic. Enola actually felt bad for her for having to deliver such horrible news.
“D–did my Aunt Ruby say anything else?” Enola asked.
“No, just that you need to come right away. Don’t worry, I’ll handle the paperwork for your time off. You just go be with your family.”
Enola fought the tears that threatened to escape as she thought about the wonderful summers she’d spent with her grandma, Marie. From cooking, to healing with herbs, she had taught her so much throughout the years. As a child, Enola couldn’t wait for the end of the school year because it was the preamble to her spending time with her grandmother in the quarter, as well as the bayou.
“Enola?” Karen called out, interrupting the moment of nostalgia.
“Y-yes. Sorry,” Enola recovered.
“Go. Go see your family. The crime in Chicago will still be here when you get back.”
Enola forced a chuckle. “Okay, thanks, Karen,” she responded softly before leaving the office.
CHAPTER THREE
Enola walked, with her luggage, through the airport. Just before making it to the exit through arrivals, she noticed a tall, white man resembling Herman Munster, holding up a sign that read: ENOLA ROUX.
She walked towards the giant of a man and said, “I’m Enola,” while handing him her luggage.
She followed the man out of the sliding doors into a more than luxurious limousine. Neither the car, nor the driver was a surprise to Enola. Even with her down-home swamp values, her Grand-Mere Marie was a wealthy woman. She had created a haircare line that was used by whites and blacks alike. Once she became bored with “Corporate America”, she went public and retired. Marie LaRue was a shrewd businesswoman and a true child of Louisiana. No matter how much money she made, she could still be found tending her crops or shelling peas from the rocking chair on her front porch.
Thankfully, on the way to her grandmother’s house, the driver avoided the French Quarter. At seven o’clock at night, getting through the traffic in the quarter would have been nearly impossible. Enola relaxed in the backseat as they drove through the busy city, until they were just outside of New Orleans. They were in Destrehan, where the large plantations were located. Memories flooded Enola’s brain as they pulled into her grandmother’s massive plantation. They drove through the greenest of crops, and the most colorful floral brocade that appeared to be an army standing at attention.
And it felt like home.
It was home. Her Grandma Marie had instilled the entire history of their colorful family in Enola since she could remember. Their entire line had lived on the enormous plantation since their arrival from West Africa; first as slaves, then as free people, and ultimately proprietors. The large, white mansion, with refurbished slave quarters in the rear, on the outskirts of New Orleans, was her family’s legacy.
The driver maneuvered the circular driveway and stopped in front of the plantation’s large front porch. Enola’s aunt, Ruby, along with a host of the house staff were waiting out front. Looking at her well-dressed aunt and the very proper staff, Enola wished that she had dressed better. Once the limousine came to a complete stop, Enola hopped out and hurried to her aunt.
The sight of Ruby, with her arms outstretched, was comforting. Her yellow sundress and long braids were blowing in the wind, and her bronze skin was glowing under the warm sun. Ruby was beautiful, and she knew it. Ruby could play almost any man like a fiddle. She used her looks and charm to bring the most stubborn of men to their knees.
“Welcome, baby girl,” Ruby breathed as they embraced.
“It’s good to see you, Ruby.”
Ruby stepped back and inspected Enola with signature family hazels. “You lookin’ good, girl.”
Enola smiled, shaking her head. “Naw, you’re the one. You look amazing.”
