Enola knitted her eyebrows and studied her grandmother, attempting to gauge her mental state, praying that she hadn't gone senile.
“Gran, what are you talking about? My rightful place? What does that mean?”
Marie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Enola admired her grandmother’s flawless complexion. Not one wrinkle marred her smooth skin.
Marie opened her eyes and focused them on Enola with renewed determination. “Not now, child. We’ll talk tomorrow. Go. Marguerite is waiting for you. Tonight, you’ll enjoy the quarter.”
Enola blinked, more confused than ever. “Marguerite?”
“She’s waiting for you,chérie.”
Enola was not surprised by her grandmother’s prediction. She had always been remarkably intuitive. There was no doubt in Enola’s mind that Margo was, indeed, waiting for her. She was relieved that her grandmother’s mind was still intact.
Enola kissed her grandmother’s soft cheek and stood. “I’ll see you at breakfast, Gran.”
“Breakfast,” Marie confirmed with a nod. “Have fun, and don’t let that girl get you in trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Enola chuckled as she turned to leave the room.
“Nola,” Marie called out.
Enola turned to find her grandmother smiling mischievously. “Yes?”
“On second thought, I think you could use a little trouble in your life.”
Enola laughed as she left the bedroom. If there was trouble to be had, Margo could definitely find it.
Enola walked down the long hall and down the staircase. Sure enough, Margo was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
“Heyyyy, cousin!” she screeched excitedly.
“Margo!”
Enola hurried down the stairs and pulled her cousin into her arms. As children, Margo was her partner in crime. She was only one year older, and they looked so much alike that people often asked if they were sisters.
Enola stepped back and surveyed her pretty cousin. She, of course, had the family trait; those hazel, almost amber, eyes. Her skin was golden and her body was bombshell voluptuous. Her long, auburn African locks were secured in a high bun, and her pink romper was cute and feminine.
“Margo, you look amazing.”
“Girl, I know. It’s soooo hard sometimes,” Margo joked, batting her lashes.
Enola rolled her eyes and chuckled.
“Seriously though, Nola, you looking pretty damn amazing yourself. You ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“Come on. Gran told you we were going to the quarter.”
Enola tilted her head and squinted at her cousin. “How the hell do you know what Gran told me?”
Margo smiled. “I’m gifted,” she responded, pulling Enola to the door.
“Wait, heffa! I ain’t got my purse.”
“Damn!” Margo huffed. “Hurry up!”
CHAPTER SIX
