“Well, hello.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Gwen Brooks, Lamar’s mother. Who are you?”
I shook her hand. “Hi, Mrs. Brooks. I’m Jazmyn Payne. I’m friends with Lamar.”
“I would hope so, since you’re sitting in his vehicle.” She let out a little laugh before she stepped back and gestured to me. “Cut the car off, and come on inside. I taught him better than this.” She shook her head and took a step back. “Come on.”
I’d been raised with some sense, so I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
I rolled the window up, pressed the button to stop the car, and followed Lamar’s mom up the driveway. She had a grocery bag and an expensive purse in one hand. The other held her keys that she jingled with each step.
“Your dreadlocks are beautiful, Jazmyn. Who’s your stylist?”
“Thank you! Her name is Oakley. Her shop is in Maryland.”
“If you’re ever looking for a local salon, check out Hot Comb.”
“Thank you for the suggestion. Did they do your bob? I love it!”
“Thank you! You are so sweet! Are you from around here?” she asked.
“I grew up in Chance.”
She gasped. “You did?!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, that just tickles me! It’s been a long time since Lamar brought home afriend—let alone a local friend.”
We walked through the front door, and I felt the same welcoming energy that Lamar and his mother possessed.
As if on cue, Lamar jogged down the stairs with two duffel bags. As soon as he spotted us, he had questions.
“Ma, what was so urgent?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Bill had no clue what was going on, and you made it seem like it was an emergency.”
“I never said the word ‘emergency,’” she clarified as she headed down the hall. “Follow me.”
Lamar and I exchanged smiles as she led us into the kitchen.
“I made you something, and I didn’t want you to forget it,” his mom stated, placing her grocery bag on the island. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out an aluminum foil–covered loaf of some sort. “A few days ago, you said you wanted a lemon pound cake, so after the early service of church, I came home and made you one.”
“I appreciate that, Ma.” He put down his duffel bags and went to hug his mother. “But don’t ever call me sounding panicked again. I thought something was wrong.”
“Something would’ve been wrong if I made this cake for you and you’d already hit the road.” She crossed her arms over her chest and then winked at me. “I met your Jazmyn.”
Your Jazmyn.
His eyes locked with mine, and a slow smile spread across his face. “I see that.” He shifted his gaze to his mother. “I was going to introduce you, but you went ahead and did that yourself.”
She laughed. “You left her in the car, so Ihadto do it myself. And while we’re talking about it, don’t leave her in the car again.”
“I won’t.” He grabbed his bags and hoisted them onto his shoulders. “I have to drop Jazz off and then get on the road. But thank you again for this.” He held up the foil-covered cake. “Love you.”
“I love you, too.” She shifted her gaze to me. “Oh!” Digging into her designer handbag, she searched for something. “I don’t have a card on me. But either way, don’t be a stranger, Jazmyn. It was lovely to meet you.”
She gave me a hug.
“It was lovely to meet you, too,” I told her.
The hug felt so motherly that I couldn’t help but think about my aunt. Guilt stabbed me as I realized I hadn’t checked on her for the last five hours.
