I side-eyed him. “You know how women can be to each other. Are they gonna be making little slick remarks and bringing up the chick you dated in high school that they loved?”
He sighed. “In my experience with them . . . I’m gonna say . . .”
“That’s a lot of hesitation, Kaynaan. That must mean that they’re mean girls.” I sighed again. “I wish you would’ve told me this. I definitely would’ve brought LoLo. Now it’s gonna be me versus your family?”
He twisted his face. “Hell nah. I’ll curse every damn body out before that happens.” He typed into his phone. “And I’m enlisting Shiloh and Eden to look out for you if for some reason Iget pulled away. You know Shiloh’s cool. Eden is more like LoLo. She’ll go round for round if somebody says something slick. The thing about my family is that none of the people who will be here ever remember a time when the Israels didn’t have money.
“Before my great grandfather founded Grand Aviation, he was an aeronautic engineer for Eastern Airlines. They were very much well fixed. They had money. My great grandfather founding Grand Aviation took them into the next stratosphere. They went from rich to very wealthy. They’ve ever only known wealth. They can be pretentious and elitist. I’ll try my best to keep them away from you.”
“Please do. And please, please, let’s not let anybody know that I’m pregnant.”
“Okay.”
I was quiet for the rest of the drive thinking that agreeing to come had been a mistake and praying that things wouldn’t go left.
Kaynaan said that Thanksgiving was held at his paternal grandparents’ house. What he meant was that it was held at their estate. We were met at the gate house by an attendant who greeted Kaynaan by name. He opened the gates to allow the truck to drive up the long tree-lined pathway. Soon, we pulled onto a circular driveway that was already lined with vehicles.
“Are we late? This is a lot of cars and trucks.”
“We’re not late. Let’s go.”
I had never really thought about the intrinsic differences between people with regular money and those who had wealth for generations until we walked into Kaynaan’s grandparents’ home. When we stepped into the elaborate foyer, we were not greeted with the smells one would associate with Thanksgiving dinner being prepared. Instead, the air smelled like a combination of lilacs and sunshine.
“Kaynaan,” an older lady wearing an all-black ensemble consisting of starched black slacks, a black pullover top, and black loafers said with a smile when she spotted us.
“Ms. Cora. Hey.” He pulled her into a firm hug.
She patted his back several times before they broke the embrace. Then her gaze was on me. “This must be her,” she said conspiratorially. “Mrs. Georgia musta mentioned that you was bringin’ a lady friend home for Thanksgivin’ every day for the last ten days. First time you ever done that.”
He grinned at her. “I know.”
She looked at me and gave a small smile. “You must be special.”
Kaynaan jumped in. “She is. Wyn, this is Ms. Cora. She practically raised my sisters and me while our parents worked.”
“Easiest child I ever had a hand in raising,” she said.
“Ms. Cora, this is my girl, my future, Wyndi.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I extended my hand.
Cora shook it but then pulled me into a hug. “What a pretty little thing you are. I see how you stole this one’s heart. He never could resist long hair. He never left his mama’s alone. When he was about six, Dr. Bethany cut her hair because it was getting in the way during surgeries. This one here”—She hiked her thumb toward Kaynaan—“was inconsolable. Cried for hours until he cried himself to sleep. Woke up and cried some more.”
We all laughed.
“Well, don’t let me keep you, baby. Go on out to the backyard. That’s where the family is. You know those boys done brought out that football, and those men are probably messing around on that putting green your grandfather had put in. We won’t eat for another coupla hours.”
He dropped a kiss on her smooth fair skin. “See you later.”
He took my hand and led me down an ornate hallway that was lined with formal family pictures. I wanted to look at them.See if I could pick out a young Kaynaan, but he seemed to be on a mission.
“You nervous?” I asked him.
“If nervous is a code word for dreading something.”
“You’re dreading?” I stopped walking.
“It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with my grandmother. I have this feeling in my stomach that she’s about to say or do something that’s gonna make you feel some type of way, and I’m gonna have to rock her shit.”
