“So, why this neighborhood as opposed to one of the upper scale or at least mid-income level areas?” he asked, jumping right into the deep.
I sipped my coffee and closed my eyes for a moment to savor the taste. When I opened my eyes again, he stared blankly at me.
“What?” I asked, still quietly pondering his question.
“Why did you choose to open a bakery in this neighborhood as opposed to one of the upper scale or at least mid-income level areas?”
“Why not this one?”
“You didn’t grow up around here, did you?” he challenged.
“Old Barrington Heights? No, I didn’t.”
“So, I’ll ask you again, . . . why this neighborhood?”
“You say that as if only those who grew up around here are allowed to invest in this area.” My tone was petulant, as was my body language when I set my cup down and crossed my arms over my chest.
“No, I’m saying this like the only people interested in pouring back into this area are those of us with ties to this area. Old Barrington Heights is the poorest section of Cherokee Springs. It’s a rough section of the city, and I ain’t gon’ hold ya, the residents are not always welcoming to outsiders.”
I nodded. “I know that. I grew up in River Oaks, but we often did community service out here when I was growing up.”
“So, you came from money?”
I released a dry chuckle and shook my head in a swift arc. “We weren’t Charley West wealthy, but more like the Huxtables comfortable,” I explained, referring toQueen SugarandThe Cosby Show.
“Definitely notGood Timesthough, right?”
“Not at all. My mama and daddy weren’t wealthy, but they provided a comfortable lifestyle for us. Daddy was a judge, and Mama was a physician’s assistant. They wanted to make sure that we understood the value of hard work and appreciate what we had been blessed with, while giving back to those who were less fortunate than us.
“Through the church and Girl Scouts, my mama made sure that we volunteered every year. When I did it through Girl Scouts, my brothers did it through Boy Scouts with my daddy. It made an impression on me, and I always vowed that someday, I would return and make a difference. I don’t have a lot of money, but I have gifts and skills. I can use those to give back.
“Another contributing factor that led me here was the prime location between the hood and downtown. I get to serve two very diverse clientele while helping one of them through jobs,donations, and taxes. I truly want to make a difference in a place that needs me, not one that has everything they already need.”
“We appreciate you.”
“So, I take it that you did grow up here.” I picked up my cup and wrapped my lips around my straw again and eyed him casually.
He shook his head, surprising me. “Nah, I didn’t.”
I released a dry, humorless chuckle. “What’s with all that talk then?”
He shined that brilliant smile on me again and replied, “My father used to do work in this area. He used to make sure that we came back and gave back too.”
“What about your mom? Where is she from?”
The way that he cast his glance at the table and scratched the back of his neck told me that he was uncomfortable with the question. When he answered it, he surprised me again. “Cherokee Falls.”
I lifted an eyebrow and slowly lowered my cup. “You come from the wealthiest area of Cherokee Springs, and you’re judging me?”
He turned his lips down. “Not judging, beautiful. It was pure curiosity that had me asking. Just wanted to make sure that your motives were pure and that you weren’t in for a disappointing experience. My parents were something out of a fiction romance. He was the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, and she was the rich, private school girl, destined to marry someone from her privileged world.”
“I’m guessing your grandparents weren’t happy when she chose your father.”
“Not at first, but in time, he won them over. They watched him work hard to put himself through college and medical school. No matter how many dates she was forced to go on with other men, he never gave up. When he finally graduatedfrom medical school and earned his MD, he approached my maternal grandfather and had a long conversation with him. My grandfather called my mother and grandmother to the living room after the conversation, and my father proposed, and my mother accepted.”
I laughed. “That is a beautiful love story.”
“I’d like to think so. My mama loves my daddy, and my daddy will burn the world down behind my mama. I’d hate to think of how it would have been had my grandparents remained against them.”
