Alexis put the heavy cream, milk, and sugar in a saucepan, stirred it, and then let it cook on low heat. She grabbed a bowl, sifted some cornstarch and cocoa powder. Alexis whisked in the eggs and heavy cream to form a paste. She stirred the pot that was on the stove. Next, she put milk in the microwave to warm it. Once it was warm, she gradually poured it in her chocolate pudding mix.

  She smiled as she put her pudding mix into a saucepan and began cooking it on low heat. Making this dessert felt like coming home. All of a sudden she was that nine-year-old girl, helping her mother in their small kitchen.

  “Let me stir the chocolate, Mommy. I can do it.”

  “Okay, baby, you can stir the chocolate,” Vivian told her.

  Tears wet her mother’s face as she stood at the stove, stirring the whipping cream. Her mother always cried when they made this dessert. All Alexis wanted to do was make her feel better. By the time Alexis finished stirring the chocolate, her mother had dried her eyes.

  “You feel better now, Mommy?”

  “Yeah, I’m just sorry you had to see me like that.”

  Alexis had seen her mother “like that” too many times to count. Her mother had been a whirlwind, a hurricane, and a tsunami all at the same time. She knocked things over and barreled over anybody who got in her way. But when they were in the kitchen making this chocolate-cookie crunch trifle, even if only for a moment, when her mom would wipe the tears from her eyes, things would become calm again. They would sit down and enjoy their special dessert and laugh at whatever they found to watch on their nineteen-inch television.

  “Our guests will be here in two hours. Do you think you’ll be ready?” Michael asked, bringing her back to the present. He had a towel wrapped around his waist as he dried his hair with the smaller towel that was in his hand.

  “Have I ever let you down?”

  “Of course not, but I still think you should have hired a caterer.”

  “I hired two servers. They will be here in an hour. I am more than capable of cooking an elegant meal that will impress these Media Matters people.”

  Ethan swung the back door open and would have slammed it if Ella hadn’t been right behind him. She grabbed the door. “You almost hit me, jerk.”

  “I don’t care.” Ethan stomped out of the kitchen and kept on stomping up the stairs on the way to his room.

  Glaring at her husband, she pointed the whisk she used for the chocolate pudding at him. Chocolate dripped on the floor. “What did you do?”

  He shrugged and grinned. “I did what winners do. I won, baby.”

  Shaking her head at him, she said, “Michael Marshall, why can’t you let your son win at something—at least once?”

  Michael glanced in Ethan’s direction. “He’ll be all right, Alexis. My dad never let me win, and I turned out all right.”

  “We might need a second opinion on that,” she joked.

  “Funny, but your son still lost.” He then warned, “And don’t go upstairs babying him. He needs to learn how to win.” Walking out of the kitchen, he added, “Nobody ever gave me anything. I earned every win.”

  Alexis wiped the chocolate off the floor. She wanted to be mad at Michael, but he was right about being a winner. Before she met him, her life had been a disaster, so she’d always taken his lead on what their children needed in order to be successful in life. Summer camps and extracurricular classes were all approved by Michael because he was the one who had the structure growing up.

  Michael had given them a good life, so if he thought babying Ethan would stop him from becoming the winner he was meant to be, then she wouldn’t rush up those stairs and wrap her son in her arms, even though she really, really wanted to. She wanted to give Ethan one of these chocolate cookie thingies and tell him how sorry she was for the way the race turned out.

  She finished her meal, then made a pizza for the kids. When the servers arrived, she let them into the kitchen and provided instructions on how she wanted everything plated and brought out to the guests. Honestly, she would rather plate and serve the guests herself, but Michael wanted to project a certain image at this dinner party. His wife could not serve the food or it would appear as if they couldn’t afford people to do that job for them.

  The house was spotless because the maid service had spent six hours cleaning yesterday, giving the house its monthly deep clean. She always used A-1 Cleaning. Michael was impressed with how well they cleaned the house. If Alexis told him that she had helped the owner start her cleaning business after referring her to a psychiatrist who got her on the right medication for the illness that had stopped her from being able to keep a steady job, he would have gone through the roof.

  In truth, Alexis would rather stay in the kitchen cooking and cleaning while Michael and Peter entertained. She just didn’t have much in common with Nora Foster or Deidre Delaney. They were both high-powered businesswomen, climbing the ladder of success. She had been so nervous when Michael introduced her to them, though they had been nice to her.

  “I hope you didn’t go out of your way with dinner preparations. I would hate to interrupt your routine,” Nora said while shaking Alexis’s hand once she had arrived.

  “No trouble at all. It’s normally just me and the kids when Michael is working late, so it’s nice having company.”

  They sat in the living room making small talk while the servers set the dining table. Alexis liked these businesswomen because they didn’t go out of their way to make her feel less than because she was a housewife without a college degree. They made her feel at ease, and the conversation wasn’t all business. Nora spent time catching up with Michael and Peter about their college days, while Deidre seemed genuinely interested in Alexis and the kids.

  The ladies seemed to enjoy what she had to say. Deidre even told her, “The older I get, the more I appreciate that my mother was home to greet me when I arrived home from school.”

  “You don’t have to say that.” Alexis turned her head as her shoulders slumped and her eyes glanced toward the kitchen.

  “I mean it,” Deidre said. “My mom and I were really close when I was a child. Even today, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

  Beaming with a bit of pride, Alexis said, “Thank you for saying that. It is important to me that I’m here for my kids while they’re still young.”

  “It’s commendable,” Nora said, then turned back to Michael and Peter. “My mom sent me to college to find a husband. She never expected that I would choose corporate America instead.”

  Michael laughed. “Your mom got more than her money’s worth, because you are kicking butt.”

  “That’s funny. My mother never expected me to get married,” Deidre added with a grin. “Never know, I just might surprise her with a grandchild one day.”

  The servers put their plates on the dining room table and the group sat down for dinner. “Oh, Alexis, you outdid yourself,” Nora said while cutting into her steak.

  “And lobster too?” Peter gave Alexis the thumbs up. “I may need to come over for dinner more often.”

  Silence fell over the room as the group dug into their meal. Then Nora snapped her fingers. “Whatever happened to . . . ?” Snapping her fingers again, she looked at Peter and then back at Michael. “You guys were always together. Always working on the next big thing. I thought he was your roommate.”

  Solemnly, Peter said, “Kevin. His name was Kevin Jones. He died in a car crash a couple of years after we graduated from college.”

  Putting her hand to her chest, Nora gasped. “Oh, how terrible. He was such a genius.”

  The servers came out of the kitchen with trays of the chocolate-cookie crunch trifle. Alexis started to second-guess herself. Or maybe she was third-guessing herself since she passed on the red velvet cake in favor of this chocolate treat. Now she was wondering if these high-powered women might think the crumbled Oreos was too juvenile to be elegant.

  Michael was counting on her. She hoped that she hadn’t let him down. The moment the dessert was placed in front of each dinner guest, they picked up their spoon and dug in.

  Alexis held her breath until she heard the sounds of mmm and yummy.

  Michael’s eyes met hers. He was smiling. She smiled back.

  “This is so good, Alexis. Where on earth did you order these from?” Nora asked.

  “I ordered a red velvet cake from our local bakery, but I thought you ladies might enjoy something a bit more fun. So I made this dessert that my mom used to make for me when I was a kid.”

  “Wow, so your mom is perfect too.” Deidre dug her spoon back into her pudding and put a heaping helping in her mouth.

  She wished she could tell the truth—that Vivian hadn’t been perfect, but she loved her anyway. The truth was that when they got married, Michael’s one and only demand had been that she keep her past a secret. Her past had not been perfect, and Michael was uncomfortable with that. The night was going so well and Michael was smiling, so she didn’t want to do anything to take away from the success her husband had earned.

  She would smile at him and let everyone think that life was uncomplicated. Tomorrow, though, he would be picking the kids up from school because she was going to take her mother a chocolate-cookie crunch trifle and make another good memory with her.

  Chapter 9

  Trish woke refreshed, revived, and renewed with a mind to press on. She got out of bed, turned on her praise music, and started fiddling around the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot. She cut up some onions, celery, and carrots and put them in her crockpot with a pork tenderloin. She would later put on her pot of rice with some green beans and that would be dinner.

  Since Jon-Jon’s bedroom was so close, she could hear him snoring. No use fixing breakfast yet. It was 7:00 a.m., which was early for some, but not for Sister. Her mother was up by five in the morning, praying, and then watching the news or a preacher via cable television. Trish’s cell phone was in her room, so she went and picked up her phone, and called her mother.

  “Good morning, Mother! I wouldn’t have called so early except I know you are an early bird.”

  “You got that right. I just finished my prayers, fixed your father’s breakfast, and packed his lunch. Now I’m getting ready to watch the news and see what’s going on in this big ole city.”

  Trish heard the television blasting in the background. “Give Daddy a kiss for me. Tell him I’ll be over for a visit one day soon.” Her father worked twelve-hour shifts four days a week, so when he wasn’t at work, he lounged at home, refusing to lift a finger. Her mother put up with it because Daddy worked those twelve-hour shifts. Trish wished he’d come visit her and Jon-Jon more, but she understood. Maybe she’d see if Jon-Jon wanted to visit his grandfather.

  “He’s already out the door, but I’ll tell him you asked about him. He’d love to hear from you more.”

  Trish had been Daddy’s little girl when she was younger. When her father came home from work, he would go into his room where he hid his stash of Sour Patch Kids, which was absolutely Trish’s favorite candy in the world. Her mother didn’t like her eating the candy, so Daddy had to dole the treats in small servings or Sister would not be happy.

  When he came out of his room, he’d say, “Where’s my little sugar patch?” He wouldn’t call her sour patch, like the name of the candy, because her daddy said she was too sweet to be sour.

  Trish would come running to receive a few pieces of her beloved candy.

  She missed those days because Albert Thornton seemed to get her like no other man on earth. However, as the years kept coming and she and Dwayne started their own family, her father seemed to distance himself. One day, Trish planned to ask her daddy about that.

  “Mom, I called to thank you for your visit the other day. I know I wasn’t all that pleasant to be around, but your words helped.”

  “Praise the Lord for that. I’m just glad I could be of service to you, daughter.”

  “Oh, you were. You allowing me the time to take a hot bath made all the difference. I felt like I could think clearer when I got out of the tub, but it took an extra day before I did what you told me.”

  “My word, what is becoming of these young people out in these streets. Help ’em, Jesus.”

  “Did you hear what I said, Mama?”

  “I’m sorry, Trish. This news is just so disturbing. Young kids constantly killing each other. I just don’t know what has become of this city. It used to be such a peaceful place.”

  “I’m just thankful that Jon-Jon didn’t hang around kids who were always getting into trouble,” Trish said.

  “Jon-Jon is a good kid,” Sister agreed. “You and Dwayne raised him right.”

  Crime had exploded in the lower income neighborhoods of Charlotte about fifteen or so years ago. Trish and Dwayne saved up enough to move to the southwest side of Charlotte ten years back, when several developers began building nice, affordable homes on that side of Charlotte. She had never imagined being able to get a $230,000 mortgage. However, with her salary as a teacher and Dwayne’s salary at the factory, they were able to afford it.

  Things were tight now, so Trish prayed they wouldn’t have to move back into a watch-your-back kind of environment. But then she wondered who was watching the kids’ backs who were living their day-to-day lives in crime-infested neighborhoods, and admonished herself to pray for those kids.

  “I am thankful that Dwayne and I were able to provide a better way of life for Jon-Jon, although he ended up hurt anyway with that woman plowing into him the way she did.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that the woman who hit Jon-Jon was distracted? Picking up her phone or something that fell?”

  “It was her phone. At least that’s what the police officer told us. I’ve never actually spoken to Ms. Marshall. I would really like to know why it was so important to reach for her phone when she should have been keeping her eyes on the road.”

  “Wait a minute.” Sister redirected the conversation. “You asked if I heard what you said earlier. What did you call to tell me?”

  “I just wanted to thank you. I know I’ve been giving you a hard time, but I prayed as you told me to do. I asked God to turn all this bad we’ve been experiencing into something good, and this morning I actually felt like getting out of bed. I’m getting ready to cook Jon-Jon some breakfast, and I truly feel good this morning.”

  “Don’t forget Dwayne.”

  Trish’s forehead crinkled. “What about Dwayne?”

  “Breakfast—don’t forget to fix your husband some breakfast.”

  She said she felt good, but that didn’t mean she was rushing to do Dwayne any favors. That man was still on her list, and she wasn’t going to let her mother make her feel guilty about that.

  “Let me get going,” Trish said. “I’ve got to get Jon-Jon cleaned up before I start breakfast.”

  She opened her bedroom door and headed next door to get Jon-Jon out of bed. She was surprised to find that her son’s bedroom door was open and his bed was empty. She hadn’t even heard any commotion in his room while she was on the phone with her mother.

  Dwayne came out of the bathroom and was headed back to Jon-Jon’s room with a towel slung over his shoulder. He must have noticed her questioning gaze because he said, “I smelled the crockpot. Figured since you were busy with the food, I’d help Jon-Jon with the shower.” Pointing toward the bathroom, he said, “He’s showering now. I forgot his pajamas.”

  “Oh, okay,” was all she could say. Then, as Dwayne headed back to the bathroom, she called after him, “Would you like an egg and bacon sandwich for breakfast?”

  “Perfect,” he said over his shoulder as he went back into the bathroom with Jon-Jon.

  What was going on here? Was she living in an alternate reality where her husband was suddenly the chief of doing stuff? She threw her hands up as she walked back into the kitchen. She had prayed for something good to happen to this family, and if Dwayne was being nice, she wasn’t going to be petty. She would fix his breakfast just as she’d always done.

  She cooked breakfast for her men, then cleaned Jon-Jon’s room. Dwayne left for work.

  After praying about it, she realized that Dwayne wasn’t being all that unreasonable by wanting her to work part-time. She wished she could do substitute teaching or teach at a night school. Anything to bring in some extra money. But she didn’t have anyone who could sit with Jon-Jon on a regular basis. If she was being honest with herself, taking care of her son all day, every day was wearing her down. She hadn’t felt tired all the time when she was working full-time. Something had to give, but she didn’t know how to let go. She would add that to her prayers.

  “How’s your morning going, son?” she asked while vacuuming his room.

  “Not as good as yours.”

  She didn’t like the way that sounded. Was Jon-Jon drifting further into depression? Had the argument she had with Dwayne the day before sent her son over the edge? Turning off the vacuum, she turned to face him. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad night? Is it something I did? Are you still in pain? I meant to give you another pain pill last night.”

  Lifting his hands, he said, “Calm down, Mom. I’m good. You just look like you had a good night’s sleep or something.”

  Relax . . . relax. He’s okay . . . Breathe. “I did sleep well. I’m trying to stress less. So do your mom a favor and smile for me every now and then.”

  He gave her an I’m-not-really-into-this smile. “Look, Mom, I know you’re worried about me. And I’m really sorry that what I told Dr. Phillips hurt you, but I don’t know what to do. I’m stuck in this bed. I can’t even go to the bathroom unless you or Dad help me.”

  “You’ve got to have faith, Jon-Jon. I believe you’ll walk again, but you have to believe it also. Can you do that for me, son? No. No, not for me. Can you do it for yourself?”

  The phone rang. Trish held up a finger. “I’ll be back so we can finish this conversation.”

  Rushing into the kitchen, Trish took the house phone off the charger base. “Hello?”