The income from the new job Lisa would start in two months would allow her and John to afford to purchase this house from her father. She had to talk to John, but she was sure he would be on board. “Let me buy the house from you, Daddy. I’m getting a new job, so John and I will be able to afford it.”

  “This house really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

  Lisa looked around. Every room held a memory she never wanted to forget. No one could have prepared her for how her heart would ache for Brenda Whitaker every single day. But when she was in this house, it was as if she felt her mother’s presence. “It does, Daddy. It really does.”

  Chapter 11

  Dana spent four years in prison paying a debt she didn’t owe. When she got out of prison, her mother was in worse shape than she’d been in when Dana was sent away.

  “You can’t stay here, baby,” Vida said as they sat in the bedroom she was renting from a couple.

  “What? Why not?” Dana didn’t have anywhere else to go. She had $300 to her name, thanks to her monthly pay from Rikers Island. She could buy her own food while she looked for a job, but she sure couldn’t pay rent with so little money.

  “My landlord says she only rented this room to me. And if you don’t leave, then I’ve got to go.”

  “What am I supposed to do, Ma? I’ve only been out of jail two days. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  Vida didn’t respond. She jumped up and pulled a tote from the side of her dresser. “Look what I kept for you. I’ve taken this tote with me no matter where I’ve moved.”

  Dana opened the lid and looked inside. Her clothes and shoes were packed inside. “I can’t believe you kept this stuff.”

  She looked through the things and noticed there was a case with film in it, but her camera was gone. Of course it was gone.

  Vida patted Dana on the arm, then said again, “You can’t stay.”

  Realizing yet again she couldn’t count on her mother, Dana packed the things Vida had saved for her and caught the train to Flatbush. Once there, she walked to her friend Yolanda’s place.

  “Thanks for letting me crash with you, Yolanda.”

  “I got you. Us felons have to stick together,” Yolanda said as she showed Dana around the small two-bedroom apartment.

  Dana had shared a prison cell with Yolanda Pierce for two years. Yolanda had been released six months ago and was now in need of a roommate.

  Dana set her bag of clothes in her bedroom and then walked the block, putting in applications. She wouldn’t be able to stay with Yolanda forever. She needed to get some money in her pocket so she could get a place of her own.

  She stopped in a corner store and asked, “Are you hiring?”

  The manager handed her an application. “We are. One of my best workers took another job. How soon would you be able to start?”

  “I’m available immediately,” Dana said, feeling excited about being in the right place at the right time. She took out her pen and started filling out the application. It wasn’t until she reached the part that asked if she had a felony record that she began to doubt herself. She marked yes to the felony, then wrote below it, “I’d love a chance to explain.” Even though she really didn’t know how to explain a robbery charge.

  Dana then went into a local pharmacy. She wondered whether the film from her old camera was still any good. She hoped she wasn’t wasting her money, but she had to take the chance. Those were her memories, and she wanted them. She desperately needed to see something good and beautiful about this world. She handed the film over to the clerk at the photo station, then asked, “Are y’all hiring?”

  The clerk pointed to the back of the pharmacy. “You might want to ask my manager. He’s behind the pharmacy counter today.”

  Dana started walking toward the back of the store. The clerk stopped her. “Do you want double or single photos?”

  Doubles probably cost more. “Single is fine.” She then found the manager and put in an application. But no matter how many applications she put in, the felony question kept rearing its ugly head.

  Dana had spent several months putting in applications but not receiving any callbacks. Dana knew she would have to do something different. So she signed up for cosmetology school and finally found a job as a waitress.

  After cosmetology school, the struggle was still real, so after thinking long and hard about it, Dana decided to do something drastic to change her circumstances.

  She’d been able to convince a landlord to rent her a building to open a hair salon. Dana had worked the business for eight years, trying to make a success of it. But the rent on the building and the credit card bills to purchase equipment for the salon became too much for her.

  She turned the keys into the bank in 1999 and spent the rest of the year planning and implementing her next move. The coming new millennium had given her the courage she needed to try something new. While she had her salon, Dana had experimented with her own brand of hair-care products. She developed a shampoo, conditioner, and hair-growing grease, and they worked. So Dana used the money she earned from selling off the inventory and furniture in her salon before it closed down to purchase the supplies needed to brand her own hair-care line: jars, lids, labels, a computer, and the ingredients needed for the shampoo, conditioner, and hair grease. Then she wore out several pairs of shoes walking the blocks, introducing herself to salon owners. She even knocked on doors and gave out samples of her hair grease to parents who had little girls whose hair would dry out and stop growing without the right hair grease.

  Dana had business cards made up, and soon she was receiving orders for her products. Business had gotten so good she now needed to hire help, but it wasn’t good enough for her to be able to afford the help.

  Today Dana pulled a cart up and down numerous blocks as she delivered her products.

  “Thank you so much for your order, Ms. Green. I have your full set here.” A full set consisted of shampoo, conditioner, and hair grease. Dana handed the set to Ms. Green. She had three granddaughters, and she made sure their hair was washed, greased, and braided every week.

  “Thanks, girl. I’ve been waiting for this.”

  “I appreciate your business. Give me a call when you run out.”

  Dana left one doorstep and went to the next. She knocked on Dave Barley’s door. He was a widower with a seven-year-old daughter. “Hi, Dave, thanks so much for your order.” Dana handed him his full set.

  But Dave pushed the bag back toward her. “I love your products, Dana, but I ordered the full set three weeks ago. When I didn’t receive it, I went to the hair store.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Dave. It’s just me right now, so it takes me a while to fill all of my orders.” She handed the bag back to him. “You have been a good customer, so please take this set with my apologies.”

  She walked away with her head hanging low. Her customers expected delivery of their products fast, but she was mixing the products in her kitchen and bottling everything herself, so she couldn’t fill orders as fast as her customers would like. She needed to get help soon, or she would lose more customers.

  Dana walked into Beauty, one of the premiere hair salons in Brooklyn.

  “Hey, Dana, I hope you brought a few extra jars of hair grease. My clients love it,” Sheri Williams, the hairdresser and owner of Beauty, said.

  Dana lifted a box out of her cart and handed it to Sheri. “I told you I would bring more in two weeks. I wish I could deliver faster.” Pointing toward the box, Dana said, “This is your whole order. Three shampoos, three conditioners, and ten jars of hair grease.”

  Sheri was combing her client’s hair. She put the comb down and pulled some money out of her pocket and handed it to Dana. “My brother will be here in a minute. I told him about you, and he wants to meet you.”

  Dana waved a hand in front of her face. “I’m not trying to date anyone right now. I’m too busy trying to get my business off the ground.” And the fact she did prison time for dealing with a guy who promised her the moon but in the end died in her arms, leaving her to suffer the consequences of his actions, had a lot to do with those dateless nights.

  Dana was still traumatized by a relationship that ended when she was a fresh-out-of-high-school didn’t-know-what-to-do-with-her-life eighteen-year-old. Since starting her new life in Flatbush, she’d been out with only three guys. Two were total duds, but she was willing to admit she messed up with one of the guys. She kept thinking he was going to be like Derrick. No, thank you.

  Sheri laughed at her. “Dang, girl, who scared you off of men?”

  “I’m not scared of men. I’m not dating right now.”

  The door to the salon opened. A man with a scrumptious almond skin tone, goatee, and bald head, wearing an I’m-about-my-business blue pinstripe suit, stepped in. Sheri waved him toward her, then she nudged Dana and said, “That’s my brother. And I didn’t ask him here for a hook-up. I think he can help with your business.”

  “I don’t need help,” Dana declared.

  “Oh really? So why are you still knocking on doors and bringing your supplies to salons?”

  Dana had been facing Sheri when her brother made his comment. She swung around, hands on hips. “And what do you know about my business?”

  He stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Jeff Williams, and my sister gave me your business card.”

  Dana ignored his hand. He pulled her business card out of his jacket pocket and showed it to her. Dana turned to Sheri. “Why you give him my business card?”

  “Chill out, Dana. Give Jeff a few minutes of your time. I really think he can help you.”

  Dana turned back to Jeff. She didn’t understand why this man wanted to help her with her business. He didn’t know her—they weren’t friends. She hadn’t asked for his help and didn’t even know what kind of help he could offer.

  But she did know Sheri. Dana had been selling her products at this salon for a year now. Sheri seemed like a nice person, and she was supportive of Dana’s business. She didn’t want to offend her customer, so she glanced at her watch, then told Jeff, “I have a few minutes before my next appointment.”

  “Great. Let’s talk about it over lunch.”

  Dana stepped back. “You don’t have to spend your money on me. Tell me what you’re about, and then I can be on my way.”

  “I don’t have reservations or anything. I was thinking we could grab a hero at the sub shop down the street.”

  Dana felt silly. This man was trying to talk to her about business, and she was acting like he wanted a date. She smiled. “Okay, but I’ll purchase my own sandwich.”

  Jeff lifted his hands. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.”

  Dana liked the sound of his voice, but she was her own hero, and she could buy her own sandwich. She walked out of the salon with him and went down the street to the sub shop. They purchased their sandwiches, then sat down at a table in the back.

  “So what exactly do you do, Mr. Williams?”

  He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, then said, “I finance small businesses for people like you. My goal in life is to see young and gifted people succeed. I help by providing the finances needed to take businesses to the next level.”

  “So you’re the moneyman, huh? And what do people like me have to do to get our hands on this money?”

  Jeff put a hand to his chest. Shook his head. “I make a good living, but I certainly don’t have enough money to fund businesses. I’m more like the middleman. I help my clients find the right lender to fund their business.”

  Dana leaned back in her seat. She squinted as she tried to size Jeff up. Was he truly a man of the people, out to help small businesses in the community, or was he a snake in the grass?

  Dana did need to partner with a bank so she could manufacture enough of her products to be able to court Walmart and beauty-supply stores.

  But what bank would do business with her once they discovered her first business went belly-up and she couldn’t even pay the rent on her salon? But then she remembered the loss of her business and salon was not listed on her credit report. Maybe things would be different if she was able to receive a business loan. She had to try, right?

  “Look, Mr. Williams—”

  “Jeff. Every time you say Mr. Williams, I want to look around for my daddy.” He smiled at her.

  She laughed. Conceded. “Okay, Jeff. I’m not sure what your lenders require to process a loan, but I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t have much credit. Only one credit card, which is maxed out.”

  “I work with lenders who are sympathetic to the struggles in our community. Most of my clients didn’t have perfect credit files at the time they needed to expand their businesses. But if you have records showing consistent earnings with your hair-care products, I should be able to find a lender for you.”

  The man sitting in front of her exuded confidence as he leaned back in his chair and finished off his hero. Dana wanted to be confident, but too many things had gone wrong in her life for her to ever be confident something was about to go right.

  She wondered whether she should disclose her background to Jeff. Was it right to ask him to do this for her without knowing who he was doing business with? But there was nothing of her past she wanted to share. Nothing she cared to remember.

  What if this guy was for real? What if he could get her the money needed to ensure her business thrived, rather than crashing like the salon business had done?

  “So what information do you need in order to make money appear in my bank account?”

  Chapter 12

  One of Praise Ministries’ outreach initiatives was with a homeless shelter in downtown Brooklyn. They collected toiletries and food, then took the items to the homeless shelter once a quarter. Lisa was on the committee, so she and Sister Betty, the church secretary, delivered the items the church collected and then volunteered at the shelter the same day.

  Today the manager for the shelter asked them to make the beds. “The bed sets have been cleaned. You’ll find them in a rollaway bin next to the bathroom,” she said.

  There were thirty beds at the shelter. With the way rent and mortgage prices had gone up over the years, the homeless population in Brooklyn had skyrocketed. Thirty beds were hardly enough to solve the homeless issue they were dealing with, but it wasn’t nothing. Especially since the whole goal at this shelter was to make the guests feel at home, even though their bed was six feet away from the next guest.

  Lisa pushed the bin into the main room where the mattresses were already laid out on the floor. There were five beds in each row. “I’ll start at the first row. If you take the next row, we can have these beds made in no time.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Sister Betty said. Then they got to work.

  Lisa put a twin fitted sheet, flat sheet, and blanket on each mattress. Each bed had one pillow and pillowcase. When she was done making each bed, she set on top a tote bag full of toiletries and on-the-go food items like peanut-butter crackers, candy bars, juice boxes, bottled water, chips, and canned meat with pop-tops.

  “How is Kennedy?” Sister Betty asked.

  “Growing faster than I can keep up.” Lisa started on the next bed.

  “It’s amazing how that happens.” Betty put the fitted sheet on the bed. “One day they’re looking up at you with those big trusting eyes, and the next they’re taller and meaner than you ever expected them to be.”

  Lisa laughed. “Stop it, Betty. Your daughter is a sweetheart.”

  “She’s twenty-seven now, but when my child was sixteen, I had to talk myself out of running away from home on several occasions.”

  “Well, I pray Kennedy keeps a level head.”

  “You did. Your mother would be so proud to see you now . . . taking over her responsibilities with the homeless shelter and all.”

  They continued dressing the mattresses, then stayed and helped fix plates for the people as they arrived at the shelter. The whole time, Lisa kept thinking of her mother, wishing they could have this experience together.

  As they were walking to their cars after helping the other volunteers clean the tables once the guests had finished with their meal, Betty said, “Did you hear about Councilman Brown?”

  Lisa had worked on the campaign to get their councilman elected. She thought he would do great things for their community, but he’d been in office for three years and hadn’t done anything to help Bed-Stuy. “I don’t keep in touch with Councilman Brown anymore.”

  “Watch the news tonight. He’s being investigated for misappropriation of funds.”

  Somehow, Lisa wasn’t surprised. Councilman Brown was shady, and she had made a mistake backing him.

  * * *

  Dana went into her kitchen and pulled out her soup pots and her double boiler. She then put all the ingredients needed for her products on the counter. To make her shampoo, she combined organic castile liquid soap, organic aloe vera gel, and sunflower oil, along with rosemary oil and lavender oil. She set the pot on the counter and used a long-handled spoon to thoroughly mix all the ingredients together.

  Her doorbell rang. She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and let Jeff in. He’d told her he wanted to see how she made her products so he could have a better idea how to market her to potential investors.

  “Look at you,” Dana said as Jeff stepped into her living room. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a baby-blue polo shirt underneath his winter coat. “I would have thought you’d be in a stuffy old business suit.”

  “Since it’s Saturday afternoon and I’m working overtime, I figured you wouldn’t mind if I dressed comfortably, especially since I brought”—he lifted the bag in his hand—“Shrimp fried rice.”

  Dana smiled. “Did you bring egg rolls?”

  Jeff reached in the bag and pulled out the egg rolls. “Would I show up with Chinese food without the egg rolls?”