A Second Helping Read online

  They rolled past the old Henry Adams Hotel that had once been a town gem, and pulled into the newly paved parking lot of the D&C. Last summer when Bernadine got her first look at the diner, it had been a listing, tarp-covered dive. Its red leather booths had been patched with silver duct tape, the ceiling had holes, and only a few of the bare bulbs hanging from the rafters worked. Now it was new again and the interior had a sleek retro design. Its custom-made jukebox, refurbished red booths, and dark wood dining counter gave the place style again. The kitchen was top-of-the-line, chef-certified, and the diner had its own router, thus allowing the D&C to function as a wi-fi café as well.

  Because it had once served as the hub of the community, everyone wanted it to become that again, but it wouldn’t happen if folks had issues with the new chef and the chef with them. Oh, to be back in Barcelona with its warm weather and no problems, she thought wistfully. Bringing her mind back to the present, she focused on the empty interior of the D&C. It was Monday, ten in the morning. The place should have been bustling with locals and the workers from the town’s various construction sites, but there wasn’t a soul inside. She didn’t even see the waitstaff.

  “Where’s everybody?”

  Mal shrugged. “Probably taking her suggestion to eat somewhere else.”

  “That’s not going to work.”

  “No kidding.” She and Malachi also envisioned the diner as a profit-making establishment, but that wouldn’t happen either if they couldn’t put fannies in the booths. Although Malachi was the owner, she was the one paying the freight, including the salaries of the help until the place could pay for itself. With that in mind, she headed for the kitchen, hoping they could talk some sense into Florene so she wouldn’t have to be replaced.

  Florene was seated on a tall stool at one of the counters, writing on a pad. She was dressed in chef whites. Her light brown face appeared younger than her nineteen years and she had her auburn-tinted hair pulled back in a tail that she’d twisted into a bun. At their entrance she glanced up and set the pen aside.

  “Welcome back, Ms. Brown. Did you have a good time in Spain?”

  “I did. How are you?”

  “I’d be better if the people around here wanted to eat something besides grits and pork chops,” she declared, and glared at Malachi.

  Bernadine ignored the bad attitude, for the moment. “I hear there’s been a few bumps.”

  “Not from me. It’s him and the rest of these country-time folk.”

  “Why are you serving green beans for breakfast?” Bernadine asked pleasantly.

  “It’s novel. Anybody can cook eggs. I want to be known as adventurous, eclectic—a chef that doesn’t follow the trends.”

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Bernadine explained as gently as she could. “But this is a diner in Kansas, Florene, not a bistro in L.A.”

  “So I should waste my skills?”

  Bernadine sighed. Lord knew she didn’t want to break the young woman’s spirit. “Honey, there will be a time and a place for you and your skills. Right now you’re in a community college culinary program and we need you to prepare what your diners want to eat. I don’t mind you introducing new dishes. In fact, I’m encouraging you to do so. But on a Saturday morning, folks here want waffles, pancakes, and eggs.”

  “Then they want another chef.”

  Bernadine studied her for a moment. “Then you’re quitting?”

  “No. I want to be allowed to run my kitchen as I see fit.”

  “Then you’re quitting,” Mal said. “I’ll send an e-mail to your professor. You’re a good cook and I’ll tell her that, but you can’t be hardheaded and work for me.”

  “But—”

  “When you get your kitchen you can deal the deck,” he added pointedly. “I’ll put your last check in the mail. Thank you for your service to Henry Adams, Florene.”

  “You can’t just fire me!”

  But Bernadine wasn’t about to spend the morning listening to a child whose opinion of herself was off the charts, so she said to Malachi, “Will you see to it that Florene gets all of her personal belongings?”

  “Yep. Make sure she hands over my keys too,” he added.

  “Good.” And with that said, Bernadine made her exit and added Help find a new cook to her mental list of things to do.

  The locals called the short, squat, fire-red building where Bernadine worked the Power Plant. Although it had nothing to do with physical power like electricity or wind, it had everything to do with the fact that her office was housed inside. She was the town’s engine, the conduit. Nothing happened in town she didn’t have a hand in, and because she was the owner with the money to back it up, very few people stood in her way.

  She pulled open the heavy metal door and went inside. Shaking off the shivers left by the cold April morning, she walked down the silent hall toward her office. Sunlight poured through the glass atrium roof overhead and through the sparkling clear windows that were partially submerged below ground. The light filled her path to her office and the large leaves of the healthy green plants lining the way.

  Much of the flat-topped, circular building was underground. The design made the facility green and would hopefully keep it from becoming a tornado snack.

  The mayor’s office was across the hall from her own. It had been almost finished when she left for Barcelona. She wondered if the work had been completed. Walking over, she stuck her master key into the lock and stepped inside.

  The carpet was covered by a tarp and there were large, shrink-wrapped boxes stacked throughout the expansive, white-walled suite. When Bernadine first came to Henry Adams, she hadn’t known a wall-bearing beam from a sump pump, but now, after a year of rubbing elbows with contractors and the like, she viewed the interior with knowledgeable eyes. Wall plates for the electrical plugs were on. The covers for the air and heat ducts were in place as well. She took note of small details like the caulking on the windows, and that there were knobs on the doors. She hit a light switch. On came the recessed lighting above her head and a ceiling fan. Turning them off, she looked around the space again. Unless there was a problem she couldn’t see, the place looked ready to be occupied.

  On the other hand, Bernadine’s suite of offices had been the first one completed. The stylishly furnished outer office, done in the earth colors she preferred, held chairs and a few loveseats to accommodate folks waiting to see her. The inner sanctum was where she worked.

  Entering it now, she took one look at the mountain of mail covering her desk and wanted to call Katie Skye, have her refuel the jet and fly her back to Barcelona. She couldn’t believe how much mail there was. She was still eyeing the pile when her BlackBerry sounded. It was Lily.

  “How much mail do you have?” Lily asked.

  “Enough to start my own country.”

  Lily laughed softly. “You want me to come in and help?”

  “No. One of us should get to enjoy the day. You wait for Devon and I’ll get this mess sorted out.”

  “You sure? You’re making me feel guilty.”

  “Good, then my work is done.”

  They both laughed, and Bernadine said, “I’ll see you later. Let me know when everyone gets home.”

  “Okay. I—”

  “Did you fire her?”

  The interrupting voice made Bernadine look up to see Amari standing in the doorway. “Hold on a minute, Lily.”

  She said to him, “Don’t you see me on the phone?”

  He looked down at his shoes. “Sorry.”

  Bernadine spent a few more moments talking with Lily before ending the call. “Now, what can I do for you, Amari?” She stashed her Hermès bag in the bottom drawer of her desk and hung her coat on the coat tree nearby.

  “First off, welcome home.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And second. Did you fire her?”

  “No. She quit.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Bernadine hid her grin. “Anythin
g else?”

  “Yeah. How long do I have to wait before my dad can legally adopt me?”

  She studied him for a moment. “Why?”

  “I think I’m ready to be a July.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.” There was pride all over his face.

  “Have you and Trent discussed this?”

  “Nope. Wanted to talk to you first, and then Tamar.”

  “I see. Well, talk to Tamar and then all of us will get together.”

  “Okay.”

  “Did you enjoy your vacation?”

  “I did. Never went hunting or fishing before. Like the fishing part. Not the hunting. Seen enough shooting. Dad tried to tell me it was different, but the only difference seemed to be that the stuff dying wasn’t shooting back.”

  Bernadine also hailed from Detroit. Granted, she and Amari had grown up at different times and the city had been safer during her residency, but she understood his aversion. “Trent was okay with you not wanting to hunt?”

  “He was. You know, he’s real cool. He’s the kinda dad kids like me always imagine having, till you get too old, and realize it ain’t never gonna happen.”

  The confession tugged at her heart. “But it has happened,” she countered softly.

  “Yeah, it has. Got me an O.G. too.” In the vernacular of the kids of the day, O.G. stood for Original Gangster but Amari used it as a term of endearment. Trent often teased that O.G. stood for Old Geezer.

  “And Tamar?”

  “Tamar’s pretty great too, unless you make her mad.”

  “Sometimes you don’t get a second helping of life, Amari, but you have.”

  “I know. Barely had a first helping, so this ain’t bad, at all.”

  She smiled. “I missed you.”

  He squirmed like an eleven-year-old male. “Ah, Ms. Bernadine.”

  “I did, Amari.”

  He looked her in the eyes and admitted, “Missed you too. Guess this is what family’s about, huh?”

  “Guess so.”

  Showing her his grin, he gave her a wave and left.

  Chuckling, Bernadine started in on the mail.

  As Amari climbed onto his bike and pedaled off to the rec to shoot some hoops, he wasn’t sure what Tamar would think of his plans, but he knew her vote could make or break him. Even though she could be tough, he got the impression that she liked him. Hadn’t she let him live after he stole Malachi’s truck last summer? In fact, she hadn’t said much at all about the incident. Which in a way sort of worried him because it would be just like her to be saving up the lecture so she could bring it up sometime in the future. All that aside, she was the most important person he needed to talk with about becoming a real, permanent member of the family, and there was no way getting around it. Without her approval, he might as well start packing for his next stop.

  In Cleveland, Ohio, Ray Chambers was standing in line at Happy Hour Liquor to pay for a bottle of wine when an old acquaintance walked into the store. “Hey, Walt!” he called out. “That you?”

  Walt Hurley stopped. When he recognized Ray, his face split into a wide grin. “Ray Chambers?”

  Walt walked over and the two shared a quick grip. “Been a long time. You here visiting?”

  “No. I’m back in town,” Ray said, holding his place in line. “At least for a little while.”

  They spent a few moments catching up and then Ray asked, “When was the last time you saw Nikki?” She was Ray’s ex and Walt’s baby sister.

  The people in line ahead of Ray moved up as customers paid for their purchases and departed.

  “Not in a while, man,” Walt answered, sadness in his voice. “That crack got her, and she wound up in the joint in Illinois. Got HIV too. My sister Jean went to see her a few months ago. Said she doubted Nikki would make it to the summer.”

  “That’s rough. Sorry to hear it. She and I didn’t get along at the end, but I wouldn’t wish nothing like AIDS on her. That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah, but she told Jean she was going to die happy because she got to see her daughter Crystal back in the fall.”

  “Crystal? My baby girl?”

  “Yeah. Nikki told Jean that Crystal was set for life. Got some high-class, rich sister as her foster mother now.”

  “Really? Did Jean say where they lived? CPS took Crystal from me and Nikki when she was little. Haven’t seen her since.”

  “Jean said something about Kansas.”

  “Kansas?”

  By then Ray was at the cashier. He handed the kid behind the glass a twenty, and asked for five Easy Picks for the big Lotto draw tomorrow night. He turned back to Walt. “You think if I called Jean she might be able to tell me something more? Be nice to see Crystal. Let her know her daddy’s been thinking about her all these years.”

  Walt shrugged. “I don’t know, man.”

  The clerk handed Ray his change, the bagged wine, and the Lotto tickets. Ray reached in his pocket and took out a business card. “Here, give her this.”

  Walt grinned. “Look at you. Business cards.”

  “Yeah. Own a cleaning company. Doing pretty good too.”

  “Okay. No guarantee she’ll call you, though. You know how she felt about you when you and Nikki were together.”

  “Tell her I’ve changed. Go to church now and everything.”

  “You in church? Hell must be freezing over.”

  They laughed, and after another short talk about back in the day, they promised to stay in touch and parted ways.

  As Ray headed up the street to his apartment, he smiled. So his daughter Crystal was living large. He liked the sound of that, and would like it even more once he found out where they were. Yeah, Ray had changed, but only because he’d grown too old to pimp. Life had reduced him to a gigolo and he trolled for victims in the Black churches where he had his pick of lonely, single Black females with good jobs eager to pay his bills in exchange for his affections. Yeah, he’d changed, but as in nature, a leopard never changes his spots.

  CHAPTER 3

  Most of the mail on Bernadine’s desk pertained to the new school. Before going on vacation, Lily had e-mailed some requests for info on textbooks and other educational equipment. Apparently word had spread because in response Bernadine was looking at enough un-solicited catalogs to supply a school district the size of New York City’s. Some specialized in school uniforms, others featured desks. There were big fat ones devoted to science labs. Five had glossy pictures of gym equipment, and in another stack were piled the ones pertaining to textbooks and teacher supplies.

  By the time she opened the catalogs selling school buses, her head was spinning. A knock on her open door caused her to look up. Mayor Trent July stood on the threshold. She could’ve kissed him for offering her a distraction. “God, I’m glad to see you. All this mail’s about to give me a stroke.”

  Meeting her greeting with a smile reminiscent of his father, he took a look at her piled-high desk and cracked, “Welcome back.”

  “Yeah right,” she tossed back in response to his obvious sarcasm, but her eyes were twinkling with amusement. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for bringing my Lily home in one piece.”

  “Most welcome. She and Crystal had a great time. Have a seat and you can catch me up on what’s been going on.”

  He eased down into one of her fancy chairs and made himself comfortable. “Dad said Florene quit?”

  “Yes.”

  “In this economy, you don’t want anybody to be without a job.”

  “True, but she wasn’t a good fit for our needs. Told us she wanted the freedom to run her kitchen. Emphasis on the her.”

  “I’m sure you all set her straight.”

  “We tried to do it gently, but she made it hard.”

  “Do you have a replacement in mind?”

  “I’d really like to give another student a chance, but after Florene, I’m a little gun-shy. What about this Rocky I keep hearing about? Folks keep telling
me what a great cook she was.”

  “She was, but she’s in Boston taking some truck mechanic courses.”

  “Truck mechanic?”

  “Yeah. Her father used to own my garage. She grew up with a socket wrench in her hand. Working on big rigs is right up her alley. Haven’t talked to her in a few weeks, but we do keep in touch. I can give her a call, if you want.”

  “Please.” Bernadine had yet to meet the legendary Rocky, but the more stories she heard, the more her curiosity was piqued. “If she says no, I’ll talk to Florene’s professor about hiring another student.”

  “Hopefully one with a little less ’tude because we already have Crystal.”

  Bernadine grinned. “True.”

  “So what’s with all the catalogs?”

  “School stuff. Have you seen Marie today? I need to give them to her and let her head spin for a while. Also need to talk to her about the new teacher and when he’s due to arrive.”

  “She and Genevieve are in Vegas.”

  Bernadine stared, dumbstruck. “Genevieve Curry went to Vegas?”

  He chuckled and nodded. “Yep. They’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Genevieve Curry had grown up with town schoolteacher Marie Jefferson, Clay Dobbs, and Malachi. She was quiet, reserved, and such a lady she still wore white cotton gloves to church. Her husband, Riley, disappeared last summer, along with his six-hundred-pound pet hog, Cletus, after Cletus caused the death of a human parasite named Morton Prell. All that aside, Genevieve being in Las Vegas was like finding the pope in a strip club, but the idea of it made Bernadine proud of her. “I hope she and Marie are having a good time.”

  “Me too. She’s earned it after what Riley and Cletus put her through.”

  Bernadine agreed. Riley let Cletus move into the house, and it became so filthy the place had to be condemned and was razed. Now, because Genevieve had no home, she was temporarily living with Marie Jefferson and her mother, Agnes. “I wonder where they are?”

  “Marie’s got a favorite hotel—”