Rochelle Alers - Sweet Destiny

Hey Mee-Mee,

Hope you’re doing well. Thought about you and decided to write. Let me know what you’re up to. Love always, Jay

Mia clicked on Reply and gave him an update. After typing several paragraphs she sent the message then logged off. She had to get some sleep before meeting the Yateses and the Chandlers later that day.

Mia woke to diffuse light coming through the sheers. The house appeared to be as silent as a tomb. Then she remembered Selena telling her the third floor was soundproof. Folding back the many quilts, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, walking barefoot over to the window. Sitting on the cushioned window seat, she wiped away the condensation with her fingers and peered out the window to find it was still snowing.

When she’d gone to college in Philadelphia, it had been the first time she’d experienced a real honest-to-goodness snowstorm. It had snowed nonstop for two days, and when it finally stopped Philly was buried under more than two feet of frozen precipitation. It had been a weekend and Mia had found herself snowed in with her cousins Belinda, Chandra and Denise, who’d come over to her aunt Roberta and uncle Dwight’s house to hang out with Chandra. They had talked to Donna Rice—Belinda and Chandra’s older sister—and her twin daughters using a webcam.

Mia felt hot tears prick the backs of her eyelids when she thought about Donna. Her cousin had died, along with her husband, Grant Rice, in a horrific head-on collision when a drunk driver swerved across the road and collided with their car. Earlier, after their daughters had been born, Grant and Donna had named Belinda and Grant’s brother, Griffin, as legal guardians to Sabrina and Layla. Ironically, Belinda and Griffin eventually married and were now the parents of three children with the birth of their son, Grant Rice II.

Mia chided herself for becoming depressed when she should have been looking forward and not reminiscing about the past. As a doctor, she’d experienced the miracle of life and the finality of death. But she didn’t want to become so far removed from the cycle of life that she became indifferent. She was a scientist and a realist, but she was also empathetic—sometimes too empathetic to be a good doctor, she thought.

Stretching her body across the window seat, she closed her eyes, willing her mind to go blank. She’d begun meditating, on the advice of her roommate, who’d shared a two-bedroom apartment with her in downtown Houston. Mia found the exercise calming, and it left her feeling balanced. As an only child she’d grown up pampered and protected. But as she matured, what most people would consider protected and indulged she thought of as being smothered. Even when she’d gotten her driver’s license, her mother had arranged to have a chauffeur at her disposal. Of course her friends loved sitting in the back of the limo pretending they were out on the town.

What they couldn’t understand was that Mia wanted to do things normal girls did: hang out at the mall, have sleepovers, go to the movies, flirt with boys and attend high school football and basketball games. But for Letitia Eaton, her daughter’s sleepovers were catered affairs, and Mia’s sweet sixteen was comparable to a high society wedding.

The clock on the fireplace mantelpiece chimed the hour, and she opened her eyes. It was nine o’clock, time to get up and face the first day of a new year.

Mia had showered, shampooed her hair, made the bed and put the bedroom in order when she skipped down the staircase to the first floor. Dressed in a pair of tailored black wool gabardine slacks, a cashmere twinset and a pair of leather ballet-type flats, she walked into a large kitchen to find Selena with three women, all of whom were talking at the same time.

“Good morning.”

The trio turned to look at her. Recognition dawned on the face of Selena’s mother. With the exception of the gray strands in her hair, Selena was a younger version of Geneva Yates. Even without a formal introduction she knew the eldest woman was Kenyon’s grandmother. He hadn’t inherited her coloring, which looked like aged parchment, but he did have her cool gray eyes. Her silky, silver hair was fashioned in a bun on the nape of her long, elegant neck.

“Good morning,” came a chorus of female voices.

Selena approached Mia, pulling her into the kitchen. “I didn’t expect you to be up this early.”

“Whenever I wake up, I usually get up. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the luxury of sleeping in late.”

“Maybe if you had a husband you’d have an excuse for staying in bed,” Lily Yates mumbled loudly.

“Grandma Lily!” Selena and Geneva said in unison.

Lily, a tall, slender, raw-boned woman, waved her hand in dismissal. “Don’t ‘Grandma Lily’ me, because you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Her eyes narrowed when she stared at Mia. “You’re not going to worry much longer about that, because I see you getting married.”

Geneva put down the wooden spoon she’d used to mix a batch of cornmeal. “Grandma Lily, please stop. You’re scaring Mia.”

“No, she’s not,” Lily countered, “even though she looks like she would blow away in a strong wind. No, Geneva. This young girl don’t scare that easily. Do you?”

“No ma’am.”

Lily clapped her hands. “See, I told you.”

Geneva gave her mother-in-law a disapproving look. “Please don’t start with you seeing visions.”

“Why is it everyone else believes me when I see things, but you don’t, Geneva? The only time you ever listened to me was when I told you not to marry that good-for-nothing triflin’ Jimmy Pritchett. Of course he ended up just where I said he would. In prison! But, then you redeemed yourself when you married my son.”

“Mama.” It wasn’t often that Geneva referred to her mother in-law as Mama. But when she did, Lily knew she was upset with her. “Don’t forget that we have a house guest.”

Lily shoved her hands into the patch pockets on her bibbed apron. “Must you be reminded that Mia is family, not a houseguest. In fact, she will…” Her words trailed off before she predicted what she’d seen in the vision that had flashed in her mind.

“She will what, Grandma?” Selena asked.

“Never mind,” Lily mumbled under her breath. She’d learned over the years there were some things better left unsaid. “Mia, can you cook?”

The question caught Mia off guard. “A little.”

“I can see that, because you’re skinny as a rail. Sit down and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

Mia’s gaze shifted from Lily to Selena, who nodded, then back to Lily. “Thank you, Miss Lily.”

“None of that Miss Lily business. Call me what everyone calls me. Grandma Lily.” She said Grandma as if it were a grand title, like Your Highness or Mr. President. Lily Masterson-Yates was proud of her grandmother status, and now at seventy-six she was looking forward to the birth of her great-grandchildren.

“Can I perhaps help out with something? I’m not very hungry.”

Selena reached for Mia’s hand, directing her to a round oak table in the dining nook of the expansive kitchen. “We were all going to sit down and eat breakfast before we start cooking.”

“What about Xavier?”

“He’s still in bed. So is everyone else. The men probably won’t get up until it’s time for the football games. Then you’ll have to blow them out of the family room to sit down to eat. Dinner will last about three hours—sometimes four, then everyone retreats to the family room to watch a movie or sleep it off.”

“How many bedrooms do you have in this house?” Mia asked.

“Six, not counting the one in the attic. Then there’s my grandmother’s apartment in the converted garage. I’ll give you a tour after we finish cooking. By that time everyone should be up.”