Rochelle Alers - Forever an Eaton - Bittersweet Love

“So, the day Grant got his seven-figure salary and all the perks that went along with his position, he warned me about putting success before family. I never wanted children because I didn’t want them growing up with parents who fought more than they made love. And since life doesn’t always play out the way we want it to, I’m committed to making the best of the hand I’ve been dealt. I promised my brother I would take care of his children in the event anything happened to him, and that means being available for parent-teacher conferences, school concerts, supervising sleep-overs and chauffeuring them when it’s time for college tours.”

Belinda tried to hide her confusion. She’d believed that Grant worked long hours so that Donna could be a stay-at-home mother and the envy of the other women in their social circle who were jealous because they were working mothers.

“I didn’t know,” she said softly when she recovered her voice.

“I doubt if Donna knew how Grant felt. He wasn’t one for opening up about himself—not even to his wife. In that way he’s a lot like my dad. It has taken my father more than forty years to tell my mother that he’d been carrying around a world of resentment because she got pregnant and he had to drop out of medical school to take care of her and their child.”

Belinda couldn’t stop the frown forming between her eyes. “He should’ve accepted half the blame. After all, she couldn’t get pregnant by herself, Griffin.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, beautiful. People always blame others when something goes wrong in their life because it’s easier than accepting responsibility that perhaps they, too, were wrong.”

Belinda lowered her gaze, staring at Griffin’s strong, brown throat. “I should apologize to you.”

“For what?”

“I retract what I said about you not having any redeeming qualities.”

“You said no such thing.” Belinda’s head came up, her exotic-looking eyes filling with confusion. “You said, and I quote, ‘I’m not attracted to you, and there’s nothing about you that I find even remotely appealing.’” He placed his free hand over his heart. “You have no idea of how much you hurt me when you said that.”

Belinda was hard-pressed not to laugh at his affected theatrics. “Suck it up, Rice. What I said pales in comparison to when you said I wasn’t at the top of your list for what you’d want in a woman.”

Griffin angled his head and smiled. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I lied.”

Her smile matched his. “I suppose since we’re into true confessions, then I’ll admit that I lied, too.” She wanted to tell Griffin that she was attracted to him and found him very appealing.

Griffin brushed a light kiss over her parted lips. “Let’s go back inside and close this deal. I’m certain Sabrina and Layla are anxious to take their puppies home.”

Belinda caught the sleeve of Griffin’s jacket. “Before we go in I just want to remind you that the girls are leaving to go on a class trip to D.C. two days before I’m out for spring break. We’re going to have to make arrangements to board the puppies for those days.”

“They won’t have to go to a kennel.”

“They’re too young to be left alone.”

“Don’t worry so much, Lindy. I’ll stay at your place until you come home.”

“What if you have to leave town on business?”

“Whatever it is can wait,” he said softly. “Remember, family comes first, even if it’s of the four-legged furry persuasion.”

* * *

Roberta Eaton smiled at her granddaughters, each holding a tiny puppy with dark fur and tan markings. “What do we have here?”

“Grams, this is Cecil Rice,” Sabrina announced in a loud, dramatic voice. “He’s a Yorkshire terrier.”

“And this is Nigel Rice,” Layla said, introducing her puppy. “We gave them British names because Aunt Lindy told us that Yorkshire is in England.”

Roberta Eaton pressed her palms together. “They’re so tiny. How much do they weigh?”

“Nigel is two pounds and three ounces and Cecil two pounds and six ounces,” Sabrina answered, bragging like a proud mother.

Roberta shook her head in amazement. “Together they don’t even weigh five pounds.” She leaned over, kissing her granddaughters who were now as tall as she was. “Go show your Gramps the puppies, then put them away because it’s time to eat.”

Belinda hugged and kissed her mother before heading toward the kitchen. She hadn’t missed sharing a Sunday dinner with her parents since Donna passed away because she knew what it meant to her mother to have at least one of her children with her for what throughout past generations had become a family day.

Myles, who lived and worked in Pittsburgh, wasn’t expected to return until the end of the school year, and her younger sister, Chandra, was now a Peace Corps worker assigned to teaching young children in Bahia.

Roberta gestured to the tall, casually dressed man standing behind her daughter, clutching the handle of a crate. “Griffin, please find some place to put that doggy prison, and then come eat.”

Griffin complied, putting the wire crate in a corner of the spacious entryway. “I have to go back to the car and bring in dessert.”

“You didn’t have to bring anything. I made a coconut cake.”

Smiling and sharing a knowing look with Belinda, Griffin said, “I guess ours will keep.”

“No doubt,” Belinda crooned, playing along with him.

Roberta caught the surreptitious exchange between her daughter and Griffin. “What did you bring?”

“Carrot cake.”

“From where, Griffin?”

“Ms. Tootsie’s Soul Food Cafe.”

“Bertie, stop playing,” Dwight Eaton called out with his approach. “You know you love Ms. Tootsie’s carrot cake. But then again, any dessert from Ms. Tootsie’s isn’t as good as yours,” he added quickly, always the diplomat.

Belinda gave her father a wide grin. He always said the right thing. Dr. Dwight Eaton was only a couple of inches taller than his wife, but what he lacked in height he compensated for with wit and personality. His patients loved him as much for his medical expertise as his gentle bedside manner. His dark brown face was smooth, except for a few lines around his equally dark eyes behind a pair of rimless glasses.

“How are you, Lindy?”

“Wonderful, Daddy.”

Dwight smiled at Griffin. “Are you taking good care of my girls?”

“I’m doing the best I can, sir.”

The older man waved a hand. “Please, Griffin, none of that ‘sir’ business. Don’t forget you’re family.”

Voices raised in excitement preceded a streak of dark fur running across the living room. Roberta caught a puppy—Belinda still couldn’t distinguish whether he was Nigel or Cecil because their markings were identical—and Griffin put the runaway puppy into the crate, while she went to retrieve the cake from his SUV.

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, everyone sat down at the dining room table to enjoy a traditional Southern dinner of macaroni and cheese, smothered pork chops, collard greens, buttery corn bread and sweet tea.

Sabrina and Layla talked nonstop about school, the students who rode the bus with them on their new route and the research they’d gathered from the internet on Yorkies. It was the first Sunday dinner since the death of their parents that the sisters were animated and their mood ebullient. Both decided to forego dessert to play with the whining, yipping puppies that were anxious to be released from their confinement.

Griffin, at Belinda’s urging, said their goodbyes at six to return home and prepare for the upcoming week. When Belinda retired for bed later that night her thoughts were of Griffin—how she’d come to look forward to seeing him, sharing meals and the responsibility of raising their nieces.