For Your Love (2 page)

When they had the space cleaned to their satisfaction, Lily walked over and circled her arms around his waist. “Have I thanked you for my beautiful room?”

Mimicking her, he paused for a moment to think. “Hmm. Not today, so tonight, I'll be looking for a little extra in my reward package.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

“You know that silky little black number you brought back from Spain?”

Mischief shone in her eyes. “Yes.”

“I want my reward package wrapped in that.”

Laughing, she nestled against him. “You got it.”

 

T
rent's first love was cars. Were it left up to him, he'd spend his days and nights restoring them, sanding and painting the bodies and then stepping back to admire the finished product. Instead he spent his days doing something he didn't really care for—­being mayor. Riley Curry used to be mayor of Henry Adams, but folks got so tired of his boasting and shenanigans that they wanted him out. When word got around about his plan to have Henry Adams annexed by the neighboring town of Franklin and that he was in line for a sizable kickback, clamors for his head rose high enough to be heard on the moon. There was one problem, though—­no one wanted the job. Not Clay Dobbs or Bing Shepard or Malachi. Back in the nineteenth century, Olivia July, wife of the infamous train robber Neil July, had been mayor for many years, but even Trent's grandmother Tamar eschewed following in her ancestor's footsteps and running for the office. For the first time in living memory, she deemed herself too old. Trent didn't believe a word of it. As the deadline to be added to the ballot neared, ­people began approaching him about taking the job. Some touted his advanced degree as a positive factor, while others pointed to the years he'd lived in LA. Why that made a difference, he still didn't understand. His former teacher Marie Jefferson encouraged him to run, as did many of the local farmers and ranchers. Even Will Dalton, the county sheriff and an old friend, suggested he throw his hat in the ring. It got to the point where everywhere he went, someone was telling him what a great mayor he'd make, but it was Tamar who finally sealed the deal. She'd raised him, and he loved her with each beat of his heart. She was a tough, no-­nonsense kind of woman and not above hitting below the belt to make a point. In this instance, she sat him down and together they looked at the old photo albums chronicling Henry Adams's historic past—­from the ones dedicated to the August First parades to others holding tintypes of Olivia, her outlaw husband Neil, and other members of the family. Tamar talked to him about the Great Exodus of 1879, the migration that brought African Americans to Kansas, and all the Dusters, as they called themselves, endured to found the town and secure its future. He then got a lecture on legacy and honor and what the ancestral Julys like Mayor Olivia were owed by Julys like himself. The guilt was laid on so thickly and with such weight, all he could do was surrender because he knew she was right.

So, he ran, and won. Riley received only two votes—­the one he'd cast for himself, and the other from his wife, Genevieve. Were the vote taken today, Genevieve would rather set her hair on fire than vote for her now ex-­husband and by association his nasty pet hog, Cletus.

It was Trent's hope that when the next election came up in two years, he could turn the reins over to someone else and spend the majority of his time raising his sons and making love to his beautiful wife. But for the moment, he was still mayor. As he turned on the lights in his plush office and took a seat at his desk to begin his Monday, he knew he could be in a far less cushy place of employment, working with ­people he hated instead of his wife and her generous boss, Bernadine, so with his blessings in mind, he booted up his laptop.

Twenty-­four hours ago, Bobby Douglas had been eating dinner alone in the small kitchen of the Dallas apartment he shared with his girl, Kelly “Kiki” Page, and their eleven-­month-­old twins, Tiara and Bobby Jr. She and the kids were out with his mom, which gave him the opportunity to ponder their decision to move to Henry Adams, Kansas. The offer to relocate had come from a lady neither he nor Kiki had ever met, Ms. Bernadine Brown, the mother of Kiki's best friend, Crystal. It all began a few months ago, when Crystal unexpectedly showed up at their door, announcing she'd run away from her Kansas home and was moving back to Dallas to start over. The three of them had known each other since middle school, but he and Kiki hadn't seen Crystal in three years and had no idea she'd been adopted and was living in Kansas. Her plans for life in Dallas had quickly gone awry, however, and she wound up returning home. A few weeks later, she called to relay her mother's invitation.

The life he and Kiki shared was a paycheck-­to-­paycheck existence rooted in food stamps, state aid, and struggle. The idea of trading it in for what Ms. Brown assured them over the phone would be a much better one seemed to be a no-­brainer, especially since he'd been promised a job and housing too, but he was concerned.

He and Kiki had been together since middle school. She was from a single-­parent home, and he'd grown up in foster care, aging out a year ago when he turned eighteen. He'd spent his high school years gang-­affiliated and tatted up. The moment the twins were born, he took the intense beating required for getting out and turned his eyes to the future. Working two jobs and getting his GED on the side left him exhausted and still broke. Kiki never complained. They both wanted their babies to have more, but could that happen in a place he'd never seen, surrounded by ­people he knew nothing about and who, more importantly, knew nothing about him? Having been born, bred, and raised in Dallas, he knew how to deal there. He didn't know a thing about living in a small town, and what he'd seen on the television news programs left him with the impression that the ­people who lived in them seemed pretty rigid in their thinking. Would he be profiled and pulled over by the cops because of his color and tats? Would he be viewed with suspicion for being a former banger? Kiki had dropped out of high school after getting pregnant. Although she wanted to finish her education, she hadn't had time because of their children. Would that be held against her?

In truth, his worries were moot. He'd already given his notice to the owner of the car dealership where he was employed as a full-­time valet, and to the supervisor at his weekend job parking cars at one of the downtown hotels. Ms. Brown would be sending her personal jet for them in the morning. The only option was to go forward. The deal was done.

So he had finished his meal and washed up his dishes. To keep himself busy while he waited for Kiki and the babies to come home, he packed the rest of his clothes into the beat-­up old suitcase he'd borrowed from his mom and fought to convince himself that this whole Henry Adams thing would work out for the best.

Now Bobby and Kiki entered the small airport in Hays and spotted Crystal right off. She and Kiki screamed simultaneously and flew into a hug. A chuckling Bobby stood holding both babies in their carriers, looking into the kind brown eyes of a tall, curvy woman wearing a killer fur coat.

“Hi. I'm Bernadine, Crys's mom. Welcome.”

“Thanks. I'm Bobby Douglas. This is Tiara and Bobby Jr.”

She leaned down to get a better look at the babies staring up at her. “Aww. They're cuties. Hi, little ones. You've no idea how anxious everyone in town is to meet you. They're planning to spoil you rotten.”

Seeing his bright-­eyed children's responding smiles, Bobby replied, “Not too rotten, I hope?” He liked Ms. Brown. For a woman rolling in money, she had a nice easy way about her—­not stuck up at all, even though he was still trying to wrap his brain around her owning a jet.

“How old are they?”

“They'll be a year in January. Thanks for sending us snowsuits for them.”

The teary Kiki and Crystal finally parted. “Kiki, this is my mom, Bernadine Brown. Mom, this is Kelly Page, but everybody calls her Kiki.”

“Pleased to meet you, Kiki. Welcome.”

Kiki wiped her eyes “Thank you. Same here, and thanks for the flight. Your jet is—­there are no words.”

“Glad you enjoyed it. I've heard lots of good things about both of you. Thanks for helping Crys out while she was in Dallas.”

“No problem. It's what friends do. And thank you so much for this invitation. Right, Bobby?”

“Exactly. It means a lot.”

“Let's head to the car.”

The shiny black town car came with a driver—­a White guy named Nathan Nelson. “Welcome to Kansas,” he said with the same easy manner Ms. Brown exuded. The weather was freezing, and although Bobby was anxious to get out of the wind, he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to help the driver load their one suitcase into the trunk or not. Nathan solved the issue by gently placing his hand on the handle. “I'll take this. You go ahead and get in before you freeze. The babies and their seats should fit fine.”

Riding in Ms. Brown's private jet had been a new experience for Bobby. Making himself comfortable in the back of a luxury vehicle was also new. As he shivered, wishing for a thicker coat, he hoped it didn't show.

Kiki asked, “Is it always this cold?”

Crystal laughed. “This isn't even real winter. Wait until January.”

Once they were under way, Crys and Kiki chatted away while Bobby spent most of his time marveling at the snow-­covered countryside and taking discreet glances at their benefactress. He caught her checking him out just as discreetly and wondered what she might be thinking. In an effort to make a good first impression, he'd worn his only suit—­a black one usually reserved for funerals—­and a tie. Beneath his inadequate jacket, his tats peeked above the collar of his threadbare blue dress shirt. He was certain Crystal had explained to her mom that he no longer did the banging, but he hoped she wasn't alarmed by the sight of his extensive ink.

“So, Bobby,” Ms. Brown said. “Crys told me you enjoy working on cars.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Then you and Trent July, our mayor, should get along well. He owns the local garage and restores old cars.”

“Looking forward to meeting him.” Bobby was thankful for the two years he'd worked at the car dealership. As a lowly valet, his interactions with the customers had been minimal, but he'd learned to speak properly and to handle chitchat. Before he was hired, his speech had been strictly street; he doubted the ­people in Crystal's town rolled that way.

Crystal was telling Kiki where they'd be living. “There's a trailer on Tamar's land that Mom is going to put you in. You'll love it, and Tamar. Although she can be tough sometimes.”

“Who's Tamar?” Kiki asked.

“Our matriarch,” Ms. Brown explained. “I may own the town, but she runs it. She's in her late eighties. Her family has been in Kansas since the 1800s. She's also Trent's grandmother.”

Bobby wondered what this trailer looked like. All the ones he'd ever seen were broken-­down, rusted hulks. He was also concerned about living near such an old lady. They hadn't come all this way to be personal-care aides, had they? “What kind of work's available, Ms. Brown?”

“Depends on what you'd like to do. If you want to work on cars, I'm sure Trent has some contacts in the area. Any other interests?”

“I'd eventually like to own my own detailing business.”

“Trent will be the person to talk to about that, too.”

The answer satisfied him. He hoped this Trent July wasn't the hassling type, though. If he was going to work someplace, Bobby wanted to get along with the man in charge. He also hoped that being mayor didn't mean July was a jerk. If that turned out to be the case, he'd just have to deal with it. To provide for his family, he needed a job, and at this stage of the game he couldn't afford to let a boss's messed-up personality interfere with that.

“Did you eat on the plane?” Ms. Brown asked.

Kiki shook her head. “No, ma'am. We were too excited. Bobby and I have never flown before.”

“There's a bunch of food waiting at your new place,” Crystal said.

Ms. Brown must've seen the confusion on Bobby's face. “Courtesy of the local women's group,” she explained. “We thought you might want to just get here and relax. Everyone wants to meet you, but there's plenty of time for that after you get situated.”

Bobby appreciated that. He wanted to check out where they were first before having to do a bunch of hand-­shaking and smiling. The babies were getting fussy and starting to whimper. He figured they were tired of being strapped in the carriers. They didn't like them, and he couldn't blame them. “How much longer before we get there?”

“About thirty more minutes.”

Kiki reached into her bag and took out two bottles. Both held water. The twins took the offerings in their chubby little hands, and as they began sucking on the nipples, they settled down.

Ms. Brown said, “Once they get out of those seats, they'll probably be a lot more comfortable.”

Bobby noted her smile and the way she watched the twins. Maybe this would all work out after all—­if they didn't freeze to death.

When they exited the highway onto a dirt road, Bobby saw more fenced, snow-­covered fields. Some small houses were set back from the road, with a lone truck or two parked nearby, but there weren't any businesses in sight. None. Were it not for the houses, he'd think the area was totally unpopulated.

“Where are we?” Kiki asked, peering through her window. She sounded as confused as Bobby felt.

“Almost home,” Crystal offered reassuringly.

“Your town's bigger, right?”

“Not really,” Ms. Brown answered. “We have a subdivision and a few buildings on our main street, but the rest of the area's just like this.”

Bobby sat back.
This
was where they'd be living? This desolate stretch of snow-­covered nothingness? He and Kiki shared a look. He wished they were alone so they could talk, but for now, all they could do was wait and see what the rest of the day might bring.

A short while later they drove up a cleared driveway. Bobby saw an older home up ahead, but Nathan steered onto another dirt road. Bobby looked around. There were four trailers spread out over a large expanse of land. They stopped in front of one of the four.

“Here we are,” Ms. Brown said.

Although the exterior was nicer than he'd been expecting, he worried about furniture and appliances and how he was going to afford them—­all things he'd thought about when he and Kiki initially accepted Ms. Brown's invitation. He'd mentally buried the concerns beneath the excitement tied to moving. Now, the worries were back.