Seasoned with Grace (14 page)

His morality and unwillingness to compromise only made her desire for him more palpable. She wanted to feel all the goodness that was wrapped up in the drop of chocolate seated before her.
This ain't right. I don't know what it is, but this ain't right.
Grace reprimanded herself for being focused on the flesh while Horace was trying to commune with her spirit.

“How do I become Eve?”

“Get right, Grace. Get right in the sight of God. Seek forgiveness from those that you have offended.”

Grace groaned. “That's a long list.”

“Listen, in Matthew, chapter five, the Word tells us that if we've offended our brother, then we must first go to our brother and ‘be reconciled' and then offer our gift. The only real gift we have to give to God is ourselves. Apologize to those you know you've done wrong, and then ask God for His forgiveness.”

“What if they won't forgive me?” Grace couldn't believe she was sharing her fears with Horace after only a few sips of water. Usually, it took some coke and a few shots before she did that. But Horace made her feel protected. Safe. “What do I do if they won't forgive me?”

“Then you go to your Father. Leave them and yourself at His feet for a cleansing. They'll have to deal with God after that.”

Grace liked the sound of that—having the Lord as her father had to be better than having her biological one.

Cautiously, Grace planted her pointy-toe pumps on each marble step of 60 Centre Street. This wasn't the first time that she had walked up the steps of the courthouse, so she wasn't sure why buckets of fear filled her belly. She came in peace and had nothing to worry about, based on what Horace had explained to her over dinner Saturday evening. If Candace didn't accept her apology, then Candace would now have to carry that weight, and Grace would be absolved of her guilt.

Using all her weight, Grace forced the brass revolving doors to turn. She slid her purse through the scanner and maneuvered around the metal detectors, greeting every guard who manned the lobby by first name and stopping in front of one guard who had to be a descendant of Goliath.

“Hey, Paterson. I could use your help today,” Grace said, patting him on the shoulder.

“My help?” he said, sounding surprised. “What can I do for you, Ms. King?” he asked, tipping his hat without taking his eyes off the metal detectors.

“I'm looking for a court reporter by the name of Candace. I can't remember her last name. She's kind of petite, with great caramel skin—”

“Real conservative, though,” he interjected. “She's always wearing pearls and sweaters.” He tapped Grace's elbow with his elbow.

“That sounds like her.”

“She's working with Judge Toomer today. If she's not in chambers with the judge, she's on lunch now,” he said, staring at the round clock that hung above the entrance.

“Thank you, Paterson,” Grace replied, looking up at him. “What do I owe you?”

Placing his hand on his heart, he said, “This one is on the house.”

Grace dashed to the elevators and up to Judge Toomer's chambers on the fifth floor. She'd appeared before Judge Toomer a couple of times. He was definitely a fan, so she knew it would be easy to get in and see Candace. After knocking on the door of his chambers once, she heard his commanding voice boom on the other side of the oak door. “Enter.”

After smoothing her A-line skirt, Grace pushed open the door and began speaking right away. She talked quickly to ensure the judge didn't have a chance to ask one question and to make sure he heard only one thing, “I need Candace.” Without hesitation Judge Toomer gave in to Grace's seemingly desperate plea for a moment with her girlfriend.

Judge Toomer came from behind his grand desk, escorted Grace to the door, and told her exactly where Candace could be found. “She's in the pavilion, feeding the pigeons and praising God.”

Grace looked back at the judge in disbelief.
Who the heck spends their lunch like that?

Pointing toward the window at the end of the hall, Judge Toomer said, “Come see for yourself.” Linking arms with Grace, he led her to the window. Grace looked down at Candace, then back up at Judge Toomer. The pity that had entered her heart the moment he told her where to find Candace had been doubled now that she'd seen it for herself. The chiming of Grace's phone broke the state of quiet contemplation that she and Judge Toomer had entered.

Raising one finger, Grace excused herself and turned her back on the judge to read the text from Junell.

Grace cracked up at the series of emojis that followed the word
Court.
I'm attempting to be a whole woman for Horace.

Sucking her teeth, Grace turned around to face Judge Toomer, who was still watching Candace toss shreds of bread at the pigeons that surrounded her.

“Is everything all right, Ms. King?”

“Absolutely,” Grace lied, conjuring up a smile to support her lie. She wasn't going to be spilling her guts twice this week, and she wasn't even in anger management. “Judge, do you think you would be willing to excuse Candace for the day?”

Judge Toomer raised an eyebrow and drummed his fingers on the ledge. “Grace, feeding pigeons in the park alone is a sad state to be in, but don't bring me back a drunk court reporter who likes to get into bar fights.” He wagged his finger at her. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Grace placed one hand in the air, as if she was being sworn in. “I will not get her involved in any of my shenanigans. I promise.”

Grace used the emergency exit staircase that led right into the courtyard. She flew down the steps as fast as her pumps could carry her. Clearly, she'd spent way too much time in the courthouse if she knew where each staircase let out. This was definitely something that needed to be amended on her journey toward wholeness.
Maybe only one trip a year
, she thought, until she completely got breaking the law out of her system.

“If you feed them too much, they'll explode,” Grace said over Candace's shoulder.

“That's rice. If you feed them rice, they'll explode. A little roll won't kill them. Are you the bird police?” Candace asked, looking over her shoulder at Grace. She jumped to her feet, swiping her purse and the remainder of her lunch in preparation to take flight. “Grace, if you attack me in public, you'll be locked up on the spot.”

Grace smiled. Candace's fear was amusing to her. Stepping over the pigeons, Grace moved closer to Candace. “Worried about retaliation, huh?” Grace hiked up the sleeves on her jacket. “You should have thought about that before you raised your hand to me.”

“I don't know what came over me.” Candace waved her hands in surrender.

Grace grabbed her wrist. “I know what came over you. . . . You're in love with a man. That has been known to cause many women to do some utterly ridiculous things that no one in their right state of mind would do.”

Candace's arm stiffened in Grace's hand.

“Relax. I came to make peace with you. Did you have lunch yet?”

Candace held up a plastic bag containing some Tupperware. “I was about to get started. I always feed them first”—she pointed at the pigeons—“so they won't bother me while I'm eating.”

Grace interlocked her arm with Candace's and pulled her close. “Come on. Let's have lunch.” Grace ripped the plastic bag from Candace's hand and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. “You won't be needing this.” Grace looked Candace up and down. The various shades of brown adorning her slender body made Grace's stomach feel queasy. “First, let's make a stop at Bergdorf, because I can't be seen in public with you looking like . . .” Grace waved her hand up and down, searching for an accurate term to describe Candace's muddy brown outfit.

“Like what?” Candace asked, breaking out of Grace's armlock.

Candace looked like a pot of beef stew that had been left out overnight, but Grace had to find a more appropriate way to say that. “Like a librarian. Now, come on. We'll settle our score later.” Grace wrapped her arm around Candace's again and began walking out of the courtyard.

Candace didn't budge, causing Grace to snap back like a rubber band.

“Grace, I'm on lunch. I can't go traipsing around the city with you.”

“Don't worry. You've been excused.” Grace looked up at the window where she and Judge Toomer had been watching Candace feed the birds. “Just smile and wave at the judge,” Grace said through her already smiling lips.

 

 

The brilliant lights of Bergdorf welcomed them, along with the doorman, who swung the door open for Grace with his lips cut into a simple smile. He let go of the door immediately after Grace passed by, and Candace had to scurry through on Grace's heels or get clipped by the door. Grace kept looking over her shoulder, like she was escorting kindergarteners on a school field trip. Candace paused at every item that shined and walked over to every sales clerk who leaned on the counter and summoned them.

“Get your tail over here,” Grace said, yanking Candace away from some new European collagen cream. “You don't need that crap, and stop looking around like this is some sort of amusement park.”

Bowing her head, Candace said, “I'm sorry.”

They rode the escalator upstairs in silence. When they stepped off the escalator, a gentleman in a beige tailored suit greeted them.

“Ms. King, welcome back.” He reached out and double-cheek kissed her.

Grace leaned in, returning the pleasantry and gagging on the inside. This boy didn't know her from a hole in cement, yet he felt the need to impose himself on her, because he thought he might get rich off her this afternoon.

“Would you like me to call Sercee and let him know that you're here?”

“No.” Grace waved her hand, shooing the man away. If this trip were about her, Grace would have demanded that her personal shopper, Sercee, be summoned immediately. However, this shopping excursion wouldn't require his special touch.

Grace scanned the floor for Candace, who'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. Grace rolled her eyes when she found her tucked in a corner with a flat white sheath pressed against her. “On second thought,” Grace said over her shoulder, “call Sercee and tell him we're doing a fashion intervention.” Grace marched across the sales floor and snatched the sheath from Candace's hands. “No way.”

“Don't worry.” Candace squeezed her lips together and flicked one of the tags at Grace. “All this stuff is way too expensive.”

Grace looked at the tag and smiled. A grand on a dress from Bergdorf was a steal.

“The price is irrelevant. A boxy sheath on your pear shape . . .” Grace stuck her finger down her throat like she was gagging. “Here are the ground rules for this little excursion. No knee-length, free-flowing skirts, Baptist convention suits, or cardigans, and no worrying about the price. Today is about fashion. Let's just get you hooked up.”

“Grace, I think you should be careful with how you spend your money. Ethan told me—”

“I don't care what Ethan told you about me,” Grace said through clenched teeth. “Let me worry about me, okay?” Grace put the dress back on the rack in front of them. “Thank you for your concern, but now is not the time.”

“Ms. King, room four is ready for you. Would you like me to escort you up there?”

“No, I know my way around.” Grace waved good-bye and grabbed Candace's hand. “Follow me,” she said over her shoulder.

“Where are we going now?”

“You'll see.”

“Welcome to room four,” Grace said slowly when they arrived at their destination.

Candace inhaled and let out a little squeal when Grace pulled open the door to room four. “Grace, what is this?” she asked, scanning the room.

Grace strolled across the camel carpet and plopped into a large, cushy chair. “This is one of the perks of being rich and famous in the city of dreams.” Grace crossed her legs and took a sip of the champagne on the black end table beside her chair.

Candace ran her fingers along the edges of the clothing that hung from silver bars along one wall of the room—a beaded, embellished blush-colored dress, a sleeveless black pantsuit, and a long-sleeve gray lace gown. She fixed her eyes on the shoes that neatly lined the floor like soldiers. She'd never been one to follow trends, but she recognized the Louboutins. They were in colors she'd never seen—a rich navy, canary yellow, and some kind of animal skin dyed electric blue. Perching herself on top of a maroon ottoman in the corner, Candace continued her survey of the room. There were more outfits hanging on the opposite wall and a three-rowed mirror in the center of the room.

“You should check out the clothes on that rack. You'd look great in Valentino,” Grace suggested.

“Valentino?” Discomfiture marked Candace's voice, and her wrinkled eyebrows demonstrated her confusion. “I don't speak fashion.”

“Clearly.” Grace rose from her seat and plucked a long-sleeve, multicolored butterfly-print dress from the rack. “This is Valentino.”

Candace's eyes softened. Grace walked over to her with the dress in her hand. “Try this one on first.”

Rising to her feet, Candace asked, “Grace, what is this all about?”

Before Grace could respond, Sercee bounded through the door. Grateful for the interruption, Grace skipped into Sercee's arms, greeting him with a hug, and then mounted her tippy toes to deliver the customary double kiss to his cadaverous cheeks. Sercee's fashion taste and timing were impeccable. Grace really hadn't thought about how she was going to win Candace over. She'd grown accustomed to the PR department at the firm or Ethan drafting her apologies. She had no clue what she would say. Sercee would most certainly be enough of a distraction for Grace to hunt for the words she needed to smooth things over.

“Dahling, you said we were doing a fashion intervention.” He peeled his glasses off his face and looked down at Candace. “But she needs a total overhaul. Is she barefaced?” He gasped, slapping his cheeks.

“Relax, relax,” Grace said, fanning both hands in Sercee's direction. Grace wrapped an arm around Candace, whose tawny skin was turning a cinnamon color under the distress of Sercee's criticism. “Let's do the wardrobe first, hair, and then makeup.”

“Grace?” Candace said.

“Don't worry. We're not doing anything too drastic, but it will be better than that ‘fashion on a budget' makeover you tried.” Turning to Sercee, Grace began to pour out the praise for the magnificent collection he'd pulled together. “These looks are so awesome. I love how you think. She is going to look great in Valentino. I think Lanvin would be good too, something with a little ruching or a tapered waistline. Do you have any menus from BG available?”