CHAPTER 22
Ramona’s ebony eyes grew as large as saucers. “Leo shoved in the door?” The retiring mayor had joined Doreen and Megan Friday morning in the kitchen of Books & Bakery. She leaned forward on the dainty honey-wood chair, her mug of cooling coffee forgotten. “And then what happened?”
Megan gave her older cousin an exasperated look from the other side of the table. “If you’d stop interrupting, she could tell us that much faster.”
Puzzled, Doreen looked from Ramona to Megan. Ramona looked almost gleeful. Megan looked stunned. “Ramona, you’re missing the point. This wasn’t fun for me. They made me feel like a pork chop between two starving dogs.”
Doreen had invited the two women for a private conversation in her white-and-silver kitchen after Darius, Ean, and Quincy had left that morning. She’d put Michelle Mosely, the high-school junior, in charge of the bakery counter. Megan had asked Wesley Hayes, the high-school senior, to watch over the bookstore area.
“Admit it.” Ramona gave her a sly look. “You didn’t feel even a tiny bit flattered that two attractive men were fighting over you?”
“Not even a little.” Doreen huffed again. “They were sniping at each other as though I wasn’t even in the room. It’s my house!”
Ramona propped her elbow on the kitchen table and rested her chin on her right fist. “I used to love when boys would fight over me. It made me feel powerful.”
“The keyword there is ‘boys.’” Megan leaned her forearms on the table. “Doreen’s right. Alonzo and Leo should have known better. But in fairness, it did sound as though Alonzo was defending himself—and you.”
An image of Alonzo crossing his muscled arms over his broad chest returned to Doreen. “Your first mistake was taking Doreen for granted. Your second was believing she was your woman.”
Doreen shook off the thrill of attraction. “I don’t need anyone to defend me.” But did she want it?
Megan smiled. “Sometimes it’s nice when they do.”
Ramona crossed her legs, straightening the hem of her crimson sundress over her knees. “That’s right. Give the guy a break, for Pete’s sake. After all, he’s been in love with you for more than forty years. Good grief! That’s longer than I’ve been alive.”
Megan crossed to the counter and placed a hand on Doreen’s shoulder. “Put yourself in his place. Would you remain silent if the person you loved as deeply as he loves you was in a relationship with someone who was taking him for granted?”
Doreen’s gaze dropped to the floor. She heard Alonzo’s voice again: “I’m not fighting over you, Doreen. I’m fighting for you.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Megan let her hand drop. “Alonzo must love you very much to have left you—and his home—the first time.”
“Can you imagine?” Ramona swung her right leg above her left knee. “I couldn’t have done it.”
Michelle appeared in the kitchen doorway, interrupting their conversation. The unease in her tawny eyes drew attention from her spiked, lemon yellow hair. “Ms. Doreen, Ms. Bates is here. She wants to see you, and she doesn’t look happy.”
“Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more interesting.” Anticipation lit Ramona’s eyes.
Doreen ignored Ramona. “Thanks, Michelle. I’ll be right out.”
Megan’s expression showed her concern. “What do you think Yvette wants?”
Doreen propped her hands on her hips. “I have no idea.”
“Why don’t you speak with her in my office?” Megan glanced at Ramona. “Something tells me you’re going to need the privacy.”
“Something tells me you’re right.” Doreen removed her apron and hung it on a hook beside the sink.
Ramona stood. “Do you need backup?”
“No, thanks. I’m pretty sure I can handle this.” Doreen left the kitchen, aware of Megan and Ramona following her.
Yvette Bates waited beside the cash register. Her pose was a study in disdain. The high-school English teacher was model slim, with subtly applied makeup and expertly styled dark brown hair. She appeared to be enjoying her summer. Her sun-kissed brown skin glowed in a skimpy peach tank top and matching shorts.
Facing her, Doreen felt dowdy and overdressed. “Hello, Yvette. How can I help you?”
“You can leave Leo alone.” The other woman’s words carried a matter-of-fact threat that would make a Mafia don proud.