“I wouldn't really mind if he wasn't rich. I just want someone who loves God and then loves me. I don't need a lot of money.”
“How about if he loves God and you, and he's rich? That would be perfect, right?”
Montana grinned. “Can he be handsome too? Can he be tall, caramel-colored, and muscular with beautiful eyes?”
Montana stopped cold when she realized she was describing Quentin. “He could be short, though,” she added. “I'm tiny, so he doesn't have to be tall.”
Chloe gave Montana a strange look but did not get a chance to respond because Estelle came back into the kitchen.
“I would like for some of the church members to attend,” Estelle said, “but they won't all be able to afford that one-thousand-dollar ticket price.”
Chloe frowned. “This is supposed to be a society affair. The cream of Atlanta society will be here. If we wanted it to be a church picnic, then we would've had it at the church.”
“Freedom of Life is very important to me, and Bishop Prentiss continues to pray for my son and family. I would never exclude them from any event in my home. I also will have the ladies from our Steering Committee, and the Nurse's Guild. And, of course, Bishop Prentiss's children. Just make room on your guest list.”
“But . . .”
“No buts,” Estelle said. “I won't hear any objections to this. Now on to the menu.”
Montana watched Chloe's expression darken. She didn't know if Chloe looked angry or just plain frightening, but Montana was sure of one thing. She didn't want to cross her path. Montana pushed all thoughts of Quentin to the back of her mind.
God would have to send her another prince, because this one was already attached to his prospective queenâby her claws.
CHAPTER 12
C
hloe was annoyed by her meeting with Estelle and Montana. So much so that she called Lichelle to meet her at Neiman Marcus for some serious retail therapy. While Chloe waited for Lichelle to arrive, she tried on a pair of Louboutin peep-toe ankle booties. They made her toned legs look phenomenal, but it still wasn't enough to lift her spirits.
Chloe almost didn't recognize Lichelle as she sashayed over to the shoe department. She was wearing a new mid-back-length red wig with big barrel curls. It was loud and garishâsomething that Chloe would never wear but that was perfect for Lichelle.
“Hey girl,” Lichelle said in her bubbly voice. “You like my new do?”
“It looks good on you,” Chloe said truthfully, as they shared a hug.
Lichelle looked down at the shoes. “Those are fierce, girl. Get them. In every color.”
Chloe laughed out loud. It wasn't unusual for Chloe to use her entire shopping allowance on shoes. Quentin loved to see her in heelsâespecially red bottomsâwhether she had on clothes or not.
“What was the emergency?” Lichelle asked. “You called me sounding crazy. All I heard was a bunch of noise about a chunky nanny.”
Chloe shook her head. “You don't listen to me. This chick has stars in her eyes when she talks about my man. That is a problem.”
“I mean, but she's the help. Quentin wouldn't get with the help. He's got too much class for that.”
“Yes, I agree, but his mother just loves her. She sings in the choir at church, and you know Estelle has been dying for her son to come back to that church.”
Lichelle shrugged. “So what? You go to church too.”
“But I can't sing.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“He used to be a musician, you know. I don't want that girl to have anything on me.”
Lichelle tapped her acrylic nails together and seemed to ponder this possibility. It certainly worried Chloe that she didn't have that music thing going. What if Quentin did decide one day to play that piano again? Would that heffa be draped across the piano in a negligee, playing the part of the muse?
“Chloe. Chloe! Where'd you go? I thought we were having a conversation here!”
Chloe shook her head and exhaled. “I'm here. I just thought about that woman under the same roof as Quentin! He won't even let me spend the night.”
“So she goes to church, and she's curvy. Is she a buttaface?”
Chloe scrunched her nose. “What is a buttaface? Your hood slang is so troublesome.”
“A buttaface is a chick with a nice body and a jacked-up face, like a smashed stick of butter.”
“Oh. Well, no. She's cute if you like rosy cheeks, big eyes, long eyelashes, and plump red lips.”
“Wait, it sounds like you're the one trying to holla at her!”
“Lichelle! I need your help, and you're just mocking me.”
“I'm sorry, girl. I don't think you need to worry, but it is always good to have some dirt on her, just in case.”
“You're right.”
Just as Chloe was deciding whether to get one or two pairs of the booties, Deirdre walked into the shoe department and picked up a pair of designer pumps. Something about a teenager being able to buy thousand-dollar shoes bothered Chloe. She remembered life before her first sugar daddy. Back then, Chloe was lucky to get a pair of last year's fashions out of Marshall's or T.J. Maxx.
“Look at her,” Chloe said.
Lichelle shrugged. “Her daddy is a baller. What do you expect?”
“It makes absolutely no sense at all.”
“I keep telling you to get that ring, so you can have an all-access pass to them dollars too. He's got you on the same budget as his teenage daughter.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes, and her nostrils flared a bit. “I'll be right back.”
Chloe dropped her shoes onto the floor and stormed toward Deirdre. As she stomped she rapidly formulated a plan.
“Where are you going that you need shoes like that?” Chloe asked, as she walked up to Deirdre.
Deirdre turned and smirked at Chloe. “Wouldn't you like to know?”
“I don't care, but your father would want to know, especially since I heard him place you on punishment indefinitely.”
“Who says I'm going anywhere? Maybe I need these shoes for a school program.”
Chloe laughed out loud and took one of the silver shoes from Deirdre's hand. “A school program? What are y'all doing? A reenactment of a night at the club?”
“Why are you bothering me? Are you spying on me so you can run back and tell my father?” Deirdre asked, as she snatched the shoe back.
“I am not the one you need to be worried about, honey. It's the jail keeper they hired. She's your problem.”
“I know,” Deidre said with a sigh. “She was interrogating me this morning.”
“I could help with that.”
Deirdre lifted an eyebrow; her skepticism apparent. “How?”
“I can help you get around her and your father's punishment if you really want to see your little boyfriend in the hood. I'll pretend to mentor you or something. Then I'll drop you off wherever you want to go.”
“Will you bring me home too?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “I suppose I'll have to.”
“Wait a minute. Why would you do this for me?”
“I'm not sure yet, but I may need your help.”
“With what?”
“Listen here, don't question me. Just tell me if you want to do it. I'll get you to your boyfriend, and you'll help me later, if and when I need it.”
Chloe grinned at Deirdre, as she waited for the words to sink in. She could tell that Deirdre didn't trust her, but she still didn't refuse the deal.
“If I do this and you try to play me, I'm telling my dad.”
Chloe laughed out loud. “Ditto.”
Deirdre snatched up her shoes, spun on one heel, and marched away. Her hesitation tickled Chloe, but it also made her careful. She was in just as much danger from a betrayal as Deirdre, maybe even more so. After all, Quentin wouldn't disown his daughter over this treachery, but he might just break things off with his fun buddy.
Chloe sighed. She had to move quickly, before her window of opportunity passed. Operation “Ditch the Nanny” was in full effect.
CHAPTER 13
A
loud crash of thunder woke Montana from a deep sleep. She'd been dreaming about Cinderella, of all things. In the dream she and Cinderella were wearing rags and running through a huge mansion, and they were being chased by something unseen. It was crazy, because in the dream, Montana was a real woman, but Cinderella was a cartoon, like in the film she'd watched over and over again as a child. She touched her stomach and wondered if that late-night plate of shrimp fried rice was the cause of her strange dream.
Montana decided to make herself a cup of lavender tea. It always settled her stomach and made her sleepy. At least she got to sleep in a little bit in the morning. The kids were on spring break, so no drop-offs. As soon as she got the schedule down, they were out of school for a week. She was going to have to learn everything all over again.
Montana slipped a robe on top of her nightgown and put on a pair of furry slippers before quietly descending the spiral staircase to the kitchen. As big as the Chambers mansion was, it seemed like almost everything took place in the kitchen and the media room. The rest of the house went mostly untouched.
On her way into the kitchen, Montana peeked into the parlor that used to be the favorite place of the late Mrs. Chambers. It was a warm and friendly room, even in the dark in the middle of a storm. Occasionally, Montana would see Quentin in the room, standing in front of the window staring out at the pond, but tonight he wasn't there. The mansion was silentâeven the floor creaks were drowned out by the sound of the rain.
In the kitchen, Montana quietly heated her tea water in the microwave. She preferred using a teapot, but she didn't want to break the silence with the whistle of the pot.
When the tea was ready, she sat down at the table and closed her eyes. The house was so peaceful with the rain pattering against the roof. She was tempted to go outside and splash around in the puddles.
In Montana's robe pocket there was a buzz. Her cell phone. Who would be texting her at this hour? Immediately she thought of her elderly aunt in Cleveland and snatched the phone from her pocket.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it wasn't her aunt, but let out a low groan when she saw who the text was from. Rio. Why hadn't she changed her number after they split up?
His text said, Montana, it was so good seeing you. I know I said I wouldn't contact you after you broke up with me, but I can't stop thinking about you. You look like you've gained a few pounds, but trust me when I say it's in all the right places. I'd love to feel you in my arms again. Don't you miss me at all? Did I really lose my favorite girl to Jesus?
Montana shook her head and deleted the text message. There was a time when she had missed him. She'd missed him so badly that she'd almost given up going to church. But she prayed for God to remove her craving for Rio and all of the carnal things he'd done with her and to her.
God was faithful, because she didn't have those cravings for him anymore. He was like a drug that had been flushed from her system. She'd been detoxed.
Montana finished her cup of tea and quietly rinsed her cup, dried it, and put it back in the cupboard. She had turned off the light and headed back to her room when she heard a loud thump behind her in the kitchen. Then there was a yelp that sounded like a child, but it could've been an animal. She pondered for a moment, grabbed a poker from the fireplace, and headed bravely back into the kitchen.
Montana threw on the light switch and there, sprawled out on the floor, clutching her ankle, was Deirdre. She was soaking wet from head to toe, and wincing from pain.
“Deirdre, are you okay?” Montana asked.
She nodded and put a finger to her lips. “Will you be quiet? Are you trying to wake up the entire house?”
Montana put the poker down and kneeled next to Deirdre. She touched the ankle that Deirdre was nursing. Deirdre winced in pain again.
“I think your ankle is swelling.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Deirdre said.
For some reason, this made Montana giggle. “Sorry, I know you're in pain, but that was funny.”
“I'm glad you're so easily amused,” Deirdre said.
“What were you doing out there anyway?”
Finally, Montana noticed what Deirdre was wearing. A tiny jean skirt, cute heels, and a snug knit blouse. She also had on a face full of makeup.
“I was just taking a walk,” Deirdre said.
Montana held up one of the red five-inch heels. “In these?”
“Yes,” Deirdre said as she snatched her shoe. Montana tilted her head to one side and swept the wet hair from Deirdre's face. “You can trust me, you know. I'm not your enemy.”
“You're my warden. That's why they hired you.”
“Maybe we could be friends.”
“Isn't that called fraternizing with the prisoners? I'm sure it's against the rules. Plus I don't need any more friends. I've got enough.”
“That's crazy. Why don't we get to know each other first before you decide.”
Deirdre rolled her eyes. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, let me think. What do you want to be when you grow up? Where are you going to college?”
Deirdre laughed loudly and then quieted herself. “Why do I need to go to college? It's not like I'll ever need a job. We've got more money than I can ever spend. I should just drop out of school right now and go shopping every day.”
“I can't believe what I'm hearing!” Montana fussed. “Not everyone has the opportunity to have the kind of education your family can afford. I scraped my way through school, but it was the best thing ever. You don't just go to college to get a job. You go to discover who you are.”
“I know who I am,” Deirdre said. “I'm a trust-fund brat.”
Montana tilted the girl's chin upward and smiled at her. “You're more than that! God's called you to do something.”
“God doesn't care about me. If He did, my mother would still be here.”
Montana's heart ached for Deirdre. “I felt that way when I lost my mother, but I hope someday you'll feel differently.”
“Whatever,” Deirdre said, slowly rising to her feet. “I'm going to bed. My walk has tired me out.”
“Well, don't you want to know anything about me?”
“Nah. You're the one trying to be friends. Not me.”
Montana sighed as Deirdre hopped out of the kitchen. Quentin wasn't the only one in the Chambers family who needed healing. Montana might have to leave his wounds to Chloe, but she would see to it that Deidre got healed.