Chapter 5

Jessica and her parents had Thanksgiving dinner at her loft. Since her mother had to cook for the Michelsons, they had a late holiday meal.

Her mother had brought over a sweet potato pie and collard greens. During dinner, Jessica told her parents that she had been invited to an art gala in Manhattan on New Year’s Eve. The coordinator wanted her to bring some of her work to put on display. It was last minute, but Jessica didn’t mind. She always had a few pieces finished and ready for sale. Hopefully, she would sell something at the gala. They nodded their congratulations and continued to eat dinner.

Fifteen minutes later, they were having dessert – in silence. Jessica could tell something was off. “Are you two all right?”

“Yeah,” her father answered. “Why?”

“You two are acting . . . strangely. You two are usually chattier than this.”

“We’re just tired, baby,” her mother said. “The holidays are a busy time at the mansion.”

Jessica nodded. “Well, at least Earl Michelson isn’t around anymore. You two wouldn’t have been able to come at all.”

“True. May he rest in hell,” her father mumbled.

“You mean rest in peace,” her mother corrected.

“No, I don’t,” he said with a deep frown.

“Eat your pie before you say too much,” her mother hissed.

Understanding dawned. “I see. You two had a fight before you came over here,” Jessica stated.

“No,” her father said.

“Yes,” her mother said at the same time.

Jessica decided to keep her mouth shut. Her parents didn’t fight often, but when they did, she did her best to stay out of it.

They finished dessert without saying another word.

Fifteen minutes later, Jessica and her mom were cleaning up the kitchen. Her father was watching the ten o’clock news.

The phone rang.

“Who could that be?” her mother asked.

Jessica shrugged and started walking to the phone on the wall. Very few people had her landline number. The people who had it wouldn’t call her on Thanksgiving. “Hello,” she answered.

“Hi, Ma,” Debbie greeted.

Jessica was surprised to hear her daughter’s voice. She had just spoken to her that afternoon to wish her a Happy Thanksgiving. “Debbie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just felt like talking to you again,” she answered. “I’m not used to you not being around for Thanksgiving.”

Jessica smiled. “And I’m not used to being away from you on Thanksgiving.”

“Ma, I’m thirteen now. Don’t you think I’m too old to have a babysitter?”

“What did your father say?”

“He and what’s her name went out to an orchestra holiday concert or something tonight, and they got me a babysitter. She’s nice and all, but she’s only a few years older than me.”

“What? Your father isn’t spending Thanksgiving with you?”

“No. I mean, we all had dinner together, but afterwards, he and what’s her name went out on the town.”

“How old is the babysitter exactly, honey?”

“Eighteen.”

Jessica sighed with relief. At least she was a legal adult. “Debbie, there is a big age difference between eighteen and thirteen. I know you don’t see that now, but you will when you are eighteen.”

“Well, all right, but I still think I’m too old to have a babysitter.”

Jessica chuckled. “Your father is just being cautious. You’re very precious to him.”  She wondered about her last statement considering that Drake left Debbie alone on Thanksgiving night to take his fiancée to a concert.

“I know,” she sighed.

“Before you know it, you’ll be sixteen and be able to stay at home alone.” Jessica and Drake had agreed that Debbie wouldn’t be allowed to stay home alone for longer than an hour until she was sixteen.

“Okay. Sixteen. I’m holding you to that, Ma.”

Jessica chuckled. “I know you will. You got a memory like an elephant.”

“Let me talk to my grandbaby,” her mother said as she approached her.

“Debbie, Grandma is here. She wants to talk to you.”

“Great!”

Jessica handed her mother the phone.

“I want to talk to her when you’re done, Marjorie!” her father yelled from the sofa.

****

Marjorie and Bobby had just walked out of Jessica’s apartment. As they walked to the elevator, Marjorie hissed at her husband. “You almost blew it.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “How?”

“By acting like you didn’t have any sense. That girl ain’t stupid, and she knows us.”

“I don’t think we should keep this a secret from her anyway. She should know. We don’t want the child to be ambushed.”

The elevator doors opened. They stepped inside.

Bobby pressed the button for the basement garage.

“After the holidays. By then, it probably won’t be a big deal. Matter of fact, we might not have to say anything at all,” Marjorie said.

“What if Jessica . . . sees him before he takes flight again?”

“How? As long as she stays in Harlem and in the city limits, she won’t run into her past. She has no reason to come to the mansion.”

“She could come to visit us,” Bobby said as the elevator continued to hum.

“As long as we continue to come here, she won’t have a reason to go to the mansion.”