Page 1 of The Secret to a Southern Wedding

one

Imani licked her lips and reached out, flexing her fingers open and closed in a “gimme” fashion toward her lunchtime savior. Loretta worked behind the counter in the hospital’s busy lunch line. Her black hair was covered by a hairnet and laugh lines creased the dark brown skin around her nose and mouth.

Loretta shook her head and smiled, but Imani didn’t care. She was starving and Loretta had exactly what she needed.

“I made sure to put one to the side for you today,” Loretta said handing over the red-and-white-checkered food boat with a golden brown fried corn dog in the middle.

“I owe you big-time, Loretta.” Imani grinned as she snagged the corn dog and placed it on her tray. “I just knew I was going to miss getting one.”

“You’re the only person I know who gets so excited when we have corn dogs for lunch,” Loretta said. “Most of the doctors prefer the fancy stuff.”

Imani shook her head. “Give me a corn dog and mustard any day over fancy. How’s your daughter and the baby?”

Loretta’s smile broadened, revealing one gold tooth. “They’re doing great. I’m so glad I told her to come see you instead of that other doctor. Thanks again for fitting her into your schedule. I don’t know if she would have made it without you.”

Imani’s cheeks warmed and so did her heart. “Of course, I’m going to fit her in. You always save the best corn dogs for me.” They both laughed before Imani sobered. “Seriously, I’m glad they’re okay. Tell her to call the office if she needs anything.”

“Will do, Dr. Kemp,” Loretta said with a bright, grateful smile.

The man next to Imani in line cleared his throat. Loretta threw him an annoyed look. Imani shrugged and waved a hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She moved on down the line and grabbed a handful of mustard packets and a bag of baked potato chips before scanning the crowded seating area for her lunch partner. She spotted Towanda Brown, a doctor from the hospital’s orthopedic practice sitting in a corner near one of the windows.

Maneuvering through the filled tables, Imani kept her eyes down to avoid eye contact as she made her way through the maze of bodies, seats and chairs toward her friend. Still, she received several points and stares with whispered “yeah, that’s her—the hospital’s chosen one” along with a few waves from some of the less cynical doctors and nurses for her to sit with them at their table. She gave the people who caught her eye a polite nod before pointing toward Towanda.

She sat with her friend and sighed. “Sorry I’m late.”

Towanda shrugged. Despite having not run track in over ten years, Towanda still had the tall, muscular figure that once had her on the fast track for the Olympics before an injury ended her career. Her sienna skin was as line-free as it had been when Imani first met her, and she wore her hair in braids that were pulled back in a ponytail at the base of her neck. She looked closer to thirty-three than her actual forty-three.

“It’s so busy today, but I knew you’d make it for corn dog day.” Her friend grinned and pointed to Imani’s tray.

“Loretta never lets this day go by without saving me one,” Imani said.

“That was before you helped her daughter. I’d be surprised if she doesn’t make extra just to pack up and deliver to your office.”

Imani chuckled while opening a package of mustard to put on the corn dog. “I would’ve helped her daughter despite her support of my corn dog addiction. She was seeing a doctor who ignored all her fears. I was just happy to let her know that her concerns were valid and that I wasn’t going to gas her up with fancy talk.”

“And that’s why you’re the hospital’s doctor of the year,” Towanda said pointing behind Imani.

Imani didn’t look over her shoulder. She knew what was there. Her face was plastered all over the hospital right now on signs, cardboard cutouts and television screens. Was she proud of being named the hospital’s doctor of the year? Kind of. She’d spent so much of her life trying to become an obstetrician patients could rely on and trust. Did that translate to being comfortable as the “face” of the hospital system for a year? Not one bit.

“Can we not talk about that right now?” Imani squirted mustard down the length of her corn dog.

“Why not? It’s something to be proud of.”

“And I am proud. I just don’t want that to become all I am. Especially when we know the hospital administration’s guilt about the last few doctors of the year may have had something to do with it.” She raised a brow.

The last four years hadn’t included a female doctor of the year at all and only two women were nominated. Ever since Guardian Heath merged with Mid-State Health to become one of Florida’s largest health care systems, the struggle to diversify prior to the merger was lost as profits and popularity became a thing. When she learned of her nomination, Imani hadn’t believed she’d had a chance of winning against a heart surgeon and oncologist.

“You won because you’re the best and that’s all we’re going by,” Towanda said.

Imani shrugged. “Fine, I’m the best. Now can we talk about something else?”

Talking about being the hospital’s doctor of the year meant thinking about how the obstetrics unit now pushed her in front of every camera they could find to draw more clients to the practice. Imani, who’d previously been a liked and well-respected member of the practice, but never thrust forward as the only Black doctor for diversity points, was suddenly a double commodity. She didn’t like that.

Imani took a bite of her lunch. The savory mixture of the mustard with the hot dog wrapped in cornmeal batter made her groan with pleasure. “This is soooo good.”

Towanda’s brows rose and she eyed Imani curiously. “Can we talk about how after watching you go in on that corn dog and moan like a porn star, I don’t know why you haven’t caught a man, yet?”

---