Page 61 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 3

I plastered a genuine smile on my face because pretty soon, I’d be a Taylor, too, and there was nothing bad about that.

We entered the hotel lobby and were directed to the restaurant. The hostess led us straight through the opulent dining area and into a special section next to the kitchen with an open view of the chefs cooking.

My parents came out of their seats as we started to make introductions, when my mother looked directly at Althea and boldly asked, “And who are you?”

I noted that the table was only set for six, not seven. Internally, the fear of what my mother might say made gooseflesh rise on my skin and sweat bead at my temples.

“Chantelle Shaw, this is Althea Taylor, the matriarch of the family. It seems as though the table was set for six in error. I’ll see about having the adjustment made,” I volunteered and raced off to find help.

Before I could exit the area, a man in a suit approached and offered his assistance. I told him the concern, and he assured me he’d take care of it right away. And when he snapped his fingers at a couple of waiters and whispered our needs, the two individuals bolted into action.

Before we were finished with the pleasantries, the table had been adjusted. Memphis led his Granny to the head of the table, and she proudly took a seat.

My father’s face was set in a grim line as my mother made nice with Robin.

We ordered drinks and were handed a very select menu with only ten items total.

“Excuse me.” Granny waved over our waiter, stationed not far from the table.

“How may I help you, madam?” he asked her.

Granny put a hand to her chest. “Such manners. Well, young man, my menu doesn’t have any prices on it. I believe I received the wrong one,” she stated.

Before I could correct her, Memphis’ father blurted. “Mine too.”

“Same here,” Robin stated, waving her menu like a flag.

Neither of my parents could contain the sour expressions that crossed their faces.

“Hey, guys, the prices are never listed in this particular restaurant,” I informed them.

“Then how are you supposed to determine what you can afford?” Leon asked.

“Dad, you don’t,” Memphis interjected. “You pay whatever the price is at the end of the meal.”

Leon shook his head. “And let some establishment take me and my hard-earned money for a ride? Can you believe this, Abraham? They think we were born yesterday?” He blustered and showed the menu to my father, who looked at him blankly.

“Dinner is our treat. Please do order whatever you like. We have eaten here before and are comfortable with their pricing structure,” my father offered.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Oh, but we insist,” my mother started, and I knew when Leon continued to shake his head that I would have to intervene. Leon was a proud man who took care of his family.

I reached past Memphis and patted Leon on the hand. “It’s customary in my family for the person that sent the invitation and picked the location to pay for the dinner. Perhaps the next meal will be a place of your choosing, and you can treat us,” I suggested.

My mother nodded avidly to which I was eternally grateful, even though my father looked bored and annoyed.

“I could have you over for my homemade mac and cheese, and Leon can grill,” Robin offered, and I could have kissed her. “He’s a grill master.” She smiled lovingly at her man, and my heart melted.

“She’s not lying,” Leon boasted and chuckled openly. “I’m a wizard on the grill.”

“Sounds…like a unique experience,” my mother agreed.

“Well, all right then. I’m starved. What’s good around here?” Leon asked, and I watched a muscle in my father’s jaw tick as he attempted to cover a sneer. Something he did rather poorly, but thankfully, Robin and Leon hadn’t noticed.

We gave our orders for appetizers and entrees as my father asked what Memphis’ father did for a living.

“Retired now,” Leon stated, rubbing his leg. “Was a long-haul truck driver for almost thirty years, until I had a bad accident.”

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