Page 1 of Jonathan

Chapter 1

Sunlight glittered across the lawn and dappled the palm leaves swaying in the midsummer breeze. The scent of blooming flowers enhanced the serene setting.

Vibrant umbrellas in green, red, and black shaded white lawn tables, protecting diners from the sun. Tasteful nude sculptures were nestled among begonias, hibiscus, and orchids.

Water trickled from the fountain in the terrazzo driveway's center. Valets in pressed black suits and white gloves directed traffic and parked vehicles efficiently. The place buzzed with activity - conversations muted, laughter soft - as guests preserved the peaceful atmosphere.

The hostess – owner and chef, glided from one table to the other, exchanging pleasantries, sharp mahogany eyes studying the settings and discreetly adjusting floral arrangements.

She did not miss anything. Angela Wilton ran Wilton’s Jewel with competence wrapped in steel. Her employees feared her, and she preferred it that way. The stunningly beautiful African American had taken over the restaurant from her father when he had to retire due to health issues and had stepped seamlessly into the role.

The place was always packed and patrons waited months to get a reservation. The food was terrific, the ambiance one of romance and if business was what one was after, there were little privacy booths tucked in here and there.

Angela did not miss a trick. It was also a favorite wedding venue and if one was fortunate to be able to get a booking, the service was exceptional.

Stopping at a table, Angela passed a cool glance over the woman reclining in the comfortable chair and sipping frosted lemonade, with a sprig of mint and a slice of lemon floating in the pale liquid. A phone was attached to her left ear and her expression was intense.

“Pierre, the day I give your restaurant a good review is the day I officially dance naked in Times Square,” she listenedfor a second before adding. “Fine. I will see you this evening. Ten minutes.” She hung up and acknowledged her mother’s presence, The last thing Kamilah wanted to do was to be here, but Angela had insisted.

“I am here, what’s the big emergency?”

Her mother’s mouth tightened in disapproval as she slid in across from her.

“Is it too much to ask that you don’t bring work here?”

Kamilah’s tapered brows lifted. “You called while I was doing a review, so yes, I had to bring my work here. What is it this time, Mother? The last review I wrote was too trite and underwhelming? Did I forget to mention the lovely backyard patio and grill that you introduced? What?”

Mother and daughter stared at each other, the tension enveloping them like a well-worn cloak. It had been this waysince Kamilah had decided that she would rather be a critic than join the family business.

It did not matter that she had made a success of her career and was highly respected in her field. That was not enough. She did not fit into the mold her mother had created for her, and it was a constant source of argument between them.

“Don’t be crass!” Angela brushed at an invisible lint on the snowy white tablecloth. “Brian called me this morning.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“He wants a second chance.”

Kamilah would have laughed if she were not so upset.

“A second chance at what? You both know that it was not a relationship.”

“He is perfect.”

“Why?” She demanded. “Because he is a lawyer.”

“And a very successful one.” Angela tamped down an impatient sigh as she stared at the younger woman. Kamilah had inherited her stunning beauty, with something extra.

She was tall and slender, willowy, as some would describe her. Her caramel skin was flawless and her now shortened hairstyle emphasized the shape of her face and pointed chin. Mahogany eyes stared out from long curling lashes which could cut people in two with just one look. Her lips were wide and provocative.

Her lobes were dotted with several colorful stones. Three in the left and four in the right. She was brutally frank and impossible to pin down. She also played by her own rules.

“Here’s a thought,” she murmured, suddenly tired of the conversation, “why don’t you start dating him?”

Dark eyes flashed as Angela’s mouth thinned. “He’s half my age.”

Her daughter’s husky laugh lacked humor. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“I am your mother, and I deserve some respect.”

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