Page 13 of Tempt Me

Jackson barked out a laugh. “Neither could Nat.”

His wife, Alicia, had caught my headshake. She put a hand on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He had the good grace to look sorry and rolled his lips between his teeth. Jamila stilled.

But it was too late.

“What’s this, Natalie?” Mother asked

Crap. I wished I didn’t have to have this conversation in front of my brother, his family, and Jamila. I wished Andrew was here to act as a buffer like he always did. It was my fault for delaying. Mother would’ve figured it out anyway when I didn’t go to school on Monday.

“I, uh.” I glanced at Noah, who watched me like I was the latest video game. I wished I didn’t have to admit my failure, especially in front of him. What kind of example was I, flitting from school to school, career to career?

I knew which kind—a terrible one.

“I quit the culinary program.” I looked down at my blueberry pancake. Surely sensing a problem from the way I’d picked at my dinner Friday night, our cook, Telma, had made my favorite brunch dish. She was one of the reasons I’d thought cooking school was a good idea. Telma could make anything better with food.

But not this.

“You didn’t, Natalie.” Mother’s voice was imperious.

Even Charles couldn’t resist a comment. “But you loved cooking school.”

I glanced at him and had to blink away a tear at his kind expression. “I didn’t. Not really. I didn’t like the pressure, the rushing.”

“Or the fashion,” Jackson joked. My big brother could never resist a dig. Thank goodness he was out of noogie range.

“What do you think you might try next?” Alicia asked. That was my sister-in-law. Always focused on the future.

“Maybe…” Glancing at Jamila, I took a deep breath. “Maybe public relations.”

“Nat.” Jackson shook his head. “Jamila doesn’t need your help.”

“She does!” I flapped a hand at her. “She needs someone’s help.” Why was I the only one who saw it?

It was the wrong thing to say. Jamila’s expression went as cold and hard as Mother’s china.

“What’s going on, Jamila?” Charles asked.

“Nothing y’all need to worry about,” she said, but Charles dragged the story out of her.

When she finished, he grimaced. “Maybe you do need some help.”

“It was quieting down Friday afternoon,” she said. “They’ll forget by Tuesday.”

“We should call Della,” Mother said.

“I already did,” I said. “She can’t take it on.”

Mother hummed.

“I can help,” I said. “I’ve done a ton of research, and I called Della’s niece. She’s a communications consultant.” That was a stretch. She seemed almost as clueless as I was, but we’d scheduled a coffee on Monday to strategize. Paying her, even in coffee, made her a consultant.

The silence around the table told me what Jamila and my family thought of that idea. Even Charles, who was usually my ally, sipped his coffee.

“Jamila, darling, you’ll need to watch that temper of yours if you’re working with a financial services company,” Mother said. “They’re notoriously risk averse.”

“It’ll be fine, Mrs. H. I’ve got it under control.”

That was a lie if I’d ever heard one. Just as I was about to call her on it, she shot me a calculating look. “So, Nat, who are you dating lately?”

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