Page 99 of A Million Times, Yes
“Right.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s all going to befine.”
“That mouth,” I whispered, holding her by the chin and kissing the center of her lips.
Bruce opened the back seat door for us, and I climbed out first, waiting outside with my hand extended to help Maya. With our fingers now locked, I led her toward the area where the ceremony was being held.
We were only halfway there when Maya said, “There’s my mom.” Her fingers tightened when the words came out of her mouth.
I followed her line of sight. I assumed the woman she was speaking of was the one standing in the back, away from the media and the large group of people that had gathered, with her hands in the pockets of her pants, looking as though she didn’t have a place here.
“Let’s go meet Mom.” I pulled her hand up to my mouth, kissing the tops of her knuckles as we walked over to her.
It was easy to spot the similarities between the two: the dark-brown hair, even though Maya’s mom wore hers shoulder length and straight; their brown eyes, thick lips, and petite height. But where they differed—something I knew without having even met her—was their personalities.
There, they couldn’t be more opposite.
Maya released my hand so she could hug her mother, the embrace shorter than I’d expected, with Maya the more loving of the two. “I’mhappy you came,” Maya said once they separated. She clung to her mother’s shoulders. “Mom, this is Jordan, my boyfriend ... and your new employer.”
“Hi, Jordan.” Debbie offered a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’d shake your hand, but I think this warrants a hug.” I wrapped my arms around her thin frame and gave her a decently long squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
When I pulled away, she said, “Thank you so much for the job. It’s awfully kind of you and your family to offer it to me.”
“We’re excited to have you. This project is going to help thousands of people in our city. You’re going to do a lot of good in this neighborhood.”
“Yes, well, it makes for a powerful connection when you can relate to someone on the level that I’ll be able to relate to these future tenants.” She quieted, and a look passed between us. Like identifying the elephant in the room, but watching the large animal find the exit and walk out. “I’m looking forward to establishing relationships with them. Helping. Putting them in these beautiful apartments that will become their home. That’s all they want—a safe, comfortable space for their family.”
Maya’s hand found mine and linked our fingers.
“And you get to be the one to deliver that to them. It’s going to be a rewarding feeling, I’m sure,” I said.
“And a sour one when I’m plagued with the task of having to evict them.”
There was no question she was hinting at her past. But she was also referencing a responsibility she would now have to take on. One that I knew wouldn’t be easy, given that she knew exactly how it felt.
“If anyone can handle it with grace, I’m positive it’s you,” I said gently. “And hopefully, there won’t be too many.”
“I sure hope not,” she replied.
A few seconds of silence ticked between the three of us before Maya said, “Mom, I haven’t met Jordan’s family yet, so I’m going to go meet them. Would you like to come?”
“I think that would be nice.”
Maya squeezed my fingers, gaining my attention as she mouthed, “Here we go.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maya
Throughout my life, I’d learned the difference between people who had money and people who wanted money. And as Jordan held my hand, my mother on my other side, walking over to Peter and Melinda Worthington, there were two things I immediately noticed: First, this was a couple who had all the money. Their clothes, her jewelry, the purse that hung on her shoulder, the veneers in her mouth—those were just some of the signs. But there was the way she stood, how she maintained her posture, the confidence with which she smiled, the smoothness with which she moved her mouth as she spoke.
This wasn’t a couple who needed.
This was a couple who gave.
As we got closer, something else became apparent: the kindness in Melinda’s eyes. In so many ways, I felt like I was looking at Bettie. Which made sense—this was her daughter—but that didn’t necessarily mean that trait would transfer. Personality-wise, my mother and I were different people; she was the ice that my warmth attempted to melt.But I sensed that when it came to Bettie and Melinda, they were far more alike.
My stomach flipped with each step, my breathing became labored, my limbs tingled, even more so as Melinda turned toward us, noticing we were approaching, and she headed for us, closing the distance.
