Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “Wow, Senior sounds like a pretty brave man, standing up to his father like that.”
“Indeed, he was.” Eloise moved closer to me and sat two wineglasses in front of us. She poured me a generous glass of chardonnay, and then one for herself. “He lost a lot of respect for his family the day he chose to marry me. But that wasn’t even the worst part.”
“It wasn’t?” My eyes widened in disbelief, unable to imagine how the story could get worse.
“Do you know they even invited his beautillion escort to dinner?” Eloise continued. “I’ll never forget her name: Mary Lafayette. They thought for sure he’d marry that girl. She was the right pedigree, went to the right schools, was in the right organizations. Above all else, she was the right shade of Black. I had to sit through that dinner with this girl making googly eyes at my man, talking around me like I was invisible. I was sitting up there with a baby in my belly. I couldn’t exactly hide it.”
I swirled my glass of wine around. “That must have been tough.”
Eloise nodded. “It was, but Senior ignored the noise and still chose me. Sometimes it amazed me. We got a lot of stares on campus because of how we looked together. He was so, so fair. And rich to boot! I was so, so dark and poor as dirt. It was the seventies. So, most folks thought he was just ‘getting his Black thing together.’ You know, going for the darkest girl to prove how ‘down for the cause’ he was. A lot of the fair-skinned brothers who were conscious did that. But that wasn’t Porter. He wasn’t into all of that. I mean, he was aware of what was going down with Black Power and all. He just happened to fall in love with me. And I loved him. He told me I made him better. We made each other better and wanted to make a life for us. There wasn’t any deeper motivation behind us being together except love. By the way, Mary Lafayette and her husband ended up in jail for running a Ponzi scheme.”
“Like Madoff?” I chuckled at that revelation.
“Yes, honey, like Madoff! Serves her right.”
I took a slow sip of the wine. “Did things ever get better with your late husband’s parents?”
Eloise scoffed and shook her head. “You know, I thought when we had the boys, it would make our relationship with his parents easier. Grandkids usually ease tensions but that didn’t help. They barely talked to Senior, and they damn sure didn’t talk to me. But every summer, they sent for the boys to come to New Orleans no matter where the Navy stationed Senior. They paid for their college educations, although they were sore with Todd for choosing Howard over Hampton. His parents adored their grandsons, especially PJ, because he was the spitting image of his father and grandfather. They were thanking God that genetics had benefited them, I guess. They’d do anything for that boy. Both of our sons, really. Although Todd probably didn’t see it that way. He says they played favorites. I’m sure they did, if not deliberately, but in subtle ways. Yet, there was nothing that those old, snooty Harrisons wouldn’t do for them. In the end, Senior didn’t care about any of it. If he had us and his parents didn’t hurt the boys, filling their heads with too much nonsense, he was happy.”
Eloise paused and stared at me. “Do you know why I’m telling you all of this, Ari?”
I shook my head, taking a gulping sip of the wine. “Not entirely, ma’am. I mean, Eloise.”
Eloise pushed her wineglass away and put her hand on top of mine, squeezing it gently. “Because sometimes what’s good for us isn’t always in the package that folks expect for us. Even now, my marriage to Desmond shocked a lot of folks. They thought after Senior’s death, I’d marry a man just like him and in the same social circles. Especially Todd. He certainly inherited the Harrison snobbish attitude. But I didn’t. I’ve always listened to my heart. Desmond is different. He’s artsy. He’s spontaneous. But he makes me happy. When I first looked at you, I saw a piece of myself. The way my PJ looks at you, it is the way his father looked at me. All starry-eyed and blissful. I knew you were good for him. He’s done nothing but brag about you before you walked in the door.”
Panic came over me as heat rose in my cheeks. “I’m sorry. He talked about me? I don’t...we aren’t...”
Eloise leaned her head back and laughed. “Oh, let’s not play coy, Ari. A mother knows. It isn’t every day that Porter invites a woman, or even a coworker, to Thanksgiving with us. My son is in love with you, Ari. Don’t you realize that, dear?”
Shit. Bella and Zach had been right. My throat felt dry and heavy, like I swallowed a pack of marbles. I downed the last of my wine without a pause. So much for keeping it casual.
I put down the glass on the counter, finally exhaling. “We work together, Eloise.”
Eloise raised her brow at me and smirked. “That isn’t an answer to my question, darling.”
“I don’t want to complicate things. We don’t want to complicate things. It’s a long story.”
Eloise let out a sigh. “I think Porter could use some complication in his life. The boy is so straitlaced sometimes. If you insist you’re nothing more than friends, I’ll leave it alone.” She uncorked another wine bottle, quickly refilling her glass and mine. “But sometimes...love is like a good roux. It takes time and patience. You can’t turn your back on it.”
I didn’t say a word. I understood her perfectly.
Eloise patted my cheek, gently. “Come along, pretty girl. I’ve interrogated you long enough! Let’s eat.”
We walked back into the family room as Eloise announced that dinner was ready. Everyone walked toward the massive dining room that looked like it was decked out for heads of state, with seating for well over twelve. Porter walked over to me, gently putting a hand on my shoulder. I turned to face him and smiled.
“What were you and my mother talking about in the kitchen? She really had you hostage for a while,” he laughed. “Should I have rescued you? Once she gets going, Eloise can talk!”
“Oh, she was just fine...showing me how to make gumbo.”
Oblivious, Porter raised an eyebrow. “And did you get any good tips?”
“I learned that the secret is in the roux. Sometimes you have to burn a few batches to get it just right.”
Porter shook his head with a smile. “Actually, that sounds like something my dad would say.”
I smiled. “Smart man.”