“The Debutante Ball was so magical,” Addie beamed. “I cried my eyes out. I can’t believe Kya is 16. It feels like it was only yesterday that I was rushing to Sumby Hospital to see her for the first time.”
“I hate I couldn’t make it,” said Sharleen as she sprayed more caramel macchiato cold foam creamer into her cup of medium-roasted coffee. The vibe at the Cool Beans Café pulsed with magnetic charm.
On Monday mornings, most people in the small, close-knit community of River Rouge made their pilgrimage to its white-brick structure with large commercial bay windows. The cozy atmosphere inside made you want to lounge and linger as long as possible.
“I hate that you couldn’t make it too. But thanks again for your sponsorship. Kya was absolutely stunning. On top of being the most gorgeous, of course I’m biased, and the highest fundraiser, she was voted Miss Congeniality.” She raised three fingers. “She was a triple-crown winner, but they still gave the Belle of the Ball Award to Monique Henderson, and we both know why?”
“Politics,” they chirped at the same time and snapped their fingers.
“I was more upset than Kya was. She had to console me. She said, ‘Auntie, I don’t need an award to validate me. I already know I’m somebody special and no matter what, nobody can take that away from me.’ That made me cry even harder because a 16-year-old was making more sense and was more composed than her 37-year-old aunt. I couldn’t have been prouder.”
“It’s a shame. Those Hendersons bribe whoever they need to get whatever they want, and we all know it. They’re not teaching their daughter the right values. I feel sorry for her.”
“Huumph. When you put it like that, I feel sorry for her too,” Addie said, sipping her chai tea latte.
“She’s going to learn that there are some things that mama and daddy’s money won’t be able to buy, and she’ll be left to deal with that cold, harsh reality. Then how will she cope?” asked Sharleen.
“Exactly.”
The digital doorbell chimed in a warm, inviting tone. Their eyes turned to the impeccably dressed woman entering the Cafe. Her copper-colored bob perfectly framed her cinnamon-dusted face. She wore a red turtleneck sweater with taupe pants, fashionably accented by a leopard-trimmed, floor-length beige coat and high-heeled boots.
“All hail. Here comes the Queen Mother of the Henderson Dynasty,” Addie said sarcastically as Sharleen snickered.
Spotting the duo, Camille Henderson tagged their table as her preferred destination. “Morning Glory, ladies.”
“Tootles,” Sharleen said as she waved her hand as if she were a member of the British Royal Family.
“Top of the morning to you too, Camille.” Addie nodded. She came over here to gloat! Addie thought.
“Wasn’t the Ball positively divine?” she said, placing her gloved hand over her heart as if that would magically make her words sincere. “I was so proud of my Dominique winning the Belle of the Ball Award. Although she is definitely worthy of it, I must say I was a little surprised by the selection.”
No longer able to contain her emotions, Addie slammed her drink on the table. “Pleassseeee, Camille,” e-v-e-r-y-b-o-d-y knows you probably paid off the debutante coordinators so your little uppity fake princess would win that title.”
Camille gasped and jumped back, startled by the outburst. Those sitting around them were just as startled, and pressed pause on their own conversations to tune into the show that was currently airing on the Cool Beans Café Channel.
“Don’t be coming up in here feigning surprise at the outcome, insulting our intelligence. We allllll know what the Hendersons are about-appearances, power, and influence. And you will do anything and run over anybody to get what you want, you twisted, raggedy skank.”
There was a collective gasp in the room, followed by a sprinkle of laughter. Sharleen bowed her head and prayed that Jesus would calm Addie down. She and Addie had been best friends for almost 15 years, so she was well acquainted with Addie’s volcanic temper when she had had enough of something or someone.
Camille opened her mouth to respond, but the only things that came out were unintelligible sputters. No one had ever challenged her like that before, at least not in public. She stormed out of the Café, leaving a trail of the luxuriously scented perfume, Petals & Lace, as a parting gift for the customers.
One Month Later
“Camille, may I talk to you?” Addie asked, standing in front of Camille, who sat on a bench in the city square, sipping her morning cup of java. It was a calm, crisp autumn morning.
“I don’t see why not,” Camille responded.
Addie sat, hands clasped, gathering her thoughts. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last month. Although I won’t apologize for how I felt, that was real, I do know there’s a time and a place for everything. That was not the time or place to address my concerns about your behavior. So, I apologize.”
Camille, now motionless and resembling one of the marbled statues around them, sat stoically, as if peering beyond the visible into the unseen realm. She was so still that Addie swiped her hand up and down in front of her face to make sure she hadn’t slipped into some kind of emotional coma.
Finally, she answered. “You’re right.”
Now Addie was the one who was startled. “I am?”
“You are. I swore that I would never become my parents, that I would be honest and ethical in my dealings with people, and that I would let my child pave her own path. But I’m just like them. The very thing I despised most about John and Carolyn Henderson is the very thing I have become. I am a twisted, raggedy skank!” she erupted into loud sobs. It was ugly.
“Oh my,” Addie replied, stunned by the raw, unpolished emotion coming from Camille. She grabbed a wad of tissues from her purse and passed it to her broken bench mate. “Uh, uh,” Addie stuttered, unsure what to do next. Hug or not hug? Call for backup or fly solo on this one? She took a chance and pulled Camille to her shoulder and rocked and patted her the way one rocks and pats a cranky baby they’re trying to woo to sleep. “You can change. It’s never too late.”
“If only that were true,” she blubbered.
“No ifs about it. People change every day of the week. All you need to do is decide to be a better person, then take it from there. And, of course, it never hurts to ask God for His help. I’m an expert at that because I need a lot of help.”
After leaning on Addie’s shoulders for a little while, Camille straightened her lean body and blew her nose. Her sobs were more restrained. “I’ve never given God much thought except for my two-hour guest appearance at church on Sunday mornings.”
“Well, that may be. But you’re always on His mind. We all are.”
“Really? I’ve never heard that before,” she said, sniffling. “But I like the way it sounds. Tell me more.”
The End
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