Page 132

“Your grandmother wants to see these two first,” her mother said. “Nicole. Drew. Come on back.”

The kitchen was the warmest room in the house, and the loudest, even with only one person in it. There were pots on every burner, two sweet potato pies cooling on a rack by the window, and a pound cake under a glass dome, and a sink full of collard greens soaking in water, which meant somebody had already been washing them and was going to be washing them again. Mama Gussie stood at the counter with her back to them, in a blue housedress and a plain white apron, cutting something with the big knife she didn’t let anybody else use. She was singing along with Marvin Gaye’s “I Want to Come Home for Christmas” under her breath.

“Mama,” her mother said. “They’re here.”

Mama Gussie set the knife down, wiped her hands on her apron, and turned around.

She was a small woman, smaller than Nicole, with silver hair pressed and curled and a face that never seemed to change from one year to the next. She saw Nicole first, and her whole face opened up.

“Come here, baby. Come here and let me get some sugar.”

Nicole went straight to her. Mama Gussie was soft and warm and smelled like Jergens and vanilla, and she kissed Nicole on the cheek and then the other cheek and then held her face in both hands. “You’re too skinny.”

“Mama’s been telling me that since Thanksgiving.”

“Well, your mama’s right. We’re going to fix it.” Then her grandmother looked past her, at Drew, and the warmth didn’t leave her face, but something else came into it. Something careful.

She looked at him a long time. Up, since he was so tall. Then down, and up again. Drew just let her look, his hands at his sides, not even fidgeting, and Nicole was so proud of him she could hardly stand it.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” Drew said. “Nicole says you’re the best cook in Virginia.”

“Nicole’s right.” Mama Gussie didn’t take her eyes off him. “Well,” she said finally. She turned to Nicole. “Your mama told me he was white. I thought she was playing with me.”

“Mama,” her mother said.

“What? I’m just saying. I’m allowed to be surprised.” She turned back to Drew. “Come here, son. Let me look at you.”

Drew went over, and she tipped her head back. “You’re a lot taller than that last one she brought home.”

Drew pressed his lips together, but it didn’t help. A laugh got out of him anyway, through his nose, and he shot Nicole a look like he was already saving this one for later.

Nicole wanted to crawl under the kitchen table. “Mama Gussie.”

“What? It’s true.” Mama Gussie reached up and touched the thin pink line on his cheekbone. “What happened there?”

This time Drew didn’t look at Nicole. “Long story, ma’am.”

“Mm-hmm. I heard some of it.” She didn’t say whether she’d liked what she heard. “Who are your people? Where are you from?”

“Tommy and Donna Kiernan, ma’am, from Boston. My dad’s an electrician. My mom’s a bookkeeper for a construction company.”

“An electrician.” Her face softened. “That’s good, honest work.” She patted his arm, twice. “Well. You’re welcome in this house, Drew. You treat my grandbaby right, and we’ll get along fine. You don’t, and you’ll have to deal with me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Drew said, and Nicole was almost sure she saw the corner of his mouth go up. “That’s fair.”

“Of course it’s fair. I don’t do things that ain’t fair.” She went back to her cutting board. “Y’all go put your things up. Dinner’s at six. And Drew, I hope you eat, because I’ve been cooking all day, and ain’t nobody leaving my table hungry.”

“I eat, ma’am. Trust me.”

“Good. Go on.”

Nicole tugged him back toward the foyer before Mama Gussie could change her mind about anything. Her mother followed them out. MJ had disappeared, which meant he’d gone back to whatever game he’d been watching upstairs.

“Come on,” Nicole said, picking up her suitcase handle. “I’ll show you where to put your stuff. You’re in my room.”

“Excuse me?”

Mama Gussie had come up behind them with the dish towel over her shoulder. Nobody had heard her coming.