Chapter 2
“I’m telling you, Sid, if I catch the hound in my yard again, I’m going to kidnap her and send her off to the sausage factory,” Kaycee said between strides as she recalled the scenario of the night before. Although she was vexed, she truly wouldn’t make good on her threat; she actually loved dogs.
The pair were doing their once-a-week walk around Kaycee’s subdivision. Since Kaycee had left Carrington Financial and moved across town, the two friends had made it a point to spend one full day together at least once a month. Usually, that day consisted of sleepover, shopping, dinner at a nice restaurant and a movie or a visit to a club to hear their favorite jazz band.
The small subdivision with no more than forty homes was laid out in an elongated figure-eight pattern. Kaycee had calculated that five times around equaled five miles. Considering the night she’d had, she was glad to be able to walk off the energy she’d built up.
Sidra waved her hand at Kaycee, totally dismissing her comment. “Forget the dog, I want to hear about your neighbor again. Now, you said he came to the door butt naked?”
“Sidra, focus!” she reprimanded. Only Sidra would tune into one aspect of the story.
“How can I focus when naked men are answering doors in the neighborhood?” She looked around. “This is like some Desperate Housewives stuff over here.” She said with a laugh. “Maybe I need to get me a crib on Wisteria Lane, too.”
Kaycee shook her head with a smile. She had to love the woman she considered a sister. As they rounded the curve leading to her house, Kaycee’s heart began to thump wildly in her chest. What if he was home? What if he came outside showing off all of his glory like last night? What if—? In midthought she noticed that his garage door was open. She stumbled but recovered before Sidra noticed. Her friend was busy rambling on about her dating woes and hadn’t picked up on anything.
As they neared the house, Kaycee curiously looked over again just as someone exited through the garage. She quickly looked away. As she got closer, she peered up to see a man wearing a short-sleeved plaid shirt, old faded overalls and a brimmed hat, pushing a lawn mower. At first she thought it was the yardman, but to her surprise it was him.
It was like night and day. The man she’d seen the night before had been handsome, well-built and downright sexy; this man looked more like a farmer in the getup he was wearing.
Sidra noticed him, as well, and playfully nudged Kaycee in the side. “If that’s your naked man, then I’m going to have to take you to get your eyes checked.”
Kaycee gently pushed her away. “For one, he’s not my man, and for two, that is him.”
Sidra recoiled in disgust. “Eew. He looks like Mr. Green Jeans.”
“I know, but that’s him,” Kaycee said, not believing it herself. “That’s the same man.”
Just as she ended her words, Kendrick looked up, his eyes immediately resting on Kaycee, who was slightly behind Sidra. A smile curved his mouth and, looking pointedly at her, he called out, “My dog didn’t do it.”
Sidra nudged Kaycee in the side once more. “What is he talking about?”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Kaycee responded to him as they passed by.
“Whoa, why are you off in such a hurry?” he said, grabbing on to the straps of his overalls. The baggy material hid his physique so well that she wondered if she’d seen him right last night. “You gave me a real piece of your mind. I thought I’d made an enemy.”
“I don’t have enemies unless they try to press me on purpose,” she replied.
His face relaxed. “I want you to know that I’m sorry. I will pay for the damage done to your shoe. That doggone Tiki is going to get it.”
“Tiki?” Kaycee repeated. “Who is Tiki?”
“My dog. Her name is Tiki.”
“Tiki, how cute,” Kaycee gushed, momentarily forgetting her animosity toward the dog. Despite the farmer attire, she could see the appeal of the man who had answered the door last night shining through.
“You didn’t think so last night,” he replied.
Kaycee flushed with embarrassment as she recalled the previous evening’s scene in her mind.
“About last night—”
Kendrick cut her short with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Your feelings were totally justified.”
“So where is the little booger anyway?” Kaycee asked, purposely turning her face toward her house to make a point.
Kendrick shook his head, smiling at her obvious gesture.
“At the groomer’s.”
“You may want to look into obedience school,” Kaycee announced. “I think she’s been way too pampered.”
“There might be some truth to that,” he said with a laugh. “She did the same thing to the tenants who lived there before you.”
Sidra cleared her throat and grabbed Kaycee by the arm.
“Girl, let’s get out of here before he gets into some story,” she whispered. At the sight of Kaycee standing there smiling, she rolled her eyes and yanked her down the street.
“Sorry to interrupt this cute little tale but we really have to get going,” Sidra said. “We have a busy day ahead of us. You understand, don’t you?”
Kendrick’s brows raised skeptically, but before he could reply, Sidra already had them well on their way to Kaycee’s place.
“Sid, that was so rude,” Kaycee chastised her friend as they walked up the driveway.
Sidra waved off Kaycee’s comment. “Honey boom, that man wasn’t about nothing. Look at him—on second thought, don’t,” she added with a naughty giggle.
Despite Sidra’s insistence, Kaycee looked back to find Kendrick standing there smiling, and she smiled in return.
“I can’t believe that guy was flirting with you,” Sidra said as she peered into Kaycee’s refrigerator. She scanned the contents before selecting a bottle of water and an apple and closing the door with her hip.
“He was not flirting,” Kaycee replied. “He was just being neighborly.” She was glad her back was to Sidra because she couldn’t say the same about last night. Underneath the farmer getup was a very attractive man, wasn’t there?
Sidra rolled her eyes and sank her teeth into the crunchy fruit. “Come on, Kaycee, the man was all cheddar when he saw you.”
Kaycee took a seat on a stool at the breakfast bar and began riffling through some papers. “Sid, you know I’m not thinking about dating right now. I just got out of a long-term relationship—”
“Which is why you need to get back into the game before your skills get old,” Sidra interrupted.
“What?” Kaycee exclaimed, spinning around with her fists planted firmly on her hips. “I don’t need to do anything except focus on me. It’s all about Kaycee now.”
Sidra shook her head in disagreement. “See, girlfriend, that is where you are wrong. You have to balance your life, Kaycee. Too much work and not enough play can make you a dull girl and I, for one, don’t hang with dull folks. I have a guy who would be perfect for you.”
With a roll of her eyes, Kaycee marched into the family room and flopped down on the sofa, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “Sidra, I have way too much on my mind to try and be bothered with some man. I’m trying to secure some contracts, you know, grow my business. Now if any of these men can do that for me, then maybe we can talk.”
Sidra nodded her head slowly. “Actually, he might be able to do something.”
It wasn’t the answer Kaycee wanted to hear, but if it meant getting Sidra off her back then she’d pretend to listen.
“His name is Grant Craddock and he’s an engineer,” Sidra began.
“Sidra, what is so perfect about that? Paul was an engineer. Someone perfect would be a man who shares my interests.”
One of the problems that Kaycee and Paul had had was that they could never agree on how to spend their evenings. Paul was a big event attender. He preferred the benefits and balls to the football games and outdoor activities that Kaycee
liked. It was almost as if their sexual roles were reversed.
“Did I mention that he sits on the board of the Black Business Network?” Sidra asked with a roll of her neck, hoping to raise the stakes. “Give him a try. Kayce.”
Kaycee sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Grant is good people, plus he’s fine as wine. You know I’m your girl,” Sidra chided. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Actually you have,” Kaycee nodded. “Remember that fiasco with your cousin Rodney?”
Sidra’s face dropped and she held up her hands in protest. “Okay, okay, so I didn’t know he was gay. He did a good job hiding it from the family.”
“Sidra, you said he decorated his house himself and his color scheme was pink and lavender. Now if you ask me, that screams gay!”
“Okay, so I made one bad hit.”
“Don’t forget Brent the biologist,” Kaycee brought up another name. “I thought I’d have to move when I caught him sitting in his car outside my apartment after I told him I thought we should just be friends.”
“Okay, so I’m not perfect, but Grant is straight and he’s not a stalker. He doesn’t have kids and he’s never been married and he’s good-looking.”
“I’ve seen your version of good-looking,” Kaycee quipped. “The name Wayne comes to mind.”
“Oh, like yours is any better,” Sidra shot back. “Don’t forget the Farmer in the Dell next door.”
If Sidra had seen what Kaycee had last night, she would take back her words in a heartbeat. “Give me the number. I’ll do it this time, but you got to promise to stop worrying about my love life, okay?”
Sidra gleefully tore a piece of paper from a nearby notepad and jotted down Grant’s telephone number.
“So, are you going to call him tomorrow?” she asked, pushing the paper across the table toward Kaycee. “Maybe you could meet him for lunch.”
Kaycee shook her head.
“I’m going to stop by that spot, Café Jireh. I won’t have time for much else.”
Sidra’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I heard that place got it going on.”
“I did, too. I’m trying to jump on it before someone else gets any ideas. I think it would be a great networking opportunity.”
“That’s a good idea!” Sidra said with excitement. “But in the meantime, let me know how it goes with Grant.”
Chapter 3
The atmosphere at Café Jireh was like a warm hug, embracing Kaycee the minute she entered. She wasn’t sure if her feeling of being right at home derived from the distinct aroma of roasted Colombian coffee brewing or from the upbeat tempo of the contemporary jazz tune flowing from the sound system or from the eclectic gathering of people.
Café Jireh was the talk of the town. Although it had been open for six months, the buzz about the café’s concept was still making good reviews in local newspapers and was getting talked about in a variety of places from nightclubs and country clubs to church socials. There was a little bit of everyone reflected in the café’s welcoming walls.
The owner had definitely taken his mix of clientele into consideration, evident from the carefully selected decor. The building’s inside was just as impressive as the outside, with character beyond expectations. Light poured into the room through the stained-glass windows displaying colorful images of coffee cups, casting a myriad of colors across the maple-wood floors.
The chocolate-brown, black and orange coverings of the sofas and chairs in textures of velvet, suede and wood were classy yet cozy, like sipping hot chocolate while wearing your favorite sweater on a brisk fall day.
Kaycee particularly admired the candid black-and-white photos of men, women and children, done in the style of Gordon Parks, hanging strategically around the room on the exposed brick walls. For her, the selling point was the beautiful stone fireplace that tied everything together in a neat package.
Jireh had something for everyone and was a welcome relief for business professionals, college students and artists who had been searching for a reflection of the African-American culture on their own side of town. Finally, somebody had heard the cries of the people for quality in everything—shopping, dining, housing and education.
Kaycee had a sense of belonging when she entered through the doors that afternoon.
“Welcome to Café Jireh,” A petite woman with a wide friendly smile greeted in a soft Southern accent. “Is this your first time visiting with us?”
“Yes,” Kaycee answered. “I’ve heard so many good things about it that I just had to check it out for myself.”
The woman waved her closer. “Well, don’t stand way back there, come on up and let me take your order!”
Kaycee did as she was told and strolled up to the glass case to check out the breakfast pastries. Her smile slowly faded in disappointment at what she found. The plate of cinnamon buns with thick white frosting, the Danish with fruit in the center and some slices of pound cake wrapped in cellophane were all too common in black-owned establishments. Her expectations were higher for a place like Jireh.
Her eyes raised to meet the woman’s. “I don’t mean any harm, but is this all the desserts you have to offer?”
The greeter, whose name tag identified her as La Jetta, nodded.
Kaycee paused to search for words that wouldn’t sound as if she were putting the café down. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I expected more in way of desserts than cinnamon rolls and Danish. Do you have an in-house provider or do you buy outside?”
La Jetta glanced over her shoulder before leaning in toward Kaycee. “I’ve been trying to tell Mr. Rick that he needed to upgrade our dessert menu.”
“Who is Mr. Rick?”
“He’s the owner,” La Jetta replied. She reached under the counter, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Kaycee.
“From day one, he had someone doing the desserts, but things got all messy and he’s been buying from one of those wholesale clubs.”
Kaycee took the tan card. It was clean and simple with an image of a cup of coffee in the upper left corner and the owner’s information engraved in the center. Café Jireh Coffee House and Bistro. K. Thompson, Owner.
She shook her head. “That just won’t do.”
“We have this for a reason,” La Jetta said tapping her nail against the suggestion box on the end of the counter. “If a customer makes a comment, believe me, Mr. Rick will listen. He’s a good person and goes out of his way to please his customers.”
Kaycee hesitated. Her gut was telling her that this was a move she needed to make. She prayed for the opened door. Could she stand the chance of rejection again? The pain from her last meeting was still fresh. However, she reminded herself about why she was in business. Plenty of business owners experienced rejection, especially the most successful ones. All her working life, things had come easily for her, and now that she was embarking on new territory, she had to trust God and come up with a new game plan.
She extended her hand, “My name is Kaycee Jordan and I have a gourmet-dessert-and-event-planning business. I would really like to meet with—” she paused to look back at the card to recall the owner’s name “—Mr. Thompson to talk about how my company can assist him in this area.”
La Jetta shook her head. “I don’t know. Like I said, Mr. Rick was burned.”
“What happened?” Kaycee asked.
“I really can’t say, except that it really bothered him to the point that I don’t know if he wants to go there again.”
Kaycee sighed. “La Jetta, I believe in my product. All I need is a chance to show Mr. Thompson what I can do. I know that once he tries my desserts, he’ll be glad he did.”
“Really!” La Jetta exclaimed with excitement. “What do you specialize in?”
“Well, nobody has turned down my red velvet cheesecake,” Kaycee proudly replied, pulling out the big guns. Red velvet was one of those cakes that could make or break your business. Because they took so long to prepare and required the fin
est ingredients, bakers often shied away from them. But she had a prize-winning recipe that had been handed down from her great-grandmother.
“I never had red velvet cheesecake, but I love red velvet cake,” La Jetta said. “When are you coming back so I can make sure I’m here, too?”
Suddenly the old Kaycee with the Carrington golden tongue disappeared and all of the things that she’d learned in the marketing class offered through the small-business association escaped her. Suddenly, she could not remember how to sell herself, let alone her product. Her frozen state lasted for a brief moment before she remembered the promise that she had made to no longer struggle to be what others thought she should be. That part of her life was in the past. She had come too far not to be herself.
All I need to be is me, she recited in her mind. Her confidence won out and before she knew it, La Jetta was pulling out a calendar.
“Let’s see,” she began as she flipped through the daily pages. “We have a big shipment coming in tomorrow so that’s no good. We’ll be doing inventory all day. Why don’t you drop in next week? Mr. Rick is usually here by ten.”
“It’s okay to just drop by?” Kaycee asked. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Please,” La Jetta answered. “You’ll be fine. Besides, a little surprise every now and then won’t hurt anybody.”
Kaycee’s eyes lit up with excitement! “I will. Tell me, La Jetta, what is Mr. Thompson’s favorite dessert? I thought it would be a nice touch to include a sample of his favorite, as well.”
“He would like that,” La Jetta said with a laugh. “His favorite cake is coconut.”
“Oh, I have a coconut cake that will knock him off his feet,” Kaycee said. As she exited the establishment, she thanked God for making the divine connection. La Jetta hadn’t needed to tell her as much as she did. A rush of adrenaline waved through Kaycee and her confidence began to build. This time, she was going to take control and get some business.