A McClendon Thanksgiving Read online

  After trying on several options, he settled on black slacks and a gray, button-down shirt. Pulling on his trouser socks and shoes, he assessed himself in the mirror and smiled. He hadn’t felt this giddy in a long time. It’s just dinner, he told himself.

  Yanking at the cuff of his shirt, he adjusted his shoulders, allowing his body to fit the creases of the material. Once he was satisfied, he dabbed a little cologne on his wrists and made sure he didn’t overdo it. He picked up his keys from the counter and left the house.

  On his way to the McClendons’, he glanced down at the speedometer. Michael didn’t want to get a speeding ticket, so he lifted his foot off the accelerator, slowing the automobile down significantly. He blamed it on anxiousness over what the night might bring.

  Once he turned onto Baker Street, he began to reminisce about all the times he’d spent at the McClendon home. They were a tight-knit family, and he sometimes ate dinner with them during the week, some holidays too.

  He felt honored that her parents had trusted him to take Faith to school with him every day, even though she was younger, when they were in high school, treating him as part of their family. He and Faith had gotten into some trouble together as well, like the time he wanted Faith to come outside after dark. He recalled throwing a rock to tap her window, but it shattered the glass instead. He never could understand why that particular time it didn’t work like he’d seen in the movies.

  Being a gentleman, he didn’t want to blow the horn. He was going to go and get his date. Date? He remembered telling Faith that he wanted to take her out as his friend, nothing more. He’d have to remember that the rest of the evening. He turned off the ignition, jumped out the car and headed up the brick-lined sidewalk.

  Pressing the circle at the side of the door, he waited for someone to answer.

  Shortly, Russell McClendon came to the door. Russell was very fit for a sixty-year-old man, standing six feet two inches tall. The retired fireman had partnered with one of his buddies and opened a barbershop in their community recently.

  Michael respected Russell for the time he’d taken with him and the role he’d played in his life growing up. He always included Michael whenever he’d take Laurence fishing or to Cub Scout activities. If there was a father-son gathering, Russell would be there, representing both Laurence and Michael. As he got older, Michael loved listening to Russell’s advice, especially when he told Laurence and him that a real man takes care of his family. Michael was also honored when Russell and his business partner, Fred, asked him to take the photos needed for their advertising materials for the barbershop.

  From the stories Michael’s mother told him about his father, John, he and Russell McClendon had the same kind of heart. One that Michael hoped he had as well.

  “Michael.” Russell gave him a genuine smile as he opened the door wider.

  Michael extended his hand. “Good to see you, Mr. McClendon.”

  Russell accepted his hand and shook it vigorously. “Same here, son. Come on in, she’ll be down in a minute.”

  They walked down to the lower-level family-room area, which had since been updated with new paint and furnishings. He and Laurence had spent a lot of time in that family room, watching television and movies, playing pool and, most importantly, doing their homework after school.

  Michael sat on one end of the sectional, Russell on the other.

  “So, you and Faith going out?”

  It had never occurred to Michael to question what her parents might think of his coming to pick her up after being absent from her life for so long, but they both were grown. “Yes, sir, we’re going to Gibsons.”

  “She loves that place, so that’s great. I’m glad you’re here for her. I’m sure it will seem like old times.”

  Michael nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  The flat-screen television on the wall had captured both of their attention when Faith descended the stairs.

  Russell glanced in her direction and stood before turning to Michael. “Have a good time, you two.” He reached over and extended his hand to Michael. “Don’t be a stranger.” With that, he left the two young people alone.

  Michael jumped to his feet and for a second he felt like a teenager coming to pick up his prom date. He recalled not being this nervous when they went to the prom. But today he was mesmerized by her presence, the faint smell of her floral perfume and the sparkling smile she had on her lips.

  With her hair pulled back off her face, into a sophisticated bun, she wore a delicate pair of small gold hoop earrings that dangled from her ears, giving her a classy look.

  “You ready to go, Mikey. I mean Michael,” Faith said, correcting herself, then giggled.

  “It’s okay, Faith,” Michael assured her.

  Watching her sniggle, he reminded himself that he hadn’t been around Faith in some time and she had truly grown into a very sensual woman. Her navy-blue, A-line skirt fit her in all the right places, and the white blouse she wore hugged her breasts, causing the material to rise and fall as she breathed.

  Closing the space between them, Michael stood in front of her mesmerized. “You look so beautiful, Faith,” he said, observing her outfit.

  Faith dropped her head for a second and recovered, lifting her chin, looking Michael in the eyes. “Thanks so much for the compliment.”

  Michael flicked his wrist to check the time. If they didn’t leave now, they would be late for their reservation. “We need to get out of here, just in case the traffic is heavy tonight.”

  Faith smiled. “Okay, I’m ready.” She walked up the stairs and out the front door, with Michael following behind her.

  Gibsons was a popular classic-American restaurant with great food, service and atmosphere. With several locations to choose from, the one most popular—the Gold Coast spot on Rush Street—was frequented by celebrities like Johnny Depp, Michael Jordan, Jay-Z and Beyoncé and by everyday people with families. Well known for their USDA Prime steaks, side dishes large enough to share and impressively enormous desserts, Gibsons had become one of the leading downtown restaurants.

  Even though it didn’t have a dress code, they did have valet parking, which Michael took advantage of after he and Faith drove up and couldn’t find a parking space. But he reminded himself that it was Saturday evening, so the restaurant was busier than usual.

  Once inside, Michael watched Faith’s hips sway gently and his eyes fell on her shapely, long and sexy legs as she walked in her navy, high-heeled pumps to their table on the second floor. A heavyset gentleman wearing a black tuxedo with tails sat at a piano, moving his fingers fluidly across the keys, serenading the customers as they enjoyed their meals.

  Michael pulled out Faith’s chair, waiting for her to sit. Her perfume assailed his senses the moment she moved closer; the way her skirt hugged her hips didn’t get past him, either.

  “Thank you,” she said softly while sitting.

  Michael walked around to the other side of the table and sat down, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. Each time Faith would look in his direction, he’d turn his head, hoping she hadn’t caught him stealing a glance.

  The sommelier handed them leather-bound menus. Michael ordered a bottle of Ferrari-Carano Fumé Blanc. He scanned the spacious room with its celebrity-autographed images that lined the walls, noticing the many couples dining, having a good time together.

  The server returned with the wine for their table, showing the bottle to Michael first before pouring just enough for him to taste first. Michael took a sip and nodded to the server, who then filled Faith’s glass halfway, then Michael. As they both scanned the menu, Michael kept sneaking a glance at Faith, watching her facial expressions while she tried to decide what to order.

  Laying his menu to the side, he asked, “What are you in the mood for?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t been here in so long. I kno
w that the filet mignon is excellent, fork-tender, but so is the seafood,” Faith replied.

  In the end, she ordered the filet with a Cajun rub, and a twice-baked potato; Michael had the filet mignon.

  Faith leaned forward. “You know you were right,” she said plainly.

  At first, Michael had no idea what she was referring to, but as he gazed into her dark-brown eyes, which were shaded with regret, it was evident.

  Faith lifted her glass and twirled the red wine around before taking a sip. “You can go ahead and say it.” She sighed before taking another sip.

  “Say what?” Michael didn’t want to be right about Kevin, because being right about something as delicate as loving the wrong person wasn’t a victory if it meant losing her affection.

  Faith sighed again and rolled her eyes at him. “You tried to warn me about Kevin.” She placed the glass down on the table, stroking the stem before looking away.

  Michael didn’t want Faith to feel any type of regret when it came to him because he understood that at the time she was happy and in love. He reached across the table, placing his hand on top of her free one, searching for her eyes, urging her to look at him.

  “I would never say that.” He squeezed her hand for reassurance since it was important that she trust him. “You know we’ve been friends and will always be friends. You could have called me, Faith.”

  Slipping her hand from his, Faith lowered her eyes then lifted her head, meeting his gaze. “I was embarrassed because you had already told me. We lost our friendship because of that,” she admitted, tears glistening in her eyes.

  Just as Michael reached across the table, their orders arrived. After serving the food, the waiter left, giving Michael the chance to pick up where he’d left off.

  Michael leaned forward and looked into eyes that were fighting to keep the tears at bay. “You don’t have to worry about that. We’re here, together now.”

  Sitting up straight, he rested against the back of his seat, lifted his wineglass and took a tiny sip. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since you moved back to Chicago?”

  A smile touched the corners of her lips. “I really want to open my own shop.”

  “Your own dress shop?” Michael clarified.

  Faith gave him a wide smile and nodded.

  “Wow, that’s awesome,” he said. Since they were young, Faith had wanted to have her own clothing store. She always had sketches in her notebook.

  “Yes, I have an appointment with a realtor to look at some places next week.”

  “Please keep me up to speed on your progress,” Michael said.

  “I also need to find an apartment.” She shook her head. “While I love my mother, I don’t need to stay there too long. I guess I’m just used to being on my own and doing things the way I like to do them.”

  “I hear you. That’s why I don’t live with my mother, either.” Margaret Montgomery didn’t mince words; she wanted you to do what she said.

  After finishing their meals, Michael took Faith back to her parents’ house.

  Michael parked his car along the curb in front of the house, got out the car and opened the door for Faith. They walked up to the door of the two-story home.

  Michael understood that he was going to take a big risk with his next move. He had wanted to kiss Faith since picking her up earlier, but decided it wouldn’t be right. He didn’t know how she felt about moving on, or if she was even ready.

  Even though he questioned himself, he leaned down, caressed her cheek before brushing a soft, chaste kiss there. “This was nice. Can we do it again soon?”

  He wanted to take her in his arms, taste her lips, tell her how he really felt about her, but thought better of it. Even during her absence, he’d tried to forget about her, but his crush hadn’t lessened, and now that she was single, maybe he had a chance.

  Faith hugged him, resting her head on his shoulders before stepping back. “It was so good hanging out with you tonight, but I’m pretty tied up this coming week.”

  Michael’s heart pounded in his chest and without thinking he licked his lips as his gaze held hers. He stepped closer to her, leaned forward and captured her lips in a brief kiss. He couldn’t help himself, and watched her reaction to gauge if she hadn’t liked it.

  “Call me when you’re free or I’ll call you,” Michael suggested, stepping back, quickly brushing off her nonresponse.

  “Okay,” Faith said before turning to unlock the door.

  Michael waited until she was inside before he stepped off the porch and went to his car. The evening had ended successfully, and even though he hadn’t planned on the kiss, he didn’t regret it.

  Surprised that the house was so quiet when she walked in, Faith carefully walked up the stairs to her bedroom, hoping not to wake anyone. As soon as she hit the switch on the wall, the room was illuminated by light showcasing a lovely retreat-like atmosphere.

  Gone were the matching white-oak canopy twin beds she and Patrice used to share, replaced with a queen-sized, cherrywood four-poster bed with matching armoire. Her mother had taken down the old pink, sparkly wallpaper, opting for a more sophisticated paint color that matched the drapery-and-bedding ensemble. A flat-screen television was mounted on the wall for viewing pleasure. Scented candles and sensual aromatic oils Faith was sure came from the family’s business, Good Scents Aromatherapy and Day Spa, were placed in the adjoining bath.

  Faith cleansed her face with a favorite scented facial scrub Patrice created just for her, removing any residue, after rinsing, with a big, fluffy towel. Stopping her routine, she glanced at herself in the mirror, wondering if the changes she felt on the inside showed on the outside. She was stronger, more confident, self-assured and was going to make her dreams come true.

  Picking up the towel and her personal items, she flicked off the light in the bathroom and moved back to the bedroom. She picked up her tablet, sat cross-legged in the bed and pressed the Power button. She had so much to think about, so many things she wanted to do, but at the moment her mind was on her longtime friend, Michael.

  When she first laid eyes on him at the club the other night, something filled her with yearning for his soothing, comforting voice. She hadn’t realized before that it was missing, but as far back as she could remember, anytime Michael was around things were much calmer. Faith could always depend on his honesty and the frank way in which he gave her the truth.

  Tonight he was such a gentleman, opening the door and pulling out her chair at the restaurant. His understanding nature and willingness to forgive her for turning her back on him nearly caused her to break down this evening, but she couldn’t cry in front of him. Michael was such a sweetheart and Faith appreciated him for changing the subject.

  Faith hadn’t realized she’d been just staring at her tablet for the past ten minutes. She told herself to focus on her tasks, but she kept thinking about Michael instead. She had to admit that the kiss he laid on her lips, no matter how brief, surprised her and made her stomach flutter. She had to put any feelings other than mutual friendship aside because Michael had never treated her any other way. They were getting reacquainted and maybe he kissed all his friends in that manner, since it was a soft kiss that ended as quickly as it began.

  Shrugging off all feelings and thoughts of Michael, she searched her email account for anything new from Maria Tanner, her realtor. Two unread messages boldly illuminated at the top of the list, so Faith clicked on the first one, which confirmed their eight-thirty appointment to see a second-floor apartment in the Bronzeville area.

  The link embedded in the email provided all the information about the place Faith needed. From the photos, the place looked like it was in tip-top condition, with brand-new hardwood floors, stainless-steel appliances and—the best part—it had three bedrooms. Faith had planned to use one for herself, one for guests and the other as her sewing room and home o
ffice.

  The subsequent email was about a building available for lease for the boutique, located not far from the Good Scents store over in the Gold Coast District. It was situated on a corner lot, with huge display windows, and looked promising. Faith couldn’t wait to see it and now she couldn’t sleep.

  She hit the button on the table lamp next to the bed, got up to turn off the overhead light so the room wouldn’t be so bright. Picking up the remote control, Faith pressed the Power for the television, slid underneath the covers, stretched out and tried to relax. Morning would greet her soon and she couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Four

  Faith hurried through breakfast, excited to get to the first showing over in Bronzeville. Grabbing the keys to the spare car from the hook in the kitchen, she picked up her things and headed out. She was so grateful that her father had just purchased a Chevy Silverado, allowing her use of the Nissan Maxima. But as soon as possible she was going to lease a car for herself.

  When she pulled up to the limestone-brick building, Faith spotted a blonde woman getting out of her car. She assumed the woman was her realtor. The lady wore a slim-fitting navy skirt with a white blouse, sensible hosiery and shoes.

  “Good morning,” the woman said. Approaching Faith’s car, she extended her hand.

  Faith got out of the car. “Good morning,” she said in return, accepting the woman’s hand, shaking it firmly.

  Maria handed Faith a printout with all the details of the apartment, so she could take notes if she wanted. “It is so nice to finally meet you in person,” the realtor said with a smile.

  “Same here. It’s great to put a face with a name, Maria.”

  “I’m excited to show you this property, but, remember, we have one other to see as soon as we’re done here,” Maria said, walking toward the building.