Chapter One – November 23

Bridgewater, New Jersey, is the type of place you raise a good family in.  It’s full of nice homes and nice schools and nice people.  Everything’s nice.  Everything’s perfunctory.  Everything’s normal, and that’s what Chester Jerome Taylor, Sr. and Anna Maria Moretti Taylor wanted for their family:  normalcy.  Or at least the appearance of it.

For over thirty years, Chester and Anna Maria loved each other fiercely despite the naysayers who didn’t understand how a beautiful Italian woman would ever want a black man, regardless if he was a strong, good one.  The love that connected them trickled down into their love for their children, of whom they distilled morals, values, conviction, and the importance of doing their absolute best in everything.  Their children didn’t fail them.

As the whole Taylor clan sat around the expansive oak table laden with Thanksgiving eateries, Chester and Anna Maria couldn’t help but to smile and feel their chests swell with the pride of knowing they had raised four children who grew up to do wonderful things:  their eldest, CJ, was a well-loved police officer; Santana Maria, their eldest daughter was a doctor; their son, Jordan Payne, was a high-level bank executive; and their daughter, Ladoña Maria, the baby of the family, was an English professor.

“Let us pray,” Chester said in a booming baritone voice.  Each family member took another’s hand and bowed heads.  “Heavenly Father.  Thank you for this wonderful meal that Anna Maria and my girls have prepared.  Thank you for allowing us all to be here, healthy and happy.  We will continue to honor You all the days of our lives.  Amen.”

“Amen,” the others repeated.

“Let’s eat,” Jordan yelled, rubbing his hands together.

He reached for a turkey leg, but his mother smacked his hand with the gravy ladle.

“Ragazzo, act like you have some sense, please,” his mother chastised.

“He would have to have some sense first,” Santana chided.

Ladoña lifted her wine glass with pale, thin fingers.  After taking a small sip, she quietly piled a few tastes of everything on her plate.

“I swear you eat like a bird,” Brenda said to her.

Ladoña turned, staring at Brenda’s belly, which was round and tight.  She smiled as she saw CJ’s protective arm traipsed over the back of Brenda’s chair.
Married for five years, Brenda and CJ were finally bringing a grandchild to the family.  It would be a girl, which excited the women and silently saddened the men:  boys, so they thought, were better to carry on family traditions.

“Brenda,” Ladoña said as she picked at a roll, “you’re about to pop any minute.  You’re eating for two.  I’m only eating for one.”

“More like half of one,” Jordan said, chuckling.  “With your bony ass.”

“Watch your mouth,” Chester said.

Ladoña quickly stuck her tongue out at a sulking Jordan before laughing.  She always found it amusing how just being back in the family home reduced them all to kids though at 28, she was the youngest person in the house.

“I can’t help it if I’m small,” she said.  “I get it from Mama.”

And she did.  She, like Santana, inherited their mother’s slender frame, olive complexion, and small bump on the bridge of the nose.  They also inherited her huge black eyes and long, dark hair though Santana had to perm hers to keep it straight and manageable, and Ladoña had her famous silver streak that went the length of her thick, black mane.  Her parents often told her she was born an old soul, knowing far too much for someone of her age.

“And you’re beautiful anyway,” CJ said, giving Ladoña wink.  “Don’t listen to your knucklehead brother.”

“Hey, this knucklehead cleared a quarter of a mill so far this year.”

Chester raised his fork, silencing everyone.  “No talk of money around the table.”

Ladoña raised her eyes to her father and took in the piece of turkey dangling on the fork, threatening to fall into the bowl of sweet potatoes.  She stifled a laugh.  The small grin that graced her full lips faltered when she spotted the small tattoo on his left wrist.  She quickly glanced at everyone at the table except Brenda, and though she couldn’t see them, she knew they all had it.  A tiny, black, broken heart on the inside of their left wrist.  She didn’t have one.  She wouldn’t have one.  Not as long as her father kept her out of the business.  Not as long as she allowed him to keep her out of the business.

Everyone quieted and commenced to eating.

“Answer your phone, baby,” Jordan’s sexy ring tone whispered.  “Answer your phone, baby.”

Jordan smirked.  “Sorry.  I should answer that.”  He removed the cell from its case on his hip and said, “Hello?”  He listened for a moment and nodded his head.  Both Chester and CJ took in every gesture made by Jordan.  “Got it.  See you then.”

When he hit End, Jordan smiled.  “Hell yes.  Got me some shit to do.”

“Jordan,” his mother warned.

“Dang y’all,” Jordan said.  “You act like people don’t curse.”

“For one,” his father said, “you’re talking like you don’t know anything about English.  Dang?  Got me some shit to do?”

“With an English professor in the house at that,” Ladoña added.

“You know how you act at work?” Santana asked before flipping a lock of hair over her shoulder.

“Yeah, and?” Jordan said.

“That’s what we expect in the house.  It’s about being bilingual.”

Silence ensued, followed by laughter.

“I’m serious,” Santana continued.  “And you all know I’m telling the truth.  We have our business language, our friend language, our family language.  Mama and Papa would prefer we talk like we each received a good education.”

“Exactly,” Chester said.  “Those educations were not free.”

“Except for Ladoña’s,” CJ said, grinning.

“Well that’s because she’s our little ingegna,” their mother said.

Ladoña blushed.  “So,” she said, changing the subject, “who was on the phone?”

Jordan immediately switched moods; in a dark, quiet voice, he said, “I have some business to take care of.  Will you all excuse me for a minute, please?”  He stood and looked at Chester and CJ.  “Pops, CJ, I need to talk to you both for a second.”

Brenda took CJ’s hand and asked, “What’s wrong?  Is everything okay?”

CJ smiled and tenderly kissed her forehead.  “Everything’s fine, baby,” he replied.  He rubbed her belly through her beige silk dress for good measure.  “I’ll be right back.”

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