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From Signs of Light
Chapter One
Lorna Hamilton peered out the storefront window of Nana's Gourmet Bakery, watching people leisurely making their way along North Main Street in downtown Woodlake, North Carolina. She scrunched up her face as she eyed the two women standing just beyond the entrance of her bakery.
"Doris, just look at them," she grumbled to the employee standing beside her. "They just left the hair salon across the street. Hair all done up, and look at those bloodred nails . . . long as all get-out. They getting all fixed up on our tax dollars. Money s'posed to be for the kids."
Doris nodded in agreement, muttering, "A bunch of lazy good-for-nothings, if you ask me. Don't wanna work -- just wanna lay around getting a check. I have a job and can't get no help to pay for childcare. Social Services got me on a waiting list. People like them don't have job the first and can get childcare. It's not fair at all."
One of the women outside turned in their direction, as if she could hear them talking.
Lorna quickly averted her gaze. She and Doris pretended like they were discussing the elegant wedding cake displayed in the window.
Outside the shop, one of the women waved off her friend, then walked toward the entrance.
"I don't know why she keeps coming in here," Lorna uttered. "She don't ever buy nothing."
Despite her personal feelings, Lorna's mouth turned upward into a smile as soon as the young woman entered through the double doors. "Good afternoon," she greeted. "What can I get for you today?"
"I'm just looking." The girl grunted, switching her Gucci handbag from one shoulder to the other.
Lorna couldn't help but wonder how she got anything done with those long nails of hers. Long and frosted in a soft pink color.
Lorna didn't take her eyes off the bubble-gum popping, weave-wearing, designer-bag-toting welfare recipient walking back and forth eyeing the cakes and cheesecakes through the marble and glass display counter.
The woman's two-toned copper-colored weave was styled high, and instead of the conservative suits and comfortable shoes most women who worked downtown wore, she had on a pair of denim jeans that rested low on her hips, paired with a pink tank that looked two sizes too small. Assorted rings adorned her fingers, while a thick gold necklace hung around her neck. The focal point of her bare midriff was her belly ring.
Unconsciously, Lorna compared herself to the young woman. She was pleased that at forty-two she could still catch the eye of men half her age. Her caramel complexion was smooth and even-toned. For work, her long, sandy brown hair had been styled into an old-fashioned bun and covered with a hairnet. She'd been spared the subtle signs of aging -- tiny pouches beneath her dark brown eyes, stretch marks, sagging breasts and cellulite. With a measure of pride, Lorna credited her youthful appearance to having never worn makeup and strong family genetics. Her late grandmother had never had wrinkles and looked years younger than her advanced age of eighty-two.
"You have any more of the chocolate cream cheesecake?"
Lorna's head snapped up from staring down at the young woman's French-manicured toenails and high-heeled sandals. "I'm out. Sorry."
"When do you think you might have some more?"
"Maybe tomorrow," Lorna replied. "The chocolate cream cheesecake never lasts long. Most of my customers special order it, or they purchase a whole one."
"How much for a whole chocolate cream cheesecake then?"
"Twenty-six dollars for a two-pound cheesecake," Lorna quoted. "Thirty-six dollars for three pounds and forty-four for a four-pound cheesecake."
Frowning, the young woman muttered, "For cheesecake . . . Y'all too high for me. I can make a whole one at home for about three dollars. Just get one of them kits in the grocery store."
Then go get one, Lorna wanted to shout. It won't come close to one of mine.
A few minutes later, the woman left the shop, still grumbling about the price.
Lorna turned to Doris. "This is a gourmet bakery. She know good and well she wasn't gonna buy a thing when she walked herself into this shop. Coming in here, wasting my time."
"Here comes that Melita Dawson," Doris announced. "With her nasty attitude."
Lorna groaned. "Not today." Melita was their most difficult customer.
"How y'all doin?" Melita said as she stepped into the bakery.
"We're just fine," Lorna responded. "How are you?"
"I'd be okay if your employee wasn't staring at me like I'm from the moon." Melita folded her arms across her chest, eyeballing Doris. "You sho' must like what you see. Take a picture -- it'll last longer."
Doris opened her mouth to respond, but Lorna quickly cut her off by asking, "What can I get for you, Melita?" To Doris, she said, "Could you check on the cupcakes in the oven for me?"
Melita waited until Doris was out of sight, then said, "My boo wants me to pick him up four slices of your white chocolate and strawberry cheesecake. You got any? The last time I came through you didn't. He was hot when I got home and didn't have no cheesecake with me."
"We have plenty today. Will there be anything else?"
"Let me think on it for a moment."
Melita strutted around the shop, fingering the straps of her Louis Vuitton purse. Lorna noticed that Melita wore matching shoes and had on a necklace with the initials LV. Everything the woman had on seemed to have somebody else's name on it, yet she'd never known Melita to hold down a job. Lorna had met Melita years ago when she and her mother had lived across the street from Nana's.
Even as a young child, Melita had been hard to control. Her mother had finally given up and thrown Melita out of the house when she was around fifteen or sixteen.
"Do you have any pecan pie?"
"I do," Lorna responded. "Would you like a slice?"
"Naw. I want to buy a whole one."
"How's your mother doing?" Lorna inquired as she packaged up Melita's selections.
"I guess she all right. We ain't speaking right now. She always trying to be up in my business, like she know what's good for me. Humph. I'm grown."
"It's because she loves you, Melita. Your mother only wants the best for you."
"What she thinks is best, you mean. I don't need her to try and raise me now. I'm -- "
"Grown," Lorna finished for her. "Yes, you've said that."
Melita glared at her. "Why everybody always trying to take her side? Miss Lorna, I don't ask my mama for nothin'. I take care of my three children myself."
"Are you working?"
"No."
"Then you're not really taking care of your children by yourself, dear. You're getting assistance from the government."
"You know what I mean."
Lorna met the young woman's gaze straight on. "Melita, you have a good head on your shoulders. Why don't you at least take some classes and get a trade?"
"I hate school, Miss Lorna. I ain't going to no school. That's out of the question."
"Then why don't you get a job?"
"My boo takes care of me and my children."
"What happens if you two break up?"
Melita frowned. "You sound just like Mama. Y'all just don't understand."
"Melita, if you don't get a job soon, you're gonna lose your day-care assistance. You know that, don't you?"
"I just got it extended for another thirty days," Melita responded with a smirk. "I do enough looking to satisfy my worker. I can't help it if no one will hire me."
Lorna wanted to strangle Melita. Here was a young, able-bodied woman who could go out and work, but what did she do? Nothing. Because of her cheating, someone who was really deserving of childcare assistance couldn't get it and was placed on a waiting list.
Lorna totaled Melita's purchases. "Twenty-four dollars and fifteen cents is your total."
Melita handed her a hundred-dollar bill.
"Why you looking at that money like that?" she demanded. "It's real."
"I check all the money that comes across my counter."
"Miss Lorna, don't try to be funny with me."
Placing her hands on her hips, Lorna eyed the young woman. "Melita, why do you always come in my shop with an attitude? Every time you come in here you try to start something."
"No, I don't," Melita shot back. "Y'all just think y'all better than me and always giving me those funny looks. You need to leave me alone. You ain't seen me with an attitude. Humph. I can show you attitude."
Lorna made change and handed it to Melita. "You have a nice day."
"Just because you own this ba -- "
Lorna cut her off by saying, "Bye, Melita." Her tone left no room for argument.
Melita left, muttering a string of curses on her way out of the shop.
Doris walked out of the kitchen, saying, "One day, I'ma take that girl by the throat and swing her all over this shop. She gets on my nerves with that mouth of hers. Acting like the world owe her something when all she do is sit on her rump collecting a check and getting money from that thug of a boyfriend."
Lorna was in full agreement. "I can't count how many girls just like her come in here. I'm sick and tired of our tax dollars going to folks like that."
They fell silent when another customer entered the shop pushing a stroller. Lorna's gaze traveled to the little bald-headed boy with big brown eyes and dimpled cheeks. She estimated his age to be no more than four or five. His sickly appearance was a sharp contrast to the healthy glow of the deep mahogany complexion of his mother. She was thin but didn't look like she'd missed any meals.
Another one of those women, Lorna surmised. She probably spent her check on her waist-length braids, ugly gold earrings and bracelets dangling on her arm. From the looks of it, she spent more on herself than that poor child.
"Can I help you with anything?" Doris inquired.
"Just looking," the girl mumbled.
Lorna suspected as much.
A few minutes later, the young woman checked her watch, and said, "Oops, we gotta go, Kendall. It's almost time for the bus."
The little boy gave Lorna a warm smile and slight wave before his mother whirled the stroller around and headed toward the door.
Doris backed away from the display she'd...
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