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flab anywhere on his fit frame. His mustard-colored turtleneck sweater and dark brown pants were even more stylish than the cream-colored suit his son wore. He seemed to gain better posture when he spied Desmond at the podium, when the reality set in that his suit was indeed more stylish than his son’s.
    Felicia, at eighteen, was budding into more of a womanly flower with each passing day. It bothered Desmond that she favored close-fitting blouses that showed her full bosom, not that they could be hidden under a baggy shirt, and pants and skirts that showed off the bubble of her behind. Unlike the other Ruckers, Felicia was a shade lighter. She had large, oval eyes, a thin nose and full lips. She was a touch taller than her mother and had broken all of their hearts by moving to New York City in September to accept a modeling contract. She relished the role of heartbreaker.
    Desmond was about to greet his family but then a fourth person stepped forward. Desmond’s tongue froze and a mystified look held his face captive. Nora Claxton came in on the heels of his parents and sister. Nora’s skin was the color of caramel, her eyes a grayish, bluish, greenish conglomeration. She didn’t have Mrs. Rucker’s height, but carried the same dignity and straight posture. In a past-gone lifetime, she was Desmond’s wife-to-be. She smiled at him now, warmed by his surprised look, his gaping mouth.
    While the Ruckers scoped the restaurant, Nora was the first one of the group to speak. “Beautiful place you have here, Des.”
    â€œThanks,” he managed to say.
    The trio of blood relatives then engulfed Desmond. His mother placed a tattoo of red lips on his cheek; his father offered a firm handshake, seemingly trying to crush Desmond’s hand in his grip, and his sister served up a coy smile as she wrapped him quickly in her arms and then stood just a few feet back from the others.
    Desmond stood watching them and so Karen pushed forward and extended her hand. “I’m Karen, the hostess,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about all of you.” She scanned Nora and tried unsuccessfully not to crinkle her nose. “Most of you,” she added.
    Desmond sprung to life. “Um, Karen, would you show my family to their seats? I’ll join you all in a minute.” He looked at his sister. “Felicia, may I speak with you a moment?”
    Karen ushered them to a reserved table in the back of the restaurant. On the way, she stopped one of the waitresses and subtly asked her to add another place setting at the Rucker table.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Desmond asked Felicia, back at the front.
    â€œWe’re here to get our eat on,” Felicia said.
    â€œYou know what I mean,” Desmond answered. “With Nora?”
    Felicia looked in the direction of her seated family and the sister-in-law that wouldn’t be. “Oh, her? I honestly couldn’t tell you. From what I gather, she was speaking to Mommy and sort of invited herself when she found out they were coming. You know she really must have wanted to see you if she’d put up with Daddy for an entire car ride.”
    â€œFigures,” Desmond sighed. “This is uncomfortable.”
    â€œWhy?” Felicia scanned the restaurant with the flair of a soap opera actress. “You got some other hoochie up in here waiting on you?”
    â€œI don’t do the hoochies,” Desmond said, “and you know it. It’s uncomfortable, considering the circumstances of my relationship with Nora and how it ended.”
    â€œOh, you mean the canceled wedding. Daddy was the only person happy about your failed nuptials if I recall.”
    â€œIt was for the best,” Desmond defended.
    â€œNo argument from me on it being the best for Nora,” Felicia said, “but you might want to send Ms. Nora another candygram. I don’t think the sistah got the message. She was Des-this-ing and