back stepping around him, to pad across the carpet to the window beside the sofa, stuffing the paper in her dress pocket. Why did that bother her more than the money? She stared out over the estate grounds tapping a finger on the windowsill. “You remarried?” She could hear his shoes scuffing over the rug. He stood directly behind her, his hand on her shoulder now.
“She's a good woman,” he said his love for his wife evident in the kind tone. “She picked out that pearl necklace you're wearing,” he started. She grasped the string of beads around her neck caressing their slick surface between her fingers..
“Katherine and Marcus gave me this for my promotion a few months ago.”
Steve smiled. “They bought the earrings. My Salma and I bought the necklace.”
Tucking her chin down to her chest, she held the string of pearls out admiring the color. She felt a sliver of unease under her skin, for loving the gift she thought was from her parents. “I love the richness of black pearls not to mention I wear a lot of gray. I wear it all the time...thank you.” It was her favorite piece of jewelry. She twisted at the waist then turned to sit on the windowsill, then moved to the chair instead, agreeing the sill was too narrow for her hips. “Tell your wife I said she has nice taste...in jewelry...and men.”
Steve grinned just enough for her to see the corner of his mouth tweak up. “I'll tell her. She chose the black pearls over the regular white ones saying they complimented your complexion.”
Her fingers stopped moving over the beads. “Your wife knows what I look like?”
He knelt before her on the floor hands braced to the chair cushion. “After I retired and moved out of the Middle East, I started carrying pictures of my children. Katherine's kept me updated through the last couple years.”
“Mhmm,” she sighed. A headache pushed at her temple.
He pulled out a picture from his wallet and Kenya held up a hand shaking her head. Steve slid the photo back into the sleeve of his wallet. “I know I'm throwing a lot at you...”
That was the understatement of the year. “Do you have other children?”
“No...When you're ready my wife and I are staying in one of the hotels by the shore. I wanted to talk to you alone first.”
Kenya shot a glance to the window then Steve. “She's here in Ireland?”
“She's in the lobby...felt you and I needed a minute alone first. She's a good woman, Kenya. I'll always love your mother, no one will change that, but I was tired of being alone.”
“What’s her name again?” she prodded.
“Salma,” he said holding her hands between his.
“Is that, Italian?”
“African,” he corrected. “She wants to meet you.”
She rubbed a knuckle under her nose. “Might as well.”
She watched as he left the room then less than a minute later the door opened and a tall lean woman stepped inside crossing the room to Kenya. Nothing special about her features yet she held an openness about her Kenya found pleasing.
“Hi, Salma, I’m Kenya Blakemore,” she said as pleasantly as possible.
“Kenya, I’m glad to finally meet you. You look so much like your mother.”
“My mother?” she questioned.
“There's pictures of all of you in our family room back home in France.” Kenya shot a glance to Steve and he shrugged and sat on the sofa.
“France is where we met. I traveled a lot,” he said. “I know you have a lot going on right now, Kenya, but if there’s anything I can do to help you through what has to be a terrible ordeal, don’t hesitate to ask.”
She peeked at the clock. “Right now I’m waiting on a call, but if you two don't have to leave right away...stay for dinner, later we can talk more.”
Salma's mouth tweaked up on the corners. “That’s all we want, is to get to know you,” Salma said and before Kenya could respond, the shrill of the phone had her jerking around. She darted across the room to grab up the receiver.
“Kenya
“She's a good woman,” he said his love for his wife evident in the kind tone. “She picked out that pearl necklace you're wearing,” he started. She grasped the string of beads around her neck caressing their slick surface between her fingers..
“Katherine and Marcus gave me this for my promotion a few months ago.”
Steve smiled. “They bought the earrings. My Salma and I bought the necklace.”
Tucking her chin down to her chest, she held the string of pearls out admiring the color. She felt a sliver of unease under her skin, for loving the gift she thought was from her parents. “I love the richness of black pearls not to mention I wear a lot of gray. I wear it all the time...thank you.” It was her favorite piece of jewelry. She twisted at the waist then turned to sit on the windowsill, then moved to the chair instead, agreeing the sill was too narrow for her hips. “Tell your wife I said she has nice taste...in jewelry...and men.”
Steve grinned just enough for her to see the corner of his mouth tweak up. “I'll tell her. She chose the black pearls over the regular white ones saying they complimented your complexion.”
Her fingers stopped moving over the beads. “Your wife knows what I look like?”
He knelt before her on the floor hands braced to the chair cushion. “After I retired and moved out of the Middle East, I started carrying pictures of my children. Katherine's kept me updated through the last couple years.”
“Mhmm,” she sighed. A headache pushed at her temple.
He pulled out a picture from his wallet and Kenya held up a hand shaking her head. Steve slid the photo back into the sleeve of his wallet. “I know I'm throwing a lot at you...”
That was the understatement of the year. “Do you have other children?”
“No...When you're ready my wife and I are staying in one of the hotels by the shore. I wanted to talk to you alone first.”
Kenya shot a glance to the window then Steve. “She's here in Ireland?”
“She's in the lobby...felt you and I needed a minute alone first. She's a good woman, Kenya. I'll always love your mother, no one will change that, but I was tired of being alone.”
“What’s her name again?” she prodded.
“Salma,” he said holding her hands between his.
“Is that, Italian?”
“African,” he corrected. “She wants to meet you.”
She rubbed a knuckle under her nose. “Might as well.”
She watched as he left the room then less than a minute later the door opened and a tall lean woman stepped inside crossing the room to Kenya. Nothing special about her features yet she held an openness about her Kenya found pleasing.
“Hi, Salma, I’m Kenya Blakemore,” she said as pleasantly as possible.
“Kenya, I’m glad to finally meet you. You look so much like your mother.”
“My mother?” she questioned.
“There's pictures of all of you in our family room back home in France.” Kenya shot a glance to Steve and he shrugged and sat on the sofa.
“France is where we met. I traveled a lot,” he said. “I know you have a lot going on right now, Kenya, but if there’s anything I can do to help you through what has to be a terrible ordeal, don’t hesitate to ask.”
She peeked at the clock. “Right now I’m waiting on a call, but if you two don't have to leave right away...stay for dinner, later we can talk more.”
Salma's mouth tweaked up on the corners. “That’s all we want, is to get to know you,” Salma said and before Kenya could respond, the shrill of the phone had her jerking around. She darted across the room to grab up the receiver.
“Kenya
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