Till We Meet Again by Sylvia Crim-Brown

everything OK over here?”
    Before I could say anything his mother said, “Yes. Simone and I are just getting to know each other.”
    Surprised she even remembered my name; I decided not to let her questions get under my skin.
    Charles and his dad walked over to the fireplace and held their own conversation.
    I took a sip of the wine; again wishing it was something stronger. The surprisingly delicious crisp taste got my attention.
         “This wine is very good. May I ask what this is?” I asked Mrs. Dupree.
         “It’s OPUS One Napa Valley 2009. From our private stock,” she answered with her head held high.”
         “It’s lovely.” I hesitated, “Speaking of lovely, this is a beautiful home you have here,” I said.
         “Thank you,” Mrs. Dupree said stiffly. Looking around the room she continued, “This house has been in the Dupree family since the late 1800s. Dr. Dupree’s father was a doctor as well. And my father and grandfather were attorneys. Charles comes from a long line of professionals.”
         “Yes, I’m aware.” I said.
    I could hear Charles and his dad discussing a real estate deal. I was on my own.
         “So Charles said you’re from upstate?”
         “Actually not really upstate. It’s Northern Westchester County. A small town called Quaker Ridge…about an hour north of New York City.”
    Mrs. Dupree put her drink down. “I know that town…very well actually.”
         “Do you?” I asked.
         “Yes, Dr. Dupree and I have some friends in that live there. The Douglas’…do you know them?”
         “Ahhh, I went to high school with a Tara Douglas. Her dad owns an engineering company.”
         “Yes…yes,” Mrs. Dupree said sitting up in her chair and smiling at me for the first time. “That’s a lovely town.”
         “Yes, it is.” Then thinking to myself I said, “So I’m not the ghetto snipe you thought I was.”
         “How long has your family been in Quaker Ridge?”
         “My sister and I started there in Elementary school. My family was there for over 30 years.”
         “I see,” she said taking a sip of her drink. She put her glass on the small table between her chair and the one I assume was Dr. Dupree’s.
    I looked over at Charles and his dad. They were still in an in depth conversation.
         “So tell me, do you like the work you do?” Mrs. Dupree asked turning my attention back to her.
         “Actually I do,” I answered. “Although working in the finance field was not something I had planned I am very happy I landed there.”
         “Landed?” Mrs. Dupree asked with an eyebrow raised. A gesture I recognized from Charles.
         “Yes, landed.” I answered. “I was an English major in college. I thought I’d write ‘the great American novel.”
    We both laughed.
    I continued, “But when my marriage didn’t work out I needed to do something that was going to make a good life for me and my sons. I prayed…hard…consistently and ended up working for a financial firm. I fell in love with it and have been in the business ever since.”
         “Hmmm,” Mrs. Dupree said thoughtfully. “I understand what you mean by ‘falling in love’ with your career. My dad was an attorney and so was my grandfather. If I were a boy it would automatically be assumed that I would follow in their footsteps. But being the only child and a female, my mom and dad tried to push me into teaching. Mind you, there is nothing wrong with being an educator but I had no passion to be one.”
    Mrs. Dupree continued with a faraway look on her face, “I remember visiting my dad and granddaddy at their office when I was a kid. I would sit at my dad’s chair at his desk…my feet didn’t even touch the floor yet but I knew…I knew in my heart that this was where I wanted to be…studying law. At 10 years old, I was reading my dad’s law books like a child reads Dr. Seuss. I