confessed. "Had to take the keys away from her when her cataracts got so bad, but it was the last car my Grandpa Earl picked out for her so she won't sell it."
"Cammie got it in her head she wanted a Jaguar," he responded. "Rafe bought an old nineteen fifty drophead coupe and restored it for her. Picked that one because the body was made of steel and he worried about her safety. It's under a cover in the barn. I can't bring myself to sell it, and I won't let my brothers drive it." He smiled at her. "But that GTI, it's a damn good car. Reliable and solid."
She let him ramble about cars, a topic she knew nothing about, simply enjoying looking at him. He was handsome and when he talked about things he liked, his face sort of relaxed and he lost that watchful look he had, like he expected something bad to happen every minute. It was becoming abundantly clear that he had no need of the money from selling any land, and she began to worry about how she'd stop King from taking Grams' house.
"Where's your favorite shoe store?" He interrupted her worries.
She told him and sat lost in thought, trying to figure out how to handle King while he drove to the opposite end of town.
She felt embarrassed walking into the store wearing no shoes. The white sales clerk stared pointedly at her feet and rushed from behind the counter, headed in her direction.
"These shoes are cheap. And tacky," he announced once they stepped through the door and he took a brief look around.
The store was inexpensive. That's why she shopped here, but why would he want to spend a bunch of money on shoes anyway? He might not realize how much it was going to cost to get her hair braided. In her limited experience, men always underestimated the cost of girly things. "No, they're fine," Cynda argued, picking up a pair of purple pumps she'd die to own. They had stacked soles and little brass-colored studs all over the leather. "Let me just try these on in my size," she begged. She turned the shoe over, delighted to see a sale sticker. "And, they're only fifteen dollars."
"You set your sights too low, Cynda."
"May I help you?" the clerk asked.
Unsure what he meant but stung by his tone, she set the pretty shoe back on the display. He selected a simple white sandal. The clerk brought out her size and she dutifully tried them on, but had to blink back tears. He'd suggested shoe shopping, not her. This was his game , she reminded herself, but the man had bad taste in shoes. And dog's names.
"Walk around and be sure they don't hurt your feet."
Cynda rolled her eyes but did as he said, annoyed when the clerk followed her.
Daniel apparently noticed the woman's behavior. When she returned to say they felt fine, he whispered, "Why's she following you?"
Cynda looked over her shoulder disdainfully, raising her voice slightly. "She's concerned because I'm SWB." She saw his brows knot, so she interpreted the acronym so familiar to her and apparently so foreign to him, "Shopping While Black."
His expression darkened. "Take those shoes off, Cynda."
She didn't want them anyway and was glad to obey, yet felt further humiliated when the woman sneered at him, her expression saying the white bitch thought he'd lowered his standards to be out with Cynda. He shoved each sandal roughly into the box and held it out to the clerk. "No, thank you. I'm sure there are other stores where we won't be treated like criminals. Stores with nicer shoes."
Following him out of the store, she didn't speak again. He hadn't been the one disrespected, had he? She suddenly longed to see Grams. What was the point in living in his house, pretending to be something she wasn't when she needed to be home figuring out a way to help Grams stall King? They drove in silence to a strip mall she'd never been to. Lost in thought, she got out of the truck and dutifully followed him into the new store. Catching sight of a rare pay phone, she almost asked him for the change to call someone to come get her.
A
"Cammie got it in her head she wanted a Jaguar," he responded. "Rafe bought an old nineteen fifty drophead coupe and restored it for her. Picked that one because the body was made of steel and he worried about her safety. It's under a cover in the barn. I can't bring myself to sell it, and I won't let my brothers drive it." He smiled at her. "But that GTI, it's a damn good car. Reliable and solid."
She let him ramble about cars, a topic she knew nothing about, simply enjoying looking at him. He was handsome and when he talked about things he liked, his face sort of relaxed and he lost that watchful look he had, like he expected something bad to happen every minute. It was becoming abundantly clear that he had no need of the money from selling any land, and she began to worry about how she'd stop King from taking Grams' house.
"Where's your favorite shoe store?" He interrupted her worries.
She told him and sat lost in thought, trying to figure out how to handle King while he drove to the opposite end of town.
She felt embarrassed walking into the store wearing no shoes. The white sales clerk stared pointedly at her feet and rushed from behind the counter, headed in her direction.
"These shoes are cheap. And tacky," he announced once they stepped through the door and he took a brief look around.
The store was inexpensive. That's why she shopped here, but why would he want to spend a bunch of money on shoes anyway? He might not realize how much it was going to cost to get her hair braided. In her limited experience, men always underestimated the cost of girly things. "No, they're fine," Cynda argued, picking up a pair of purple pumps she'd die to own. They had stacked soles and little brass-colored studs all over the leather. "Let me just try these on in my size," she begged. She turned the shoe over, delighted to see a sale sticker. "And, they're only fifteen dollars."
"You set your sights too low, Cynda."
"May I help you?" the clerk asked.
Unsure what he meant but stung by his tone, she set the pretty shoe back on the display. He selected a simple white sandal. The clerk brought out her size and she dutifully tried them on, but had to blink back tears. He'd suggested shoe shopping, not her. This was his game , she reminded herself, but the man had bad taste in shoes. And dog's names.
"Walk around and be sure they don't hurt your feet."
Cynda rolled her eyes but did as he said, annoyed when the clerk followed her.
Daniel apparently noticed the woman's behavior. When she returned to say they felt fine, he whispered, "Why's she following you?"
Cynda looked over her shoulder disdainfully, raising her voice slightly. "She's concerned because I'm SWB." She saw his brows knot, so she interpreted the acronym so familiar to her and apparently so foreign to him, "Shopping While Black."
His expression darkened. "Take those shoes off, Cynda."
She didn't want them anyway and was glad to obey, yet felt further humiliated when the woman sneered at him, her expression saying the white bitch thought he'd lowered his standards to be out with Cynda. He shoved each sandal roughly into the box and held it out to the clerk. "No, thank you. I'm sure there are other stores where we won't be treated like criminals. Stores with nicer shoes."
Following him out of the store, she didn't speak again. He hadn't been the one disrespected, had he? She suddenly longed to see Grams. What was the point in living in his house, pretending to be something she wasn't when she needed to be home figuring out a way to help Grams stall King? They drove in silence to a strip mall she'd never been to. Lost in thought, she got out of the truck and dutifully followed him into the new store. Catching sight of a rare pay phone, she almost asked him for the change to call someone to come get her.
A
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