“Yes, a worm! Through a sunset, maybe?” speculated Kim.
Desmond threw his hands up, kissing his teeth. “And you all call yourselves cultured! You all have no eye fuh good art, you know! Rich folks pay good money fuh art like this!”
We all erupted into laughter.
“Well, I think it’s nice, honey,” said Eloise as she kissed Desmond on the cheek. “This is really going to brighten up the spot for the kids. Look at them! Their first office!”
James-Harrison Designs was a small fine art and architectural firm in the historic Sweet Auburn district. Porter didn’t win the bet on calling it “Harrison Squared.” Luckily for us, Jamal was now one of the most popular real estate agents in the city. He wasted no time finding us an exceptional building in a glorious, refurbished warehouse space. It was large enough to house a full-size studio for Porter’s art as well.
After spending almost three years in Spain, Porter and I knew it was time to go home.
Living in Spain gave Porter the clarity he needed, realizing that architecture hadn’t truly made him happy. Porter spent much of the time in Spain working on his art, exhibiting his work in several small, well-respected galleries, and selling pieces. He was truly at peace and happy to have found his calling, without the Harrison name behind him.
My time at the Claudio Velez Firm was amazing. Velez and I had designed four award-winning resorts for the Serranos. All housing James Beard-award-winning chefs, much to Porter’s greedy delight. When I resigned, Mr. Velez begged me to stay, enticing me by raising my salary by almost double. He even said he’d hire Porter if it would make me happy. “He’s okay,” he said. “But I like you much better.” I laughed. I told Velez that I appreciated the opportunity, but we were both homesick. He understood.
I watched as Mr. George put the finishing touches on the logo on the door. My mother walked over, deliberately sauntering, swaying her ample hips to bring him a bottle of water from the makeshift cooler. He smiled widely in eager anticipation. A lot had changed in the three years since we had been away—like my mom and Mr. George dating. She said it started with her asking him to help her with some small renovations in her condo. The next thing you know, he asked her to dinner every weekend. I couldn’t believe it. Mom assured me she wasn’t trying to be the next Mrs. Flores, but she was happy. Mom had even met his kids, and they adored her. She was learning Spanish for an upcoming trip to Ecuador. It wasn’t going so well. Beyond learning “agua” and asking where the “ba?o” was, Doris was hopeless.
Just then, a streak of green and blue tulle swished past, almost knocking me down as they grabbed my legs.
“Sasha! Malia! Get off your Auntie Ari!” yelled Bella as she carried in a box of cupcakes and a thick notebook that I knew was her event planning bible. As usual, she was deliberately overdressed for move-in day in heels, a cardigan, and jeans. She was more invested in planning the welcome party for our new clients than moving boxes. When we opened our firm, we had no problem finding clients, including some former clients of Riddle and Robinson. The endorsement by the Serrano brothers and Claudio Velez certainly helped.
Bella put the cupcakes and the notebook on the receptionist’s desk. I had a tinge of sadness looking at the still vacant area. Ms. Gayle had turned down our offer to be our new office manager, saying she’d rather “monitor the old men” and retire with them. Ms. Gayle promised she would visit us from time to time to make sure that we were doing alright.
The twins released me and ran into the arms of my mother, who gave them kisses on each cheek, and then to Porter, who picked both girls up and allowed them to give him a big bear hug. Porter had instantly become Sasha and Malia’s favorite new person.
Bella turned to the notebook and began talking a mile a minute. “Listen, I know you don’t want to think about it, but I need to know your decision for the open bar. Are we doing a champagne toast at the end? Any particular brand? Also, we need to pick high-boy linen colors. I was thinking gold. I brought cupcakes from the baker to taste. Also, centerpieces…”
I put my hands on Bella’s shoulders. “Relax, Bella. It’s okay. Whatever you decide, I’m here for it. I know it’s going to be beautiful.”
Bella took a deep breath and smirked. “I mean, I want to make sure this is perfect for you. This is a major event. Besides, it isn’t like I helped plan your wedding.”
I looked down at my ring and bit my lip, feeling just a little guilty that my best friend wasn’t there at one of the biggest moments of my life. Porter and I eloped in Spain six months after our arrival. Despite not having family there, our wedding day was perfect. We were married early morning in a small, village Catholic church. We signed the registry, and that was it. My mother almost had an AME-holy-ghost-fit when she learned it was in Catholic church. Eventually, Doris forgave us. Since dating Mr. George, she’d learned to appreciate a few “Hail Mary and we out of here” church services.