Chapter 3

            Jessica Washington Davis surveyed the three-bedroom loft. It was perfect. There was a room for her to set up a studio, and she could afford it. Her divorce settlement was generous, but there was no need to waste it. She was an independent artist and photographer. She loved what she did for a living, but her survival depended on if someone decided to buy her photos and paintings.

            At first, she didn’t think coming back to New York was a good idea. After all, her upbringing in New York wasn’t all flowers and roses. Then she had thought about her aging parents. Jessica should be close just in case something happened.

            She was about to unpack another box filled with kitchenware when there was a knock on the door. She knew who it was. They had called and said they were going to come over and help her get settled.

            Jessica opened the door. She smiled at the sight of her parents.

            Bobby and Marjorie Washington were in their sixties and in good health. They still worked, but Jessica hoped that one day she would have enough money to help her parents to retire before they were seventy.

            “Hey, baby,” her father greeted and patted her on the shoulder. Her father was always a handsome man, and he got better looking with age. His afro was salt and pepper, and his mustache only showed small hints of white.

            “Hi, Daddy.”

            “So, this is it,” her mother said as she stepped inside the loft.

            “Yep,” Jessica said and closed the door.

            “It looks homey,” her mother commented as she looked around at the high ceilings.

            “The neighborhood is pretty good, too,” her father said. “Harlem is the heart of New York.”

            “Yes, I think I made a good choice,” Jessica said.

            “Let’s get started,” her mother said. “Where do we begin?”

            “Well, I could use your help in unpacking the rest of the kitchen things. And Daddy, I need you to put the beds together. The movers charged by the hour, and I’m trying to keep costs low.”

            “I’m on it,” her father said and headed for the stairs.

            Jessica and her mother went to the kitchen. Her mother’s short, blown out hair was frosted with white strands mixed with black.

            “I’ll wash these things,” her mother said and motioned to the glasses. “They shouldn’t be that dirty, but I want to make sure the germs from the newspaper aren’t going to poison you later.”

            “Just put them in the dishwasher for a quick rinse,” Jessica suggested.

            Her mother scoffed. “I can rinse them quicker than that thing would going through all the cycles.” She started running water in the sink.

            Jessica smiled as she started unpacking a box. “I really appreciate you two coming over here on your day off.”

            Jessica’s parents had worked for a wealthy New York family, the Michelsons, since she was a little girl. Her father was the family’s chauffer and her mother was the head chef.

            “We didn’t have anything else to do,” her mother said. “I think you will be happy here. Possibly sell a lot more of your work here than you did in DC.”

            “Perhaps,” Jessica mumbled as she took her food processor out of the box.

            “Are you still depressed about the divorce?”

            “Not really. It is what it is. Successful lawyer who is working his way into the politics leaves his wife of nearly fourteen years for his barely legal secretary. It happens all the time,” Jessica said nonchalantly. She was over it. All she wanted to do was forge ahead, making her mark in the art world.

            “You’ll find someone new. You and Drake weren’t meant to be.”

            “You tell me that now.”

            “Baby, at the time I couldn’t say much about it. It was best that you were married back then, and he wanted you – warts, baggage, and all. You needed to be married.”

            “I know, Momma. No need to remind me,” Jessica mumbled.

            “I didn’t mean anything by it. With that being said, when is my granddaughter coming?”

            “Drake and I decided it would be best for her to finish the school year. She’ll be able to start ninth grade in New York.”

            “That’s a long time for you not to be with your daughter,” her mother commented.

            “I know, but it’s what’s best for Debbie,” Jessica said. “She took the divorce hard. I didn’t want to hit her with too many changes all at once. I’ll go back to DC for the Christmas holiday. Plus, it gives me plenty of time to look at the schools here. I want her to have a good education.”

            “I do, too,” her mother said. “I guess we’ll have to keep settling for talking to her over the phone.” Jessica’s parents didn’t use Skype. They didn’t know much about computers.

            “The time will go by before you know it. I hope so, anyway,” Jessica said with a wry smile.