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Chapter 1
Brooke sat outsidethe wrought iron gate for five minutes, her slender fingers drummingon the wheel as she waited for her stomach to settle. She wasthirty-two years old and a grown-ass woman who should be able to sayno to these meaningless Sunday dinners.
She had faced downgang members and pimps, she should be capable enough of tellingMarjorie Howell-Campbell that she would rather be anywhere else- Ajolt went through her body at the tap on her window.
"You almost gaveme a damn heart attack," she muttered, pressing the button towind the window down. "Can you be any creepier?"
Dwayne Campbell wasnot in the least offended. Going around to the passenger side, heopened the door and slid in, giving her a warm glance.
"Mother wantedto make sure that you didn’t turn around and go back to yourcrappy apartment."
"Where did youcome from?"
"The sideentrance." He eyed her outfit critically.
"Don't start."She muttered.
"Your braids arefalling apart."
"I work almosttwenty-four hours a day and do not have the kind of time you do."
"That's noexcuse." He tugged at a loose plait. "Honey, you know youwill be grilled through and through."
"Can't you tellher I am not feeling well and decided to return home?" Her largedark brown eyes pleaded with him.
"Lie to ourmother?" He looked shocked.
“You do it allthe damn time; you are a freaking lawyer.”
“I am not onthe job.” Leaning over, he kissed her on the cheek. “Chinup, darling; you can do this.”
“I hate you.”She said without heat.
“You love me.Giving you the heads up that she heard about the latest incident atthe clinic.”
Brooke closed hereyes briefly in resignation. “And?”
“She is goingto double up on her campaign to get you to change your mind aboutgoing to the hospital.” Glancing at the watch on his leftwrist, he pressed the button to open the gate. “Might as wellgo and face the music.”
Hands tightening onthe wheel, she eased the car through the gateway, ignoring the burstof pansies and peonies on either side of the cobbled drive. She hadgrown up here but had never thought of it as a home because it hadnever been one, as far as she was concerned.
She and her brotherhad attended an exclusive semi-private school with less than twentypupils to a teacher. She excelled in her studies - being an A studenthad been a rigid requirement of the Campbells, especially her mother.
Shaking off theunpleasant memories, she brought the vehicle to a stop at thesweeping porch. Alice, a wrinkled white woman of an indeterminateage, immediately opened the door. The woman had been a constant sincethey were children.
"Ms. Brooke."Taking her hands, Alice drew her into the foyer. "It's so goodto see you."
"You saw me lastSunday." Brooke reminded her fondly, drawing her in for a kisson the weathered cheek.
"You never comeby often."
"My stomachcannot take more than once a week."
"My sister isnot the soul of discretion," Dwayne said dryly. "Is Motherstill in the blue salon?"
"Yes, she is.Cocktails will be served as soon as you go in." Patting Brookeon the cheek, she bustled away.
Tucking her handthrough his arm, Dwayne led the way along the passageway until theycame to an open door on the left.
