Veronica stirred her spoon in her coffee slowly and said quietly, “Okay, but if William screws you over in any way, in business or in love, I promise to start vicious rumors in Atlanta real estate circles that all his properties are roach and rat-infested.”
I laughed and said, “I love you too, Veronica.”
“Like the big roaches that fly at you.” Veronica nodded solemnly. Then her lips curled into a smile. “Okay. But like, for real. Life-changing? Come on. You gotta give me the details.” When I leaned forward and whispered a juicy detail to her, Veronica’s eyes widened, and I laughed.
So far, my thirtieth birthday had been perfect. I woke up next to William and had breakfast with Veronica. I just couldn’t imagine it getting better, but it did. I went home and took a nap, and Aunt Rita woke me up right before dinner. She was sitting at the foot of my bed when I fully woke. I stretched like a cat, and, still groggy, I said, “Oh! I’m sorry. Did I oversleep for dinner?”
Aunt Rita crossed her legs and daintily rested her wrist atop her knees. “Actually, my dear, as we speak, a very handsome man is downstairs making you a birthday dinner.”
I felt giddy and couldn’t hide my smile. Aunt Rita playfully pinched my legs. “I knew you two liked each other. What has taken so long?”
“I guess I just had to get out of my own way,” I said with a sigh.
“Well, I’m not going to say I told you so…” Aunt Rita said, examining her nails cooly, “But I did tell you so.”
I rolled my eyes and threw a pillow at her. I hopped out of bed.
Aunt Rita headed for my door. “William said dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes if you want to run a comb through your hair. I offered to leave you two alone for dinner, but he insisted I join. I invited a date, so I wouldn’t be a third wheel.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said. “I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”
As soon as Aunt Rita closed the door, I quickly undressed. I went into my bathroom and shaved places I hadn’t thought about in five years. I found and put on a matching black bra and panty set, then pulled one of my sundresses over them. I looked at my hair in the mirror. Aunt Rita was right. My nap had created an interesting cowlick that I couldn’t quite tame. I decided a loose braid would have to do.
As I examined myself in the mirror, I realized I hadn’t given this much thought to how I looked since New Year’s Eve. I hurried down the stairs. When I got down to the kitchen, I could hear Aunt Rita laughing. She was seated in the dining room. A man a few years older than her had his arm around her chair, and William was placing a platter in front of them. When Aunt Rita saw me, she announced, “Here she is. Our birthday girl.”
William looked up. “Hey, happy birthday. You look great.” I could feel myself blush. William pulled out a chair for me, and I joined them at the table.
“Kit, this is Vernon.” Aunt Rita said. “He’s a doctor at the regional hospital.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “William, this smells amazing. I had no idea you could cook.”
“Yeah, I learned from my mom. She worked in a lot of different types of kitchens, but she primarily taught me to cook Filipino food.” William explained to Vernon, “This is a chicken dish called adobo that you eat over rice, and these noodles are called pancit. You’re supposed to eat them on your birthday for good luck and long life.”
“And these are lumpia!” Aunt Rita said taking a bite of a slender fried eggroll. Vernon laughed as he did the same. “Everyone who has ever worked in a hospital with a Filipina nurse has had the pleasure of eating lumpia at least once.”
“This is so nice. I really appreciate it,” I said trying hard not to gush. William went back into the kitchen to get serving spoons. When he sat down in the chair next to me, his thighs brushed mine. He put his hand on my knee. I felt a charge run through my body and a warm, pleasant sensation begin to collect in my lower belly.
“Well, I’m particularly appreciative because I am so useless in the kitchen. A home-cooked meal is always a special treat,” Aunt Rita said as she poured everyone a glass of wine, and we started dinner. Aunt Rita and Vernon carried the conversation with endless and entertaining stories about working in a hospital. I felt grateful because all I could think about were the occasional electrifying brushes of Wiliam’s hand on my leg as we ate dinner. William was careful not to draw attention, but each time he touched me he pushed my dress a little higher.
When Vernon and Aunt Rita went into the kitchen to get dessert, I saw the flame in William’s eye as I rubbed my thighs together in such a way that his fingers were brushed between them. He swallowed hard. When my aunt returned with slices of cake and scoops of ice cream, William pulled his hand back and draped it around the back of my chair. I had liked the flirty touch of his hand on my thigh, but I was surprised to find that the familiar and assuming way William put his arm around me gave me butterflies.
Vernon was right behind Aunt Rita, and he brought cups of coffee.
I exclaimed, “This is so nice. I can’t remember the last time we had dinner together like this.”
Vernon settled back into his chair. “So, William. Rita tells me you’re a big part of the development around the regional hospital.”
“That’s right,” William said as he sat up to eat his cake. His hand fell from the back of my chair and briefly pressed against the small of my back before he used it to pick up his coffee cup. Every time William touched me, I was so acutely aware that I hardly heard their conversation.
“Well, I know all the nurses and staff are excited about some potential housing options,” Aunt Rita said. “We’re simply priced out of most of the homes in Blue Ridge and Elijay.”
“Yeah, Creekstone is uniquely positioned to provide affordable housing to young and middle-aged professionals,” William said. “We’ve been looking at different parcels of land to build homes for nurses and first responders. We’re even looking at programs to help seniors who might be interested in downsizing from their large family homes to a senior living community.”
“How would that work?” Aunt Rita asked.
“Well, we’d start by building affordable senior living communities. The ones in Elijay and Blue Ridge cater to very wealthy retired individuals, and that’s not really the demographic of the seniors in Creekstone. So, the first thing we’d do is build desirable homes for seniors who have a more modest retirement income. We’d help them with either the sale of their home or setting their home up to be a rental property so they could afford a senior living community.”
Vernon nodded. “That would be great. It would create more demand for outpatient centers that serve seniors.”
