Chapter Sixteen
Five hours later, Mena limped off the elevator onto the sixth floor of the Irungu Center. Her feet cried in agony from the heels she’d had on for too long. The tour had been a huge success. The European group had decided to allow the museum to house their collection and had canceled meetings with the other museums they had planned to visit. Mena winced. Just a few more feet and she’d be in the Conservators Room, where her Chanel flats waited underneath her workstation.
Voices grew louder as Mena neared the room. The unmistakable sound of Grace Kadenge and Isaac Gatobu engaging in yet another spirited debate. What were the two arguing about this time? Slipping through the doors, Mena headed toward her workstation.
“All I’m saying is that you are living in the city now. There is no need to limit yourself to Meru women. We are all Kenyans. Who cares what tribe the woman is from. If you don’t expand your horizons, you might not ever get married,” Grace said, her voice rising.
Mena rolled her eyes as she slipped into her chair. The last thing she wanted to listen to was a debate about marriage.
“Why don’t you understand that for me, finding a wife of my same tribe, with my same values and beliefs and history, is the only thing that matters. If other people want to date from other tribes, I don’t have a problem with that. It’s just not for me,” Isaac roared back, his voice shaking with indignation.
Mena dropped her purse in the desk drawer then turned her focus to the ivory bracelet. Anything was better than listening to Grace and Isaac arguing over their tribal differences. Mena had gotten a crash course shortly after she’d arrived. Many Kenyans still held deep attachment to their tribes, which led to divisions within politics, ideals, relationships, and neighborhoods, not unlike how some areas of America were still divided along racial lines.
Grace and Isaac were from different tribes. From what Mena had witnessed, their views on everything in life were diametrically opposed. Although, it wasn’t clear to Mena if their differences were fueled by tribal traditions or an underlying sexual tension that seemed to course between the two.
“Take Mena, for instance. She obviously didn’t sit around being single just because she couldn’t find a black man to date. She embraced racial and cultural differences by dating a white man, not worrying about what the world or tradition thought about her choices,” Grace said.
Mena’s head jerked up, and she turned back to face the dueling duo.
“Yes, but if you notice, she has not married that white man. Dating, shacking up, whatever, but marriage is a serious union, and even Mena realizes that becoming yoked with a man of a different race is not something to be entered into lightly. I’m guessing that’s why Julian is still her boyfriend and not her husband,” Isaac countered.
Were they using her private life as fuel for their debate? Or had she entered the twilight zone?
Grace continued, “Time, my dear Isaac, not race is why they aren’t married … yet. The relationship is new, and I understand Mena’s desire to get to know Julian more before she lets him put a ring on it. Do you want to keep being this miserable, lonely single guy because you can’t find a Meru woman or do you want to be happy in a relationship with a Kenyan woman without worrying about what tribe she’s in?”
“How about the two of you leave my relationship out of your debates,” Mena said, disturbed by how much of her private life had become fodder for office gossip.
Grace walked over to Mena and gave her a condescending squeeze around the shoulders. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have brought you into this.”
“I’m sorry too,” Isaac said, but Mena doubted his sincerity. “How are you and Julian doing after the craziness of the fundraising dinner? I’m so happy I decided to pass on attending.”
“I’m fine, and so is Julian,” Mena said.
“I didn’t realize he was an ex-Navy SEAL and had worked missions in Africa in the past,” Isaac said.
“Wangari said he’s part of her private security team, and her family is thrilled to have a bonafide hero protecting her. She said her father is planning to sign TIDES to a long-term contract because of their efforts at the event and give Julian a big fat bonus,” Grace said.
Mena forced herself to smile. Wangari had shared the same news with her, but it didn’t make her feel any better. The idea of Julian putting his life on the line to save her boss wasn’t sitting well with her, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“My father met with the TIDES team earlier this afternoon. I can’t thank Julian enough for everything he did to save lives and protect the museum,” Wangari said, floating into the room, holding a bouquet of flowers.
“Who are those for?” Grace asked, rushing toward the Director of the Irungu Center.
“Not you, this time,” Wangari said. “These are for Mena.”
“You got me flowers for closing the deal with the European investors?” Mena asked. “You really shouldn’t have.”
“Closed the deal?” Isaac asked, tension in his voice. “They agreed to let us house their collection of African art?”
“They did,” Wangari confirmed. “Lawyers are drawing up the paperwork and should have it signed within the week. But no, I didn’t get these flowers for you, Mena. Someone else sent them.”
“Maybe, Julian?” Grace asked.
“He’s not the flower type,” Mena said, a sickening feeling pooling in her stomach.
“Beautiful coral peonies. We don’t get many orders for these in Africa. It was a rare request, but my company aims to please,” Wangari said.
Mena’s throat constricted as she tried to swallow past the anger bubbling within her.
