Lena fingers the disposable camera. An inexpensive gift given with richness of heart that money cannot buy. It is full of Nice and Paris. Lena intended to turn the photos into a sc.r.a.pbook; Lulu's eyes to the world. Wanted her to see what she had never seen: the Mediterranean's dappled surface, the Eiffel Tower, the boats on the Seine, Notre Dame, her daughter in Paris doing fine. A sprig of lavender is tied around the camera so that Lulu could smell France, too.

"Don't beat yourself up." Bobbie sniffs. "You were a good daughter, a responsible daughter. Lulu was proud of you. Proud that you could walk away from Randall's money and try to make it on your own. She knew you were doing what you needed to do."

Lena knows all of this. It is the sound of Lulu's voice that she wants to hear saying it.

Chapter 36.

Madame Harrison, I am so sorry that you must leave under such sad circ.u.mstances." Jeanne escorts Lena to the awaiting car. "Please accept my condolences on the death of your mother."

"I appreciate your help, Jeanne." Lena hands her an envelope. Inside are the tickets to Tina's concert. "Enjoy."

The driver moves the car in and out of traffic, the static of French over the two-way radio relays to the driver, Lena a.s.sumes, instructions for his next pickup. He mumbles then slams the speaker into its cradle.

In the pa.s.senger window beside her a spider twirls and scurries from left to right, seeking connecting points on the gla.s.s to weave its silken web.

"Oh my G.o.d, a spider!"

The cab driver frantically swerves through the traffic to get to the curb. "Zut alors, madame. Pardon. The last person in zuh cab carry a tree. Let me kill it for you." madame. Pardon. The last person in zuh cab carry a tree. Let me kill it for you."

"No, merci." Lena lowers the window. The spider scampers to the top of the gla.s.s and crawls over to the other side so that its sticky underside is close to Lena's face. She rolls up the window and lets the French Riviera whiz past: Hotel Negresco, the red double-decker Nice tour bus, the sandy beach where she and Cheryl took their tops off to soak in the sun while Harmon and Bruce tried to act like the French, not gawking Americans, countless white apartment buildings, cars, and more cars.

Harmon suggested she make her connection to San Francisco in Chicago when she called him. He would join her so that she would not travel to her mother's funeral alone, but she insisted his presence would complicate things. His love is on her mind. Randall is on her mind as well; but, Tina stayed away from Ike. Sometimes the dream is better than the reality. He will be at the funeral, but not beside her. Even in his sadness, she supposes, he will not comfort Lena in the way he might have if they were together. She will watch him console Camille and Kendrick, and Lena is okay with that. Randall will be as upset as she is. He loved Lulu, too.

She unfolds two sheets of Hotel de la Mer's heavy stationery. The pages are full of her list of things to do. Lena and Bobbie have spent hours on conference calls with the funeral home and their aunts making the arrangements. Their aunts have phoned family friends; Lulu's answering machine will fill quickly with sympathetic messages. If this were a cheerful moment, Lena would call it Bobbie's just deserts, since Lena made all of the arrangements for their father. Lena's job is to compose the eulogy on the plane ride home, to compress eighty-one years into a short speech.

Kendrick cried when she told him of his grandmother's death. She waited fifteen minutes while they talked of his cla.s.ses and his readjustment to the regimen of school before she spoke the words, "Lulu is gone, Kendrick," in order to soften the shock. He called Camille so they could have a three-way conversation. Camille cried, too, at the loss of the only grandmother she'd ever known. Both kids have called her twice in the day it has taken to change her travel arrangements. Funny, she thinks, how kids can become so responsible in a crisis.

His dad, Kendrick said, will make sure their son has something decent to wear-no sagging pants. Lulu used to tease Kendrick about his pants, threatened to pull them down if he didn't pull them up. Camille chased him around her house because Lulu's old legs couldn't move fast enough. Kendrick never pulled his pants up; his grandmother never pulled them down. Camille and Kendrick will miss Lulu as much as Lena will; losing two people you love within a year and a half is hard. Three. Lena adds Randall to her tally: Randall, Lulu, John Henry-losing three people is hard.

The driver parks the car at the curb in front of the airport's gla.s.s exterior. Lena doesn't bother to stop the daydreams as she gathers euro coins to pay the driver-tipping him too much to avoid returning home with the heavy loose change-of what it might be like if Randall were waiting when the plane lands in San Francisco. Perhaps he would take her hand, like a friend. At the baggage carousel he would lift her heavy suitcase, carry it like he used to carry Kendrick first, Camille later, in one hand to make their babies laugh, make Lena shake with fear that he would drop the infants, but still have pride that her husband was so strong, her babies and her life so secure.

This would have been possible had she not moved on to her own fate. When she sees Randall at the funeral, when she cries at her mother's grave, he will think all her tears are for her mother, and she will let him; the tears will be for Lulu, but also for her old life. For its death. For what no longer is and will never be again.

Goodbye to Randall. Goodbye to Harmon. Goodbye to the deep blue sea and the smell of baguettes baking in rough ovens. No regrets. She has no regrets.

The airport is straightforward and uncomplicated. Lena wears the only pair of high heels she brought with her and the same s.e.xy dress from that first dinner with Harmon, draped with a pashmina stole in honor of Lulu. On the rare visit to the airport when they were young, Lulu dressed her daughters in pinafores and patent leather mary janes. The sisters believed the airport was a miraculous, mysterious place; its high-glossed floors filled with people coming and going to foreign places they longed to know. The corridors of Nice's airport are shiny and heavily waxed, too. She has never lost her awe for airports.

Pa.s.sengers for the trans-Atlantic flight crowd in front of the airline counter; the lines are long but move swiftly. Behind the soon-to-be-boarded travelers, a swarm of people rush frantically toward the exit door. In the midst of all the commotion, Lena catches sight of a brown-skinned woman: hair controllably uncontrolled, red-lipped smile, high heels, great legs.

The woman walks at her own pace, accustomed to the attention, the adoration. The crowd grows thicker as everyone recognizes her. She calls bonjour and h.e.l.lo in a raspy voice like music, like Lena antic.i.p.ated it would be the first time she heard it up close.

It is a short walk to the gla.s.s sliding doors and the curb where a black limousine waits. The crowd falls back and re-forms a line. Several autograph-seeking stragglers remain. I, Tina I, Tina is secure inside Lena's suitcase. She fumbles for a minute to open her luggage. Lena looks up to see Tina Turner walking through the gla.s.s door to the limo. is secure inside Lena's suitcase. She fumbles for a minute to open her luggage. Lena looks up to see Tina Turner walking through the gla.s.s door to the limo.

"I love you, Tina," Lena shouts.

Tina twirls around to see the face behind the distinctly American accent. She glances at Lena's sole black face among her adoring fans, and Lena raises both hands and waves.

"Thank you," Lena shouts louder this time.

Tina looks Lena straight in the eye, breaks into a wide smile, and blows Lena a kiss, just before the car door closes, and the limo eases down the road.

Acknowledgments.

On this wonderful journey of writing my first novel, I have traveled down and around the paths of discovery, surprise, rejection, and acceptance. With all that is in my heart, I thank G.o.d and the Universe for my blessings, for the lesson that family is connected by more than blood, for friendships. My heart and my head have learned so much. I am pleased and privileged to have such wonderful people supporting and encouraging me every step of the way.

My dear friends, The Finish Party, you have taught me that, sometimes, simple words work best, but a simple "thank you" doesn't seem to do justice to your wisdom, help, and love. I am filled with grat.i.tude that each of you smart, witty, talented, and truly wise women is in my life: Farai Chideya, Alyss Dixson, ZZ Packer, Deborah Santana, Renee Swindle, Lalita Tademy, Nich.e.l.le Tramble. Wherever you go, wherever you are, I will always value and trust you.

Richard Abate, my agent, and Karen Thomas, my editor. Thank you for believing in me!

The Fourth Sat.u.r.day crew, Sharline Chiang, Cheo Tyehimba, and Phil Wilhite, you bring me joy.

Felicia Ward, you are an ongoing source of inspiration and wise words.

My friends, my cheerleaders, who believed in me and kept me on the straight and narrow: Piper Kent-Marshall, Yacine Bell, Arlene Hollis, Brenda Thompson, Pamela Thompson, and Stacy Stone, a big light who shined in my world for a little while.

The Voices of Our Nations Arts Foundation (VONA) workshops, and the fabulous authors in that program, provided a powerful, safe place for this new writer to learn and grow strong.

Reading Group Guide 1. In the beginning of SFTT, SFTT, Lena is scattered and no longer able to manage her life. Were there other ways that Lena could have maintained balance in her life? If she had, do you think her marriage would have fallen apart? Lena is scattered and no longer able to manage her life. Were there other ways that Lena could have maintained balance in her life? If she had, do you think her marriage would have fallen apart? 2. What can a younger woman gain from Lena's experience? Does age have anything to do with Lena's situation? 2. What can a younger woman gain from Lena's experience? Does age have anything to do with Lena's situation?3. Lena chose one aspect of Tina Turner's life as a role model for strength. Were there other aspects of Tina's life that helped her as well? 4. Are role models important? Who are your role models? How have their lives inspired you? 4. Are role models important? Who are your role models? How have their lives inspired you?5. What lessons can women learn from Lena's experience?6. Lena chose to leave the life she and Randall built together. What other ways can women regain "self" without giving up what they worked so hard to gain? 7. Lena and Randall talk to their children separately about their divorce. If the four of them had discussed the situation together, do you think Kendrick and Camille would have been less bitter toward Lena? 7. Lena and Randall talk to their children separately about their divorce. If the four of them had discussed the situation together, do you think Kendrick and Camille would have been less bitter toward Lena? 8. Lena tries to explain how she feels about her life to Camille. Can Lena be a role model for Camille? What is it about her mother that Camille should be proud of? 8. Lena tries to explain how she feels about her life to Camille. Can Lena be a role model for Camille? What is it about her mother that Camille should be proud of? 9. Why do you think that Candace comes to Lena's aid at the dinner party? What did Lena learn about friendship from that situation? 9. Why do you think that Candace comes to Lena's aid at the dinner party? What did Lena learn about friendship from that situation?10. When Lena picks up Randall from the airport, what could each have done differently to connect with the other? Or was their marriage already over? 11. Lulu offers this advice to Lena: "... 11. Lulu offers this advice to Lena: "... make make it enough. Make it enough to last until death do you part. I hope you're not thinking about doing something foolish. There's no way you could live like you do without Randall." Given the generational difference between the two women, what could Lena take from this advice and pa.s.s on to Camille? it enough. Make it enough to last until death do you part. I hope you're not thinking about doing something foolish. There's no way you could live like you do without Randall." Given the generational difference between the two women, what could Lena take from this advice and pa.s.s on to Camille? 12. Do you think that Randall was aware that his best friend was flirting with his wife? If so, why didn't he do anything about it? 12. Do you think that Randall was aware that his best friend was flirting with his wife? If so, why didn't he do anything about it? 13. If Lena understood the differences between her and Cheryl, why do you think Lena agreed to go with her to France? 13. If Lena understood the differences between her and Cheryl, why do you think Lena agreed to go with her to France?14. How do the differences between Cheryl and Lena help Lena? What does Lena learn from Cheryl?15. What does Lena learn from her relationship with Harmon? Is he good for her?16. Lena forgives Harmon for past behavior. Is there an old flame in your past like Harmon? What would it take for you to reconnect with that person? 17. Did Lena do anything that hints to what her future with Harmon could be? 17. Did Lena do anything that hints to what her future with Harmon could be?18. What does Bobbie's support mean to Lena? What are the differences between the sisters?19. Why do you think Bobbie decided to visit Lulu?20. What, if anything, did Bobbie learn from Lena?21. If Lena had gone with Randall in Paris, would he have accepted the "new" Lena? How would the two of them have reconciled the changes in Lena? 22. If Lena had accepted Randall's offer in Paris and reunited with him, do you think she would have fallen back into the pattern of their old relationship? 22. If Lena had accepted Randall's offer in Paris and reunited with him, do you think she would have fallen back into the pattern of their old relationship?

Turn the page for a sneak peek at Pa.s.sing Love a novel by Jacqueline E. Luckett

Arm in arm, like sisters, Yvette and Ruby rounded the corner. Buildings, their surfaces chipped and cracked, lined the streets around them: apartments-shutters weathered from neglect, poverty, or both-filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of men, women, and children. A woman behind a table selling small pots of humble flowers that she had cultivated on her balcony. More people walking than riding bicycles. Men with berets, women in straight skirts and sweaters. Repet.i.tions of shallow wrought iron balconies, a geranium pot here and there. A twinkling strand of lights strung between two buildings. Stores where Ruby shopped for food that her mother had never heard of: baguettes, croissants, brioches, bonbons.

Yvette chatted in French and waited while Ruby repeated her words and phrases: How much does it cost? Do you have more? When will my clothes be ready? Can I pay for this a little bit at a time?

"Your French, cherie cherie, is getting better every day. Soon you will speak as well as me, and then you will not have a need anymore for your poor amie amie, Yvette."

"Mais, non, Yvette. We'll be friends forever." Yvette. We'll be friends forever."

Yvette lived with a Negro drummer from North Carolina who'd had more success at getting gigs than Arnett. Yvette had convinced the concierge to rent to Arnett and Ruby the apartment two floors below her and walked with Ruby until she learned her way around the neighborhood. Her kindness kept Ruby going, those first days, until Ruby believed she could make it on her own, pointing to what she needed: toilet paper, coffee, milk, sugar, and fruit.

"Regardez!" Ruby pointed to the open seats at a nearby cafe. Pa.s.sing men tipped their hats at the two women, different in their looks: Yvette blond and pale, Ruby curly-haired and brown in comparison to her friend. "Arnett will practice 'til it's time to go back to the club. He might take a nap, he probably won't eat, and I know he'll take at least two sips from that bottle of brandy in the back of the closet he thinks I don't know about. We'll pretend we're rich and waiting for handsome men to discover us."

"You are not happy with your handsome Arnett?" Yvette laughed. "Oh, cherie, cherie, I wish my Freddie loved me so much!" I wish my Freddie loved me so much!"

"Mais, oui! But a woman has to know that she's attractive to all men."

"Ah, Ruby, we are in the wrong arrondiss.e.m.e.nt arrondiss.e.m.e.nt for wealthy men. Handsome men, yes. Paris is full of them. Like the ones who wait for the beautiful dancers outside for wealthy men. Handsome men, yes. Paris is full of them. Like the ones who wait for the beautiful dancers outside le Casino Royale le Casino Royale and and les Folies-Bergeres. les Folies-Bergeres. If they could afford it, these poor men here with their wives and children waiting for them at home, they would stop and buy If they could afford it, these poor men here with their wives and children waiting for them at home, they would stop and buy un cafe un cafe for us." Yvette looked at her friend. Ruby could have found the best prices on eggs and bread on the days that that was all their money could buy, and chicken or a little meat on the days that Arnett was paid in more than meals or liquor or drugs that got him high enough to forget that he should have asked for money not the good times a few sticks of reefer could bring. Gaining a friend, a woman friend, surprised Ruby, but once she understood Yvette's kind heart, there was no turning back for either of them. " for us." Yvette looked at her friend. Ruby could have found the best prices on eggs and bread on the days that that was all their money could buy, and chicken or a little meat on the days that Arnett was paid in more than meals or liquor or drugs that got him high enough to forget that he should have asked for money not the good times a few sticks of reefer could bring. Gaining a friend, a woman friend, surprised Ruby, but once she understood Yvette's kind heart, there was no turning back for either of them. "Cherie," Yvette asked. "You have found Paris all that you wanted, oui oui?"

"There's no place else I'd rather be." No fields of dandelions, no lawns green with spring rain, no magnolias or june bugs to catch and bind with string, no lightning bugs to wear on fingers like rings. Not the smell of red dirt or its dust on her shoes. All those years ago, Ruby had known Arnett would come for her. She believed no man could hold a woman the way he did and not want to take care of her. This day, and all of their days together, she felt his love. Ruby's face, a new look she'd perfected, encouraged men without words. "I want to be a woman who lives with no regrets."

"Ruby!" Arnett's voice rang out from the other side of the street. His saxophone hung from his neck. The instrument beat against his chest as he paced from one side of the street to the other. He had been playing for so long that his saxophone blended into neighborhood sounds-the bling of a bicycle bell, the clacking of heels hard against the cobblestones, the patter of rain just beginning to fall. Ruby no longer heard it. "Ruby, where are you?"

Ruby leaned back in her chair and tilted it ever so slightly until she disappeared into the shadow of the walls behind her.

"He will see me me, cherie cherie, and then he will know that you are here."

"One minute more." She scooted farther back, her chair moving soundlessly on the planked wood floor. "Sometimes a girl just needs a minute."

"Ruby!" Arnett rushed to the cafe, his eyes wide, hair tousled from fingers working through his waves. "I didn't know where you were."

"You were in one of those spells, baby. I'm right here and see? Yvette is with me."

He stood at the edge of the table and eyed their two cups. Two big men sat behind the women. Arnett glared at them. "I didn't know where you were."

"And you found me." Ruby smiled at Arnett in that way that soothed him when he wallowed in uncertainty. She backed away from her chair and waved at Yvette. They would settle the cost of the afternoon coffee later. Ruby guided Arnett back to the rue Ventimille and walked him up the five spiraling flights of stairs, him holding her hand as if he couldn't make it without her help.

"You're gonna be fine, baby. That man today, he liked you. Just play like you do for me. I'll be there. Aren't I always there?" The door to their room was wide open. She made him sit on their narrow bed and lifted the saxophone from around his neck. Carefully, she rested the sax on its case. She took off her dress and set it on his practice chair, then lay beside Arnett and pondered this change that had come over her man.

In her arms, his body was limp and clammy, drained like his practice had taken his spirit. She rocked and sang a little "G.o.d Bless the Child" until he drifted off. The street lamplights glowed below the window. Trapped in the half-dark and the length of Arnett's body, Ruby was left with nothing to do except wonder why Arnett had become this way in Paris when never in all of the days they wandered away from Mississippi had he been so concerned about his playing.