Apple Brown Betty (37 page)

“He knew,” she whispered. “He knew I was setting him up. He turned himself in.”

“Tired of running,” Desmond replied.

Cydney nodded. She knew the feeling. She let the tears fall. For George and Nancy. For Slay, Shammond. For…her own self.

“
I
named it after an ancient city in Africa,” Desmond said. “Cush. I liked the ring of it from the first moment.”

Mary Roberts, a correspondent from the Today Show smiled and then placed the microphone in front of Cydney. The Today Show was filming a special segment in Asbury Park, mirroring Bruce Springsteen as he toured his adopted hometown, a hometown quickly rising from the ashes. “Your boyfriend has taken the city by storm with this restaurant,” Roberts said to Cydney. “What's your favorite dish?”

“Actually,” Cydney said, “I've been looking forward to a certain dessert that Desmond has been promising to share with me for some time.”

“Ooh, you've got my attention,” Mary said. “What dessert would that be?” “Apple brown betty,” Cydney told her.

Mary Roberts looked at Desmond. “Are you going to make sure this stunning young woman gets her apple brown betty today, Mr. Rucker?”

Desmond nodded. “I most definitely am.”

Bruce Springsteen's folksy voice could be heard in the background, blending in perfectly with the house band. Cush was filled, even more than usual, with patrons eager to get a good meal and possibly a quick run on television. “I'm going to allow you two to continue with your meal,” Mary said, “and meanwhile, for you folks out there in TV land enjoy this impromptu performance from the one and only Bruce Springsteen as we head toward the commercial break.”

Mary politely thanked Desmond and moved with her camera crew to the back of the restaurant, where the performance pit was.

“Are you feeling like a celebrity?” Desmond asked Cydney.

“Going to hold on to my fifteen minutes as long as I can,” she told him.

“My folks wanted Thanksgiving to be the first they saw of you,” Desmond said, “but I figured you'd get a kick out of being on camera with me.”

Cydney smiled, nodded, her thoughts drifting.

“What are you thinking about?” Desmond said.

Cydney sighed. “Thanksgiving,” she said softly.

“What about it?”

“I didn't care over the past few years that I wasn't sharing it with my mother and my brother, but this year…”

“It's going to take some time,” Desmond said.

Cydney nodded her head. “I'm trying to move forward. It's hard, though. I feel so guilty.”

“You have nothing to feel guilty about, Cydney.”

“My mother needed me. I didn't even know she was in the hospital. I should have at least been there to hold her hand as her life slipped away.” Cydney's eyes drifted. “Shammond, in all of his craziness, he was always there for her, always there for me, too, in his own way.”

Desmond sighed, thinking of his own sister and the rough road ahead for her. Luckily, Felicia seemed to have had the courage for the good fight. She'd been feverish in her planning for college, collecting brochures, visiting campuses. “It's a sad situation,” Desmond said.

“My brother made his bed,” Cydney said unconvincingly.

“Yes, he did.”

Cydney's eyes squinted; she looked off behind Desmond. “There's a woman and man over there staring us down.”

Desmond turned. He fought like hell to keep his mouth from dropping open. “She's…she's coming over,” he stammered.

Jacinta approached their table. She wore tan pants and a plush cashmere top. Her eyes were alive like the atmosphere, the music and the mill of voices. Her stroll was strong and assured. She had a beauty about her now that greatly surpassed the beauty she possessed half-naked onstage. She looked happy.

“Mr. Rucker,” she said, extending her hand as she reached the table. “My boyfriend and I've been standing there for a few minutes trying to figure out if I should approach your table. Your restaurant is just fabulous.” She turned to Cydney, smiling. “You must be so proud of your husband.”

“Boyfriend,” Cydney said. “And yes, I'm very proud of him.”

“Boyfriend, that's it?” Jacinta frowned. “Work on him, girl.” She turned and looked at the man she'd just left. He smiled and nodded. She turned back to Cydney. “I'm working on mine, too. It's still very early, but so far, so good. Think he might be the one. Pray for a sistah, please.” “I will,” Cydney said.

“Thanks for your compliments,” Desmond cut in.

Jacinta nodded. “You're quite welcome. And, oh, by the way—”

Desmond flinched. Here it came.

“My name is Mona,” Jacinta said. “I didn't mean to be rude.”

Desmond's shoulders eased back against his chair. He started to breathe freely again. “Well, thanks, Mona.”

Jacinta nodded. “You two enjoy your meal—” she looked to Cydney “—and, sister, you work on getting that ring like I said.”

Cydney smiled, nodded. “Same to you, Mona.”

Jacinta walked off.

“What a nice woman,” Cydney said. “You're touching so many people with this place.”

Desmond shook his head, watched Jacinta move toward the front of the restaurant. “So you want a ring?” he asked Cydney.

Cydney was in the process of sipping her lemonade. “Hmm…Yes, when the time is right, with the right guy.”

“You think I can be the right guy someday?”

Cydney smiled. “I like your chances.”

Desmond patted the table. “What do you say we order our dessert now?”

Cydney rubbed her hand over her stomach. “Let's do it. I saved some space, hoping you'd ask.”

Desmond gestured for one of his waitresses. When the waitress arrived, he smiled at her warmly. “We'll have an apple brown betty, one plate, two spoons.” When the waitress walked off Desmond turned that warm smile onto Cydney.

“Why the wide smile?” Cydney asked.

“I've been waiting for this for a long time, to share an apple brown betty with you.”

“You just have a sweet tooth.”

Desmond's eyes narrowed and he studied Cydney closely. “I sure do, sweet Miss Wonderful. I sure do.”