In the Light of Love. Deborah Fletcher Mello

me a car?” she asked hesitantly, looking from one to the other.

      Mary’s excitement burst out in glee as she pulled her daughter into a warm hug. “Daddy picked out a pretty new car for you. It’s blue with gray seats. It’s in the driveway. Go look,” the woman said in one big breath, gasping for air as she finished.

      Her father nodded. “Happy birthday, pumpkin!” he exclaimed for a second time.

      Talisa stood shocked, her limbs tied to the floor. “I don’t believe this. Daddy, why would you buy me a car? You and Mommy can’t afford this!”

      Her mother bristled. “Don’t tell us what we can afford. Your daddy and I know what we can afford and what we can’t.” The woman’s tone was suddenly hostile.

      Her father defused the moment quickly, resting a large hand against his wife’s forearm. “Your mama and I been saving up for this since you turned eighteen, Talisa. We’ve been putting a little away every month. I thought we’d have been able to do it when you graduated college, but that’s when I lost my job at the plant. After I started driving buses for the city, we just kept on saving. We wanted you to have something special and since turning twenty-five is a special time, today was as good as any other.”

      Talisa’s hair swayed from side to side as she shook her head. She reached to hug her father and then her mother. “I love you both so much.”

      “Well, don’t just stand there,” her mother admonished, the smile returning to her face. “Get dressed. I gots to go to the store and I want to ride in that nice new car.”

      Talisa pulled her new car into the parking lot of the Crowne Plaza Atlanta hotel, Mya Taft, one of her closest friends, riding shotgun beside her. The two women were laughing heartily as they exited the vehicle, one just as excited as the other.

      “I plan to bid on every tall, Mandingo brother with big feet and an even bigger bankbook,” Mya said as they made their way toward the front of the building.

      Talisa laughed. “Why does he have to be big?”

      “Small men make me nervous. I want a man who eats well, eats often, and isn’t afraid to give me a taste when the moment moves me. And you know if his feet are large, then the rest of him won’t be a disappointment.”

      “You are a sick woman,” Talisa said with a chuckle as the two women gave each other a high five.

      “Where’d you get that dress?” Mya asked as Talisa removed her jacket, admiring the turquoise, floral-printed, silk sundress her friend wore. “’Cause that dress is wearing you, girl!” she exclaimed.

      “The new Bloomingdale’s in Lenox Square.”

      “I never find anything at that store. You make me sick.”

      “Like you don’t look good in that size-two slip you have on.”

      Mya laughed, doing a fashion model strut and spin in the middle of the hotel lobby, flipping the jacket she’d just removed over her shoulder. “Okay. I do look good, don’t I?”

      Talisa clasped her arm through the other woman’s. “We both look good. Now let’s just hope these men tonight are worth all the trouble.”

      As the duo entered the ballroom, stopping first to register at the reception table, they were instantly in awe of the elaborate decorations. Playing with a New Orleans masked ball theme, the decorating committee had outdone themselves. The décor was exotic and sensual. The tables were dressed in white linens with gold and black accented table runners. A large runway had been built room center, the massive structure skirted in a coordinating harlequin print, and miniature white lights sparkled against the high ceilings. With registration, each attendee was given an updated auction catalog and an exquisite Venetian mask on a scrolled wooden handle. An assigned number adorned the back of the mask to be used as the bidding paddle. The gathering of women, varying in shades and sizes, was duly impressed.

      Talisa and Mya rushed to their table, greeting the rest of their party who sat waiting for them.

      “What took you two so long?” Benita Rivers asked, rising from her seat to give them each a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. Her café au lait complexion was flushed with color that highlighted her reddish-brown afro.

      “We were beginning to think your old butt wasn’t coming,” Leila Brimmer added, gesturing for them to take a seat.

      “Who are you calling old?” Talisa said as she settled herself comfortably against the cushioned seat.

      “I’m calling you old,” her best friend responded teasingly. “Happy birthday, woman!” Leila twirled one of her ebony curls around her index finger. Laugh lines pulled at her thin face, her mahogany complexion shining with glee.

      Talisa grinned. “Thank you. And I’m not old. I’m just aging nicely. Like fine wine.”

      “Like she can talk,” Benita interjected. “Who turned twenty-five last month?”

      “I’m still twenty-one and I’ll deny anything else,” the other woman laughed.

      Benita rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Just like you’re still a virgin.”

      The women laughed again. Talisa’s gaze scanned the perimeter of the room, noting the landscape of primped and perfumed women, each dressed to the nines, hair and nails meticulous. “What did we miss?” she asked, taking a mental note of the elderly piano player who sat in the left corner, his fingers skating easily over the piano keys.

      Leila shook her head. “Not much. I picked up our tickets for the champagne reception in the VIP suite. We’ll get to mingle with the bachelors before this thing gets started. Spend some quality one-on-one time as we decide which ones will be our future husbands.”

      “We should be so lucky,” Mya responded as she peered into a compact mirror pulled from her purse.

      Talisa shook her head. “How’d you swing tickets for the reception? I heard it was by invitation only.”

      Leila shrugged. “The only invitation we needed was the required five-hundred-dollar donation for the tickets.”

      Talisa spun around in her seat, her mouth falling open in shock. “Five hundred dollars? You spent five hundred dollars for reception tickets?”

      Leila laughed. “No. I spent two thousand dollars for reception tickets. We needed four of them,” she said, pointing to each of them in turn. “I told you we were going to celebrate your birthday in high style.”

      “You’ve lost your mind,” Talisa exclaimed. “I can’t believe you!”

      Her friend laughed again. “Well, let’s head on up so you can believe me.”

      Mya patted at her lipstick. “I hope you don’t expect me to pay you back, Leila. You know I’m broke. I don’t have a high-powered lawyer’s job like you do.”

      Leila rolled her eyes. “It’s a gift, Mya. A gift for all of us. Just make it worth my investment and find yourself a man. Please, do us all that favor.”

      Talisa laughed. “I declare! For five hundred dollars, they should give us a private reception, an engagement ring, and the two point three kids with a dog.”

      “Please, don’t act poor when we get upstairs, Talisa,” Mya admonished. “Just pretend we at least know what money is.”

      “You mean just pretend we have money we don’t,” Talisa said, her head waving from side to side.

      “It’s all tax-deductible and I need as many deductions as I can get,” Leila said. “Besides, we’re here to support the cause, remember?”

      “I’m here to catch me a rich husband.” Mya laughed. “You can be here for any reason you want.”

      Crossing through the lobby, the four women made their way to the elevators on the south side of the building, pushing the button to the upper-level suite