“I wouldn’t miss your food for anything in the world.” He kissed her cheeks and smiled at her.
Kimberly felt the sensation all the way to her toes. It was not jealousy, she told herself. It was only surprise that a smile would look so good on him. Besides, why would she be jealous if he kissed and smiled at a woman? He could kiss every woman in the country and she couldn’t care less. He meant nothing to her, absolutely nothing.
“Everyone,” Jessica called for attention, “I want you to meet my friends and colleagues. They are visiting for a few weeks. This is Emmanuel Kuma and this is Aryetey Ladipole. You have already met Kimberly. These,” she gestured toward two men in matching batakari, “are Abdul and Baba. They’ve been working here on the land for as long as I can remember. And these are Fati and her daughter Grace. They cook for both the workers and hired labour.”
After all the introductions and handshakes, Emma said to Grace, “I heard you serve the best beef in town.”
“It’s exaggerated.” Kimberly watched the woman say and smile shyly at Emma.
“No, it’s not. Your food is superb. Is that not so, Baba?” Hussein asked the old man.
“You said it right. The skill is definitely passed on from mother to daughter.” Baba replied before taking another huge bite off his beef. “If my sons weren’t married already, she would be married to one of them. Listen to me boy, don’t let treasure like this slip through your fingers like that. She’s good wife material.”
Hussein laughed. It was a rich baritone that filled the tent and carried outside. “I’m considering it, Baba. But I warn you, you won’t be eating her food anymore if I make her my wife.”
“Not if I steal her first,” Emma added and they all laughed. All of them, except Kimberly. The last piece of beef suddenly tasted like ashes in her mouth. “Your cousin will not have me, so I’ll have your cook,” Emma added as he shot a quick glance at Jessica. She did not bat an eyelid.
“Grace is more than a cook,” Hussein said seriously. “She’s the workers’ saviour.”
“That’s enough,” the subject of attention said. “Are you going to sit down and eat or are you going to stand and praise me all day?” She pushed Hussein toward a stool beside Baba. Charlie and Ladipole sat by him, and Jessica and Emma took the seats on either side of Kimberly.
After she had served them and refilled Baba’s and Abdul’s bowls, Grace asked Kimberly, “Do you want me to refill?”
Kimberly shook her head and managed a small smile. She had no reason to dislike Grace and she hated herself for doing so. Grace seemed to be a good woman –the perfect wife material –and an excellent cook to boot.
“I hope you enjoyed the food.” Grace smiled at her.
“Yes, I did. It was very good. Thank you for it.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” Her smile widened.
“Will you be staying for the festivals?” Abdul spoke for the first time.
“Yes,” Ladipole answered. “I’ve heard so much about it but never witnessed it.”
“I don’t think I’ll stay long enough to witness it,” Kimberly said.
“Why not?” Baba asked. “It’s fun and you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I would. However, I have a lot of other things to take care of at home.”
Hussein felt the disappointment shoot through him. He had not considered that she might go back to Accra sooner than he hoped. “You should not waste a chance like this,” he said. “You might never come back.” He waited for her reply but there was none. She did not even look at him while he spoke.
He had had enough of her snubbing him. He put his plate down with more force than needed and stood up. “I’m going to check if everything is in place for market,” he said to Jessica. “I won’t be at the Big House tonight.”
“Okay,” Jessica said, used to her cousin sleeping in the workers’ house on occasions. He left without a backward glance.
Good riddance, Kimberly thought. She didn’t need him intruding on her evening calls every night –nor her thoughts. She raised her head to find Grace staring after him. Was it her imagination or did she really see longing in the eyes of the cook?
It had been a week since Hussein had last stepped in the Big House. On the night of the day he had decided to stay away, he had slept in the workers’ house. But after three nights of incessant questioning and pestering from Baba who as usual, knew it all, he had finally moved to his own uncompleted house.
It was some distance away from the main family house but still on Mubarak land. The master bedroom, a bathroom, the kitchen and two other rooms and the hall were completed and sparsely furnished from the nights he had slept in.
He had designed the house himself, hoping that one day he would stay there with his own family away from the noise of the Big House –but not too far. What he had not expected was for the Big House to suddenly become a ghost of its past self.
Hussein stared at the ceiling of the master bedroom wondering why he had let a woman drive him out of his family house.
Because you are too arrogant to apologise for your mistake, a little voice taunted.
I’m not arrogant.
Yes, you are.
It was just a slip of tongue.
And a mistake nonetheless.
Maybe, but she didn’t have to be high and mighty about it.
She only expected an apology.
“I’m not arguing with myself,” Hussein shouted at the ceiling. “Tomorrow, I shall apologise to Kimberly.” He had been unable to think of anything nor anyone aside from the one woman he had wanted to get away from.
Every night like now, when he lay back on his big empty bed, he imagined a million ways he could make her warm up to him. Even when his head told him she was the one woman who would not bend to his will. It was pure torture yet it did not stop his imagination from running wild. He had never experienced such potent urge for any other woman. There was something about Kimberly Greene that called out to him. That made him want to touch her, to keep her close and safe. It was almost magnetic and he had felt it the minute he had seen her.
And he was almost sure that she felt it too. She might fight it and hide it behind a wall of haughtiness, but there was no denying it. She would not have been so receptive of his kiss if she hadn’t felt the attraction as well, and that was all the encouragement he needed. It was a good start.
Encouragement and a good start for what? the voice asked again.
He yanked the pillow from under his head and threw it at the ceiling.
