Enola walked, with her luggage, through the airport. Just before making it to the exit through arrivals, she noticed a tall, white man resembling Herman Munster, holding up a sign that read: ENOLA ROUX.

She walked towards the giant of a man and said, “I’m Enola,” while handing him her luggage.

She followed the man out of the sliding doors into a more than luxurious limousine. Neither the car, nor the driver was a surprise to Enola. Even with her down-home swamp values, her Grand-Mere Marie was a wealthy woman. She had created a haircare line that was used by whites and blacks alike. Once she became bored with “Corporate America”, she went public and retired. Marie LaRue was a shrewd businesswoman and a true child of Louisiana. No matter how much money she made, she could still be found tending her crops or shelling peas from the rocking chair on her front porch.

Thankfully, on the way to her grandmother’s house, the driver avoided the French Quarter. At seven o’clock at night, getting through the traffic in the quarter would have been nearly impossible. Enola relaxed in the backseat as they drove through the busy city, until they were just outside of New Orleans. They were in Destrehan, where the large plantations were located. Memories flooded Enola’s brain as they pulled into her grandmother’s massive plantation. They drove through the greenest of crops, and the most colorful floral brocade that appeared to be an army standing at attention.

And it felt like home.

It was home. Her Grandma Marie had instilled the entire history of their colorful family in Enola since she could remember. Their entire line had lived on the enormous plantation since their arrival from West Africa; first as slaves, then as free people, and ultimately proprietors. The large, white mansion, with refurbished slave quarters in the rear, on the outskirts of New Orleans, was her family’s legacy.

The driver maneuvered the circular driveway and stopped in front of the plantation’s large front porch. Enola’s aunt, Ruby, along with a host of the house staff were waiting out front. Looking at her well-dressed aunt and the very proper staff, Enola wished that she had dressed better. Once the limousine came to a complete stop, Enola hopped out and hurried to her aunt.

The sight of Ruby, with her arms outstretched, was comforting. Her yellow sundress and long braids were blowing in the wind, and her bronze skin was glowing under the warm sun. Ruby was beautiful, and she knew it. Ruby could play almost any man like a fiddle. She used her looks and charm to bring the most stubborn of men to their knees.

“Welcome, baby girl,” Ruby breathed as they embraced.

“It’s good to see you, Ruby.”

Ruby stepped back and inspected Enola with signature family hazels. “You lookin’ good, girl.”

Enola smiled, shaking her head. “Naw, you’re the one. You look amazing.”

“Ah, stop,” Ruby dismissed, waving her hand. “My best days are behind me. Come. I’ll take you to your room so that you can freshen up. Gary will bring your bags up.”

“Okay. Hey, where’s Margo?”

Marguerite, or Margo as the family called her, was Ruby’s daughter. She and Enola were close to the same age. Since children, she and Margo were thick as thieves. Not even the distance between Chicago and New Orleans was enough to cause them to lose touch. They talked on the phone, at the very least, three times a week.

“Hell, who knows?” Ruby scoffed. “She’s hardly ever home. She works hard, but parties harder. She’ll be rolling her ass in sooner or later.”

Ruby linked their arms and escorted Enola past massive pillars, into her grandmother’s enormous home. As soon as she entered, memories of her happy childhood flooded her thoughts. Unfortunately, so did the not-so-happy memories.

Enola was suddenly confronted by images of her beautiful mother, Olivia. She’d died a few years back from complications stemming from Lupus. Sadness washed over Enola as she entered the elegant, old world parlor. As if reading her mind, Ruby stopped walking and pulled Enola into her arms.

“I miss her too,” she whispered.

Enola mourned silently as she held tight to her aunt. The warmth of Ruby’s touch was comforting, but she must have held on too long because her aunt was suddenly struggling to get away.

Enola stepped back. Ruby inhaled and blew out a harsh breath while wiping sweat from her face. She appeared to be having some sort of panic attack.

“Ruby, are you okay?” Enola asked, reaching out to her aunt.

Ruby took a quick step back, avoiding Enola’s touch.

“Aunt Ruby?”

Enola was concerned. Her aunt seemed completely frazzled.

“I’m fine, sweetie. These damn hot flashes…whoo!”

“Oh,” Enola said, still concerned. “You sure you're okay?”

“Yeah, girl. Now, come on. Let me get you to your room.”

“O-okay.”

Ruby led Enola up the stairs and to her room without touching her once. Once she was inside, Ruby quickly retreated down the hall.

Damn! Hot flashes ain't no joke.