The click-clack of the Christian Louboutin spiked heels announced Samiyah’s presence when she walked through the door of her mother’s three-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bathroom townhome. Composed in a black blouse and dark denim jeans, Samiyah removed her double-breasted coat and flung it over the sofa as she strolled through in search of Martha Jean.

Stepping into view, Martha Jean held up a .22 magnum revolver aimed at Samiyah.

“Mom!” Samiyah screeched, holding up her hands. “Don’t shoot. It’s me!”

Slowly, Martha Jean lowered her weapon. “You better say something when you come through my door then. You know I don’t play that.”

At 54, Martha Jean was a force to be reckoned with. She pocketed her gun and plastered a smile on her gracefully aging face.

“What brings you here today, baby?” she asked.

“Why do you have a gun?”

Martha Jean frowned. “To protect myself, why else?” she said as if it were common sense.

“From who, this is a good neighborhood. Jonas and I would’ve never moved you here if we didn’t think so.”

Martha Jean shrugged. “I don’t know these people around here, and I’m a single woman living alone. Would you rather me pretend crime doesn’t happen, even in the best of places? Or would you rather me be prepared just in case?”

Samiyah couldn’t argue with her mother there.

“I’m just saying, Mom. I don’t want you to make a mistake and shoot your only child one day. I’d like to live to see my children’s children.”

At the mention of Samiyah’s pregnancy, Martha Jean smiled. “You mean you want to be able to see your grandkids,” she corrected.

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said children’s children.”

“That’s the same thing, Momma. I’d just rather call it a glam mom or something. I’m too young to be anybody’s grandmother.”

Martha Jean chuckled. “You won’t be by the time those babies are grown.” She twirled around and left the hallway, walking back into the room she’d sprung out of.

Samiyah followed her into what Martha Jean called her “makeup room.” It was a full bedroom designed just for Martha Jean’s vanity area. She swore when Jonas and Samiyah moved her in that it was imperative that she have one. There was floor to ceiling mirrors attached to the walls, and half of the room was used as a storage closet. Whenever her mother was inside, Samiyah figured she was playing dress up. But today she wondered what her mother was up to.

“What are you doing in here, got a hot date or something?” Samiyah asked.

“For your information,” Martha Jean’s lips rose into a pleasant smile, “I do.”

Samiyah arched a brow and sat her hands on her hips. “With who and why haven’t I been introduced to this person?”

“Oh honey, you know him. Very well.”

Samiyah gave her mother a pensive look. “Please tell me this has nothing to do with my father-in-law.”

Martha wiggled her eyebrows. “Why not? We can make him your real daddy after I’m through with him.”

Samiyah groaned. Ever since she and Jonas married, Martha Jean had been flirty with Jonas’ father Christopher Lee Rose. The man had never shown any interest in Martha Jean, only doing things that were in his nature, like being polite, offering her a helping hand when she was around, and being the charismatic gentleman that he was. It was easy to be charmed by such a man. If Christopher’s sons were a mirror of him, Samiyah could only imagine the type of enchantment Christopher could have over a woman. Especially if he could have butterflies dancing around Martha Jean’s head. The woman had been a brute and sworn off men for so long Samiyah was sure she would be alone for the rest of her life.

But to Samiyah’s horror, Martha Jean was smitten with Christopher. Imagine that. “I thought you swore off men?” Samiyah said, watching her mother apply mascara to her eyes.

“I never said that,” Martha Jean remarked.

Samiyah scoffed. “Lies,” she said.

Martha Jean turned toward her only child. “Did you just call your mother a liar?”

“I did. I’ve been on the receiving end of too many of your rants for you to stand there and blatantly lie in my face.” At the scathing look on Martha Jean’s face, Samiyah crossed her arms and stuck to her guns. “You can’t get me to backtrack because of that look. I said what I said. You’re lying. Why do you all of a sudden want a man?”

“Well, I am a woman,” Martha Jean scolded. “I did have you, didn’t I? My body still works, hell.” Martha Jean turned back to her mirror and continued to apply the mascara.

Rolling her eyes and unfolding her arms, Samiyah stepped in, taking the makeup out of Martha Jean’s hands to help her complete the look.

“And besides,” Martha Jean continued, “it’s not any man that I want. It’s that fine ass father-in-law of yours.”

Samiyah couldn’t help but smirk. “Mom, really?” she said as she continued to apply Martha’s foundation.

“Mmhmm, yes, really. You’ll have sisters and brothers in no time.”

“Eww, Mom!”

“What?” her mother shouted along with her. “Don’t you want siblings? You used to complain all the time when you were young. So now that you’re all grown and stuff you’ve changed your mind?”

Samiyah blew out a huge breath. “Mom, I have sisters and brothers. I have six brothers and seven sisters now. I don’t need you going and making more, but thanks for thinking of me,” she said sarcastically.

Martha Jean rolled her eyes. “You’re an only child, I don’t know where all of these make-believe children are you’re speaking of.”

“Whether you want to acknowledge them or not, Jonas’ brothers are now my brothers and his sisters, along with Claudia, Octavia, Santana, and Desiree. Did you forget about them?”

“Claudia, Octavia, Santana, and Desiree married into the family. They don’t count as real in-laws.”

Samiyah sat the makeup compact down and stared at her mother head-on. “Don’t you ever say that in public, especially around them. I have a hard enough time apologizing for your rudeness when you just let stuff fly out of your mouth.”

“Well stop apologizing for me then. I didn’t ask you for any favors.”

“But I’m asking you for some. Please, for the love of God, don’t.”

Martha Jean stuck her lips out as Samiyah grabbed a comb and took it through Martha’s thin gray strands that fell to her shoulders.

“I love this color on you, by the way,” Samiyah said in reference to the straight silver strands.

Martha Jean perked up. “I do, too. My hairdresser is fantastic.”

“Stylist, Mom.”

“What?” Martha Jean said.

“It’s called a stylist, not a hairdresser.”

Martha Jean poked her lip out. “I’m old school, and back in my day, we called them hairdressers not all this modern age new stuff y’all got going on.”

Samiyah sat the comb down. “Come on, Ma, let’s go.”

It was December fifteenth, ten days before Christmas, and Samiyah had shown up to take Martha Jean to their tailor so she could be fitted for a custom gown for the Jan’s Roses gala at the end of the week. Jan’s Roses was a nonprofit organization devoted to assisting families of home invasions.

It was dedicated to Jonas’ late mother Janet Rose, who passed away from a home invasion.

Martha Jean retrieved the handheld mirror and twirled to check out the back of her hair and get a close up of her makeup.

Samiyah still couldn’t believe Martha Jean was smitten with a man. Any man. Never in her thirty-four years would she have ever expected it.

“You look fine, let’s go,” Samiyah reiterated.

“Mmhmm, I’ll be the judge of that,” Marth Jean quipped.

“You act like you’re going to see him today or something.”

“I plan to facetime him as soon as you show me how to work this iPhone.”

“I wasn’t aware you had his number.”

Martha Jean smiled deviously. “I don’t tell you everything.” She turned and left the room. “Come on,” she said, tossing the words behind her.

“Lord have mercy,” Samiyah said. “Fix It, Jesus,” she whispered, walking into the hallway behind her mother.

“No need to call on the Lord,” Martha Jean surmised. “Jesus is all about family, and I’m trying to give you a bigger one.” Samiyah cringed on the inside. She hoped her mother wouldn’t get too happy about being the one for Christopher Lee Rose.

The man had been single since his wife died over twenty years ago, and for some reason, Samiyah didn’t think it would be her mother’s outstanding persona that would win him over. However, what did she know? Samiyah was simply hoping beyond hope that Martha Jean wouldn’t further embarrass herself, or her child.

“Just so you know, I think Adeline has a thing for Christopher, too,” Samiyah said in the hopes that Martha Jean would slow her roll, but that seemed to boost her sails.

Turning sharply, Martha Jean folded her arms. “That old hag ain’t got nothing on me. Christopher would be a fool to even slightly consider her.”

Adeline Stevens was Samiyah’s best friend Claudia’s mother. “I think she’s the same age as you, so you might want to hold off on the old jokes.”

Martha puffed. “Whose child are you?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be on my side. And no, that old hag,” Martha said, bucking her eyes, “is like ninety-eight or something.”

Samiyah fell into a guffaw. Crossing her hands over her stomach, she laughed heartily as they stepped outside on the front porch, and Martha locked her door.

“What’s so funny?” Martha said.

“You are.” Samiyah wrapped her arm within Martha Jean’s. “You know good and well that Adeline isn’t ninety-eight. You’re just being catty.”

“Hmph, could’ve fooled me,” she grumbled as they stepped off the porch, headed for the boutique.