In this tale of forbidden love and rivalry, two of the South’s elite Black families are threatened by a star-crossed romance that might change everything–for readers of Kimberla Lawson Roby.
Carrah Andrews spent her life trying to please her parents and siblings, putting her own hopes aside to work as a chemist at Noir, her family’s cosmetics company. Her dream was to be an author, not spend her days developing beauty serums. Everything changes when Carrah enters a writing contest and lands a book deal. Except she can’t ever tell her parents because: 1) they’d be devastated she wants to leave Noir, and 2) she just hired their biggest rival as her entertainment attorney.
Christopher Chenault is not supposed to cross enemy lines, but he can’t bring himself to turn Carrah away. After all, the families’ enmity doesn’t have to be theirs…especially as more time spent together leads to undeniable attraction.
But when long-held secrets come to light, Carrah and Chris are going to have to decide if they’ll stand by their heritage or embrace who they want to be–and the love they have only just discovered.
Release date:
December 3, 2024
Publisher:
Grand Central Publishing
Print pages:
384
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Carrah’s spine went stiff. She took one last glance at the email from Hurston House Publishing then slammed her laptop shut. She sprang from her desk chair and dashed across her bedroom to the door to cease the pounding knocks from the other side. Before she could turn the knob and open it, her sister, Aubrey, barged into the room.
Carrah folded her arms and made her face tight, successfully camouflaging the anxiety eager to spiral out of control. “You’ve got some nerve, barging in here and calling me by my full name like you’re Mom. My door was closed.”
She evil-eyed her sister. Only for a second, though, since she became captivated by the way Aubrey pranced into the room. Their mother called it the beauty queen charm that had been passed down from mother to daughter. Aubrey was a spitting image of their mother. Above-average height, thin with high cheekbones that accentuated her medium brown skin and made her look like a Vogue cover model. Aubrey embraced their gene pool and used it to her advantage in all facets of life; Carrah was the opposite.
She preferred to wow people with her brains, not beauty. It was already hard enough that people compared her to their great-great-grandmother, who had been known as a beautiful, yet infamous, voodoo queen in New Orleans. Beyond the comparisons that were hauntingly real, and most times hard to accept, because ignorant people claimed she was the woman born again. Beyond the Haint Paint believers, Carrah struggled with traditional conventions applied to beauty. Aside from her long, silk-pressed tresses, she was short and had to count calories while working out like a maniac to maintain her hourglass figure.
“True, but it wasn’t locked.” Aubrey stuck her tongue out at Carrah, releasing a giggle. She then stepped past her, commanding the space as usual while poking her nose around Carrah’s desk. Aubrey’s presence seemed more overwhelming than usual since she had tossed the business suits she normally wore for a more relaxed summer wardrobe that showcased all of her assets.
Typical, they were in the Shores. This was the place her family came to year after year to rejuvenate. The glow radiating from her sister was new, unmistakable, and simply divine as highlighted by the white linen romper she’d paired with dangling gold and diamond-encrusted earrings framing her heart-shaped face.
Aubrey picked up a stack of papers as a questioning expression furrowed her brows. “You should’ve been downstairs twenty minutes ago—you are not even dressed. People have already started to arrive, and we are lining up soon. Please don’t mess around and be late, Carrah. You know our mother and her grand entrances.” She sighed. “Why are you working anyway?”
Carrah moved at the speed of light and snatched the papers from her sister’s hands. What Aubrey held wasn’t exactly work. It was Carrah’s first completed manuscript. A dream she’d forgotten she had until last year when she needed a way to express the suffocating effects of life and the demands her family placed upon her. It was by chance that the universe had wanted her to remember the way she crafted words onto paper and imagined different worlds, and was now ready to grant her wishes true.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Carrah lied. No matter how close they were, Aubrey wasn’t allowed to see the desires lurking in the shadows of her heart because nothing was ever more important to her oldest sibling than Noir Cosmetics, their family’s business. “Dad and Beau have been after me to review the product performance from the trials on the new anti-aging serum.”
Her sister chuckled. “Well, that is important. I decided not to ride your ass because this is supposed to be our downtime and of course the acclaim you garnered from Aimer. Sales have been through the roof on that fragrance. The company hasn’t seen a product command so much attention from the beauty industry in a long time. We waited too long to give you free rein in developing a pipeline.” Aubrey frowned and looked off for a second. “I know how hard you work. Besides, we are all counting on that genius brain of yours to develop the next big thing. Maybe even finally surpass the Olina Chennault Cosmetics Company.”
Carrah held in her sigh. The business rivalry between the Andrewses and the Chennaults started over forty years ago. They were fierce competitors in the industry as two of the most respected Black-owned cosmetics conglomerates in the world. Right now, Chennault had the advantage. They often outspent Noir’s advertising campaigns, gained access to the top shelf for many retailers, and were the preferred choice for Black skin care products.
She was also willing to bet that the person heading their R & D division didn’t have as many restraints. Freedom to innovate could’ve enhanced Noir’s pipeline two years ago. Beyond business, the tension between the two families always seemed to impact Carrah’s summers the most since they all vacationed in the Shores.
Of all the children between the families, she and the oldest Chennault, Christopher, were the closest in age. They shared many friends and were often invited to the same functions. It was hard not to be in the same space. Still, whenever possible, the Andrewses and Chennaults didn’t attend the same parties, mingle in public, or pretend to like each other. This was the way it had been since she was old enough to remember. Hell, she and Chris Chennault had even kept their distance a few weeks ago when they went out on the boat with their mutual friend Duncan McNeal, to Dorian’s Cove.
“It won’t be the serum,” Carrah mumbled, clutching the sheets of paper within her hands that told a love story. The happily ever after she’d written had been the inspiration for Aimer, a fragrance that evoked emotion from a heroine who had loved one man through many lifetimes. “The skin-correcting foundation is going to be the blockbuster product, and it’s far from being ready for trials. Chennault Cosmetics doesn’t have anything like it in market, and if they are considering a formulation, it may be prepping to enter research and development. That is according to a little birdie I know that works there.”
“Honestly.” Aubrey paused, shrugging her shoulders as though nothing Carrah said were important. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll figure it out.”
Carrah blew a long breath, went to her desk, and carefully put the manuscript away. Her family always seemed to need something from her. “Aubrey, you do realize that isn’t fair, right? It can’t only always be me. Mom and Dad have four kids, but I’m the one that has this pressure to produce a blockbuster product that turns the industry upside down and puts us back on top.” Or care for Mom when she’s sick because all of you are too afraid, she wanted to say but didn’t.
“We are heiresses to one of the largest Black-owned cosmetics companies in the world. You sound foolish.” Her sister’s words bit. “Don’t let Mom, Dad, or Beau hear you say that. We all have a part to play that ensures the longevity of this company. Yours is developing new and innovative products. I mean, you are the chemist. You’ve always wanted to do this. You even traded your crown.”
Once upon a time, Carrah thought, and then nodded, knowing that chemistry had really been the equivalent of true love’s kiss. It had freed her from the pageant circuit along with the extra pressure and expectation to fill her mother’s shoes.
Besides, it wasn’t her fault she fell in love with mixing essential oils in Erlenmeyer flasks before pouring them into test tubes or visiting a greenhouse to sniff out the fragrant properties of flowers. Apprehension relaxed and unknotted in her belly as happy thoughts rushed in while she recalled how she used to blend her mother’s old eye shadows together and create new colors. Unintentionally, she had chased her father’s legacy and followed in his footsteps by becoming a chemist while shattering her mother’s dreams for her.
Her mother managed her bitterness by always saying that her father had orchestrated Carrah’s interests by taking her along to his lab, where she had discovered and memorized the periodic chart by thirteen, mixed chemical compounds at fourteen, and created fragrances by sixteen. In truth, Carrah was tired of being dolled up and put on display for people to judge her beauty in a Little Miss This or Miss Teen That Pageant.
Being in a lab behind the scenes was much more appealing than running for Miss America. It was the reason she wasted no time declaring her intent to major in chemistry and becoming the first of her siblings to decline admission to an Ivy League.
She opted to follow her parents’ legacy and attend the historically Black college, Xavier University, before she completed her graduate studies at MIT.
The unfortunate consequence of falling in love with chemistry play sets, blending essential oils, and graduating from her parents’ alma mater was that her siblings believed she was their father’s favorite child. It ruffled her older siblings’ feathers. Especially her brother Beau. The only saving grace was they each believed in her abilities and had confessed that Carrah was the only one who possessed the innovation needed to guide Noir into the next one hundred years. The success of Aimer and the pipeline Carrah had identified proved as much.
So, Aubrey was right. If Carrah had not been distracted with chasing unrealistic dreams, both the serum and foundation would be near ready for market.
“But…” Carrah held her tongue, debating her words. “Haven’t you ever dreamed of doing something different?” There, she finally said it.
“I have only ever imagined working at Noir Cosmetics, being at my father’s side, marketing what you create, watching Beau manage the money, and eventually having Dominic review our complex contracts.” She smirked then stared Carrah in the face. “We planned this out in our tree house and now it’s all come true. Well, almost. Baby bro still has to finish law school. Now isn’t the time for dreams when we have a reality to fulfill.” Her sister’s lips pressed together.
Carrah huffed cynically. She didn’t have the energy to try and explain that life sometimes uncovered and made you remember hidden treasures within. “I’m not sure why I expected a different response from you. Maybe I just hoped that the last year of seeing Mom sick or the joys you’ve found in motherhood had shown you that the life we planned as kids may not be the one we live now.”
A tense silence hung between them, corroding the jovial nature that usually surrounded their relationship. Aubrey looked away for a second, swallowing hard as if she were searching for the right words. The sharp decline in their mother’s health last year had caught them all off guard. It made Carrah reflect on the possibilities that were slipping through her hands. Now, she hoped for something more.
Apparently, it was not the same for her sister. Carrah had decided the unfortunate outcome as Aubrey offered nothing except forcefully brushing past her. “It’s Mom’s birthday. Get dressed. You’re expected to enter with the family.”
The door should’ve slammed behind Aubrey, given her icy words. Except all Carrah heard was the latch clicking against the faceplate, reminding her that there was no escape. She was a fool to think she could change course now. So much had been invested in her to become who and what she was today. No one in her family would understand her contemplation over a glimmer of hope that held no promises.
Not when they were all counting on her genius. Carrah understood she was born into a life full of expectation. Therefore, she removed the last pages of her novel from her desk and packed them away. Maybe one day she would try again. For now, she had to get ready to celebrate her mother and accept that the path she had chosen all those years ago was not one she could abandon for fear of letting everyone else down.
CARRAH DARTED OUT of her room like the March Hare, afraid of not making teatime. She was about to be late, and if she were, she would never hear the end of it. Aubrey had jinxed her, she thought as she raced down the stairs and considered ignoring the ringing of her cell phone.
Carrah relented and pulled the phone to her ear. “Hello.”
“Where are you?” Carrah’s big brother, Beau, shouted in her ear.
“I told her not to be late,” Aubrey hissed in the background.
Carrah paused at the bottom of the stairs and kicked off her shoes then snatched them up into her hands. She sprinted down the west hall of the house. It was the fastest way to get outside to the carriage house from her room. “I’m coming,” she panted. “Be there in a second. Don’t start without me.”
“Ridiculous,” Beau barked before disconnecting.
Carrah disregarded her brother’s palpable disgust and continued moving toward the meeting point for their mother’s second line birthday entrance. After grabbing a Cajun shrimp skewer from a moving appetizer tray while almost bumping into the service staff, she sped up. Once she’d made it to the door that led to the portico, where everyone was staging, she dropped down and quickly put her shoes back on. Just as she was about to exit outside, movement caught her peripheral vision.
“I’m now certain that I am not the only one to have raised the ire of our big brother.” She had turned to gain a better view and watched as her youngest brother, Dominic, emerged from a closet buckling his belt as a girl adjusted her dress.
Carrah breathed a little easier knowing she wasn’t the only one who would owe Beau and Aubrey an apology. Her lips curved until a smirk rested upon her face.
Dominic flashed a smile whereas the girl, who turned out to be the younger sister of her friend Peyton Daniels, darted away in the other direction. “You know I’m irresistible.” He winked and then adjusted his bow tie.
Dominic was a charmer. He stood tall like their father at a good six feet three inches with an athletic build he attributed to football. His wavy hair and ebony eyes were his icing on the cake, and there was never a shortage of girls willing to throw their panties his way. “I know you need to learn to keep that thang in your pants, Nic.”
“Mannnn, watch out!” He chuckled. “You talki—”
A trumpet blared to life. Carrah and Dominic scrambled to the side door, pushing and shoving each other to be the first one out. Carrah was the victor and she gloated by quickly snatching up a parasol and leaving Dominic with a handkerchief. They disregarded the glares from Aubrey and Beau while blending into the sea of family members giddy with excitement.
The Grand Marshal who had been procured to lead their elaborate entrance adjusted his sash, gazed over everyone before he lifted his Stetson, and turned to the front, blowing his whistle. They all began to move forward, following the man’s fancy footwork, as the band’s zest filled the notoriously quiet, sleepy lakeside town with melodies of the Crescent City.
Carrah danced around, twirling her hand-decorated parasol as she kept in step with the brassy sounds of her hometown. There was an unclaimed joy she experienced as she looked over her shoulder, seeing family and friends swing handkerchiefs to the beat of the drum. Her happiness became almost uncontainable when her attention landed on her mother, Camille Andrews, at the front of the processional, waving a feathered fan. The smile upon her mother’s face matched the energy of her body as she strutted toward the event tent, where guests were waiting. It was a glorious sight after months of helping her get around with a walker.
The solid timbre of the trombone ripped through the air and replanted Carrah in the moment. Never had a brass band blared this much to life in the Shores. Mount Dora was unlike the Garden District in New Orleans, which was her primary residence. Life in the Big Easy was fast, colorful, and sadly demanding. By contrast, the Shores offered a slower pace that lingered in nostalgia and allowed time for her mind to rest, reflect, and discover unspoken possibilities.
The bucolic views of green, rolling hills and Lake Dora made the world stand still, and the pressure to be her family’s savior faded away. This was the place she had escaped to summer after summer to leave the cares of the real world behind. Her true friends were here, and they had been since she was old enough to walk.
After all, this was where other like-minded families of the Black elite congregated from May through the end of July. A great sense of belonging always seemed to settle her thirsty spirit during the annual reunions, which were full of lakeside shenanigans. It was the reason she came back even though she was old enough not to.
A flash of royal blue went up into the air before the Grand Marshal buckjumped for joy and caught his snazzy hat. The festivities were in full swing as he continued leading the second line in jubilation fully showcasing the sights and sounds of New Orleans, courtesy of Carrah’s mother. This one time, Camille had decided to liven the night and bring the flavor of her Creole roots to their summer haven to celebrate making one more, hard-fought trip around the sun.
“Happy Birthday, ma mère,” Carrah shouted over the music, laughing as she jumped to her mother’s side. They stood still, indulging in the delicious sounds of rhythm and blues as their hips swayed in sync. There was an undeniable energy and connection that flowed between mother and daughter. She planted a huge kiss on her mother’s cheek. “I love you.”
“Ahh, chérie,” her mother sang through a wide smile before wrapping her long, fair-skinned arms around Carrah. “What a blessed day it is. This time last year I wasn’t sure if I would make it.” The smile tightened upon her mother’s face as water started to well in her eyes.
Carrah fought the emotional roller coaster that would gladly take her to a peak then zoom in and out of loops and bends before dropping her down in a valley she didn’t have enough energy to claw out of. “You’re not allowed to cry tonight, Mama.” Carrah forced a smile upon her face, thumbed a tear from the corner of her mother’s eye, pushed her parasol in the air, and then began twirling again. “It’s your birthday! We’re going to celebrate.”
“You’re right.” Her mother linked elbows with her. “Thank you for being the only one of my children that let me live even when I thought I was dying.” Their eyes met with understanding, and this time it was Carrah unable to control the water pooling in the bottom of her lids. “Sorry, now come, dance with me. Joie de vivre,” she cried out.
Carrah shuffle-stepped with Camille and vowed to forget the way lupus had ravaged her mother’s body last year… at least for tonight. While everyone in attendance this evening would believe the over-the-top festivities were to celebrate Camille’s penchant for the flair on her fifty-sixth, Carrah, her father, and siblings knew tonight honored her strength for being a survivor. And it wasn’t a far-fetched decoy.
Camille, once coroneted as the famed Zulu Queen of Nawlins, was the definition of pomp and circumstance. Hailing from one of Louisiana’s most prominent families that were descendants of the gens de couleur, she lived for ways to expose her rich culture and influence her family still wielded over the place many had nicknamed the Paris of the South.
An earsplitting shrill from the Grand Marshal’s whistle elicited cheers from the crowd of two hundred awaiting them in the distance underneath the event tent. They were already on their feet clapping and swaying to the beat of the music. Laughter and cheers swirled, while handkerchiefs darted into the air to welcome their mother.
Not one person had been able to resist the beat of the bass drum framing the rhythm for the brass instruments that sparked joy, life, and fond memories of growing up in one of the lushest estates within the Garden District of New Orleans as a Creole elite. After a few minutes, the music mellowed until the sounds of the second line faded into applause.
“They’re all here for you, darlin’,” Melvin, Carrah’s father, said as he carved a small space between Carrah and her mother. He kissed his wife on her temple and then winked at Carrah before signaling for her siblings to come to their side. He then turned his attention back to the crowd and gestured for them to reclaim their seats. “Thank you all for joining us this evening. You know my wife loves a good party. This one is extra special.” He paused, swallowing hard as he pulled her into his side and held her tight. “Happy birthday, Camille. Me and the kids love you so much.”
Aubrey grabbed Carrah’s hand tight. Beau and Dominic followed suit. Carrah looked down the line at her siblings and could see the same pride she felt for their parents. Camille and Melvin always commanded their respect and admiration. They had defined love, showed them a healthy marriage, affection, and trust between a man and a woman. However, it was a lesson Carrah had no interest in mastering.
Unlike her sister, who had dutifully married right after graduate school and produced a grandchild, or her oldest brother, Beau, who had tied the knot with his college sweetheart, Carrah simply wished for the scars from her last relationship to heal.
“There is plenty of food, spirits, and the band will be here awhile longer. Enjoy yourselves!” Their father then turned to them. His hard dark eyes skipped over her and Aubrey, and landed on Dominic. “Be on your best behavior. This is a special night, and we don’t need any distractions. Got me.” It wasn’t a question, and yet he still waited for Dominic to acknowledge his words. “Oh, Carrah, I believe Trent will be here tonight. Do show him your best Southern hospitality.” A half smile played on his lips before he spun their mother into the crowd and disappeared.
Carrah battled a wave of nausea at the mention of her ex before turning to her siblings. Aubrey and Beau’s deadpan expressions chased the bile in her throat away. Why hadn’t she escaped like Dominic? “What’d I do now?” Carrah asked, silently counting to twenty to keep her hot head from exploding at the judgment she sensed her older siblings were prepared to cast her way.
“You were almost late,” Beau snapped.
“But I wasn’t,” Carrah quipped back, unable to contain the way her voice had risen a decibel. She never almost did anything; she always gave it… them… her all. “You really want to do this now, big brother?” She gestured to their guests. They had all learned long ago that eyes were always on them.
Especially in a place as small as the Shores.
Beau raised his arms in defeat. “Fine. Just make sure the product performance review is in my in-box by the morning. I’ve tolerated you being on your own time long enough.”
Her brother turned on his heel and walked away. Before Carrah gave her sister an open door to echo Beau’s sentiments or coax her into playing nice with Trent, she ducked into the crowd. The dust hadn’t settled from their earlier exchange, and the resentment over being boxed in and denied the chance to chase her own dreams was still too raw.
On her quest to find the friends she knew were in attendance, Carrah was roped into hostess duties. She bided her time exchanging pleasantries, highlighting her accomplishments that unfortunately left out aspiring to be a novelist while pretending that all had been perfect in the Andrews household despite the battles her mother had fought. By the grace of God, her mother had won. Only, now Carrah realized the fear of not having enough time to accomplish her own dreams.
Once Carrah broke free of her duties, she made a beeline to where Reese Devlin and Peyton Daniels were standing together. They were friends from her family’s inner circle whom she had adored for as long as she could remember, particularly during the summer months when they all came to the Shores. They also shared being legacies of Jack and Jill, and were part of a famed sisterhood that formed when they were presented to society ten years ago as debutantes in the renowned Lakeside Debutante Ball.
A sense of relief passed through Carrah. These were girls, now women, who had been raised like her and understood the complicated world of the Black elite. They understood the high value placed on legacy and family loyalty above all else. It was the only reason she freely contemplated sharing the unsettled emotions doing battle within her to gain Reese and Peyton’s perspectives. Carrah needed assurance that the thoughts plaguing her weren’t as irrational as they seemed since she’d never deviated from the path she was expected to follow. Never mind the fiduciary duties that bound her to Noir.
Except this was one time that her decision to stay on the straight and narrow and remain in her families good graces didn’t feel right. She didn’t know exactly what she was hoping for, but she knew it felt like something was about to slip through her hands. So she had to ask them if forgoing notions of chasing unicorns in order to fulfill family ambitions was foolish or best left deferred?
“Reese, Peyton,” she called. They waved as she began walking to where they stood. She greeted them faire la bise, air-kissing each of their cheeks before looking over her shoulder to make sure her ex hadn’t shown up. “Glad you both could make it!”
“Do you really think my mother would’ve let me miss her favorite soror’s birthday party?” Reese laughed, prompting the same from Carrah. Their mothers were two peas in a pod. It was the very reason Reese and Carrah had become friends as toddlers. “Besides, Ms. Camille would’ve told me about myself at the next debutante activity. She looks great, Carrah.”
Carrah would never confirm the battle her mother endured last year even though she suspected Reese knew since their mothers were close. The secrecy she was sworn to preserved her mother’s frail vanity. Camille cowered at the thought of anyone thinking of her as sick and shut in. She only wanted people to associate her name with strength and beauty.
And while Carrah understood her mother’s sentiments, the mental toll it placed upon her had been unimaginable. Ha. . .
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