Jabali’s great-aunt, Ola Kate Shipley was marching down the aisle like Moses through the Red Sea, a fur-trimmed coat flaring behind her despite it not being nearly cold enough for all that. At her side was his mom, Katelyn Shipley-Christopher. She was beautiful and elegant in a simple sweater and slacks. She had the expression of someone who’d lost control of this situation long ago.
“Boy, why you ain’t answer your phone? I texted you three times. You think you grown?” Ola Kate demanded, ignoring everyone else.
“Iamgrown,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “You acting like my parole officer. How you even know I was here?”
“She tracked your location. I did not consent to this outing. I just want to get that on the record,” Katelyn said calmly.
Jabali looked incredulous. “Yougot a tracker onme? Auntie?—”
“Location is for the Lord and for aunties,” Ola Kate declared, brushing him off. “Hello, Kyleigh. You look well. Time has been kind to you. I will not, as soon as I get you alone.”
Then she spotted the girls. Aziza and Zoriah were standing next to the buggy, clutching a box of tinsel garland, eyes big. Ola’s gaze narrowed on Aziza like she’d spotted a rare jewel.
“Hello, my darling Zoriah. And ohhh. There she go,” she cooed at Aziza.
Jabali stepped in front of her on instinct. “Auntie, chill. We’re in public.”
“Move, boy. You blocking my view.” she said, swatting his arm without even looking at him.
He actually stepped aside. I tried not to smile.
Katelyn sighed. “Mama Kate, we talked about this,” she murmured, but it was the weak protest of someone who already knew how this would end.
Ola Kate walked right up to Aziza and bent her short body slightly so they were eye level.
“Well, hello, little stranger,” she said. “Let me see your face.”
Aziza looked at me. I gave her a small nod, even as my heart tried to climb out of my throat.
“O-okay,” my awestruck baby agreed.
Ola Kate cupped her face like it was the most valuable thing she’d ever held, turning it from side to side. “Tell me your name, precious one.”
“I’m Aziza. Who are you?” my daughter asked.
“I’m the great and powerful Ola Kate. Matriarch of the Shipley clan and general menace to the Christopher side. That’s my official title. You can call me Auntie Ola Kate. Everybody else do,” the older woman announced.
“Everybody elsedoes,” Katelyn corrected under her breath.
Ola Kate kissed her teeth. “Girl, hush!”
Aziza blinked. “Okay. Hi, Auntie Ola Kate.”
Ola made a sound like she liked the answer. Her eyes swept Aziza’s face, not missing a thing. Then she straightened a fraction and fired off questions like a prosecutor in the middle of a cross-examination.
“You like books or you like hands?” she asked.
Aziza frowned. “What?”
“Do you like to read or do you like to fight?” Ola Kate clarified.
“Oh! Both. Depends on who start it,” Aziza answered.
Ola’s mouth twitched. “Good. What’s nine times seven?”
Aziza scoffed. “That’s easy. Sixty-three.”
“What you do if somebody talk crazy about your mama?”
