The Road to Rose Bend by Naima Simone (best book club books of all time txt) 📕

With a huff, she did as he asked, turning to twist the sink faucets on and wash her hands. “To what do I owe this pleasure? It’s,” she squinted at the rooster clock on the far wall that had been there for as long as he could remember, “two o’clock on a Thursday. I’m happy to see you, but shouldn’t you be at the office or doing something at city hall?”

He shrugged a shoulder and headed toward the wooden island in the middle of the huge kitchen. Platters of chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies along with huge, dark brownies covered nearly half of it. Out of habit, and because they smelled so damn good, he nabbed an oatmeal raisin cookie and bit into it. And didn’t bother containing his groan.

“What do you put into these? Crack?” He stuffed the rest of it into his mouth as she laughed, a touch of pink streaking across her striking cheekbones.

“Now, son, why would I do that when the blood of virgins is much handier?”

“I’m a lawyer, you know.” He arched a brow. “But you can totally buy my silence and cooperation with more baked goods.” He snatched up another cookie, chocolate chip this time. “And to answer your question.” He sighed, the weariness that had temporarily lifted, dropping back on his shoulders like an anvil. “I’m coming from a meeting with Jasper Landon.”

Her nose wrinkled as if something rancid had just entered the kitchen. “’Nuff said.”

“Yeah.” Cole bit into the cookie, chewing slower. “The motorcycle rally is barely over, but he’s already gearing up to find some way to be the Grinch of the Christmas festival.”

“He’s such an ass,” Moe bit out. Anger tinged her cheeks now, not pleasure. She snatched up a mitt and crossed the kitchen to the large oven. “Most people would just accept losing gracefully, but not him. It’s been months since you won, and it still sticks in his craw that not only did he lose, but that he lost to a younger, Latino man. He should be placing the community he’s supposed to serve ahead of his own personal agenda, but not Jasper. He’d rather exercise all his energy toward making you look bad. Racist jerk.”

Though Cole found it hilarious whenever Moe “got her Irish up” as his father put it, Jasper wasn’t worth her ire.

“Most of the people in Rose Bend are good and honest. But then you have some like Jasper. He’s not the only one who doesn’t believe I’m experienced or white enough for the office of mayor.” He smiled at his mom, though a familiar flicker of anger wavered in his chest. “I’ve just come to accept that not everyone doesn’t see color, like you do.”

Moe slammed the oven door shut and dropped a pan of fresh, hot cookies on top of the stove with a clatter. Cole jumped at the sound, startled as she whipped around to pin a fierce scowl on him.

“Don’t you ever accuse me of that.” She jabbed a mitt-covered hand at him. “Of course I see color. To say I didn’t would mean I don’t see your beauty, don’t acknowledge and respect your proud heritage. It would mean I don’t see your strength, the struggles you have to face in life and your resilience to overcome them. It would mean that I, as a white woman, don’t grasp that I have certain privileges granted to me just because of the color of my skin, and that you will encounter hate and bigotry just because of the color of yours. It would mean that I don’t respect that, that I don’t need to do all in my power to support you while not making it about me. It would mean I don’t see you. So no, Coltrane, I see color. And I see the power you possess and the weight you bear because of it.”

He stared at her, blown away, humbled by this woman who’d raised him as her own. Who had never made him feel any different from the children she’d birthed, but still celebrated his differences.

“I honestly didn’t believe it would be possible to love you more than I do, but here we are,” he said.

Moe blinked. Then again, and once more. Chuckling, Cole rounded the island, setting down his half-eaten cookie, and gathered his mother in his arms.

“Good God, please don’t cry,” he teased. “If Dad comes in here and sees that, he’ll haul me out of here and demand to know what I did to ‘his woman.’”

“Oh hush,” she said, squeezing him tight before pushing out of his embrace and shooing him away. “Go sit down and stop saying foolish crap then.”

Laughing, Cole smacked a kiss on the top of her head and grabbed his abandoned cookie before doing as she ordered.

“Now, before everyone returns home, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here. In other words, tell me what’s going on with you and Sydney.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled her patented don’t-give-me-no-bullshit stare on him. He didn’t bother asking how she knew, because this was Rose Bend. Something like Sydney moving in with her parents wouldn’t have remained under wraps for long. “Because that is why you’re here.”

He parted his lips to refute it, but the denial didn’t materialize. Bending his head, he stared at the surface of the oak table where they’d shared many meals with guests and family. She was right. He’d come here seeking comfort, the familiarity of her presence, the no-nonsense of her advice.

“Sydney found out about the house.”

He didn’t look up from the tabletop, but he caught the soft sound of her sandaled feet crossing the floor and the scrape of the chair across from him as she dragged it from under the table. Felt the warm clasp of her hand over his.

“Found out?” she repeated. “Or did you tell her?”

“Jenna Landon told her,” he admitted, still seeing Sydney’s hurt over that every time he closed