Mama whips a glance at me, rolls her eyes and relinquishes a tiny smile. Against my will and better judgment, my lips quirk, too. Our clashes of will usually end in mutual respect.

“Look,” Mama says, “I know Keith has some growing to do, but no one’s perfect. Your daddy certainly wasn’t when we first got married.”

“I repeat. Are you saying Daddy cheated on you?”

Mama’s expression closes. She pulls her lashes down and tightens her lips at the corners. “Your father was faithful our entire marriage, as far as I know, and he was the kind of man who couldn’t have lived with that lie. So…no, he didn’t cheat.”

Relief releases the breath I was holding. “I don’t expect Keith to be perfect, but I do expect him to do better and to be prepared.”

“His heart is in the right place. He’s not corrupt like some of these folks running for office. If you’ll be in Georgia anyway, helping Congressman Ruiz run for governor, it’ll be easier to advise Keith, too.”

My shoulders, held battle-tense, relax a bit. “We’ll see. Ruiz has to choose me first. There are a few firms he’s considering.”

“Considering?” Mamas brows snap together. “Did he not see what you did for Maxim Cade?”

“Well, Maxim is a once-in-a-lifetime candidate. Charlie Brown probably could have managed that campaign and won.”

“Don’t do that, Tru,” Mama says, eyes narrowed, voice dropped. “They diminish us enough without you making yourself small. You descend from queens. And I’m not talking about going all the way back to Africa. I’m talking about your grandmother who put her life on the line as a freedom rider. Your aunt who was a pastor when they said women couldn’t be and led one of the largest congregations in the South. Your great-great grandmother, who, with a sixth-grade education, opened her own restaurant and became one of the wealthiest women in this city.”

“I know, Mama.” I chuckle at her shaking the branches of the family tree to make her point. “You’ve told us a million times.”

“Well don’t you forget it. Congressman Ruiz would be lucky to have you manage his campaign, and better hope you’re still available and interested by the time he realizes it.”

“That part,” I agree, feeling some of my usual confidence surfacing. I reach across and touch her hand. “Thank you, Mama.”

She squeezes my hand briefly before pulling away to eat her breakfast.

“And I’ll see what I can do for Keith,” I say grudgingly. “At least sit down with him and hear where his head is at.”

Mama nods. “Thank you. I’m the first to admit he’s not always…responsible, but he has potential. If your father were still around…”