Page 58 of Solomon’s Temple

“Yes!” She giggled. “Forgive me, darling. Old people’s brain.” She held her hand out to me, and I took it.

“It’s okay. You have a lovely home, Mrs. Matthews.”

“You can call me Urina, sweetie. And thank you. I have my son to thank for the decor ideas. Come, come. Dinner is done. Dorian is bringing the biscuits from the oven now.”

“Let us wash up for dinner. We’ll join you shortly,” Solomon told her.

“Oh! Right. Okay. You know where the restroom is.” Solomon led me down the hall to the half bathroom. He allowed me to go in first, and I made haste in washing my hands. He then stepped in to do the same.

“Do I look okay?” I whispered to him.

“You look gorgeous, baby.”

“Really? Because your mom looked at me like I was half-naked.”

He chuckled lightly. “You’re fine, bae. You’re overthinking. But if you’re uncomfortable, we can le⁠—”

“No, no. I’m fine and you’re right. I’m just overthinking and nervous.”

“You don’t have to be nervous, love. My people aren’t the threat you think they are.”

“Okay.”

He kissed my forehead. “You’re beautiful. Inside and out.”

I smiled as he took my hand and led me back to the dining room.

“Here they are,” the man I knew was Solomon’s father because they shared the same face, said as he stood from his seat and walked over to us. “Son. Thanks for coming.” They shook hands, then his father looked at me.

“And you must be Temple?”

“I am.” I smiled.

“It’s lovely to meet you, sweetie. Please, have a seat.”

Solomon pulled the chair out for me, then sat beside me once I was situated.

“Let’s bless the food, shall we?” his mother said. “Tempo, would you like to give the blessing?”

“Ma. Her name is Temple with an le not an O.”

“Oops. I’m so sorry.”

I smiled lightly. “It’s okay.” Now I knew I wasn’t tripping. Mrs. Matthews was throwing shade. I knew she remembered my name. We had a whole thirty-minute conversation on the phone when we were in Italy. My name was simple and unique. You didn’t come across many people named Temple, so saying she forgot after Solomon, even confirmed over the phone before we left the house, was shady all in itself.

“Strike one,” Solomon mumbled. I patted his knee under the table to let him know not to stress about it. I was a stranger in their home, and their only son brought me to meet them. I’d probably feel a way about my only son bringing a girl home to meet me too.

“I can give the blessing. No worries,” I told them. I could tell she was feeling me out. She wanted to know if I knew the Lord.

Yeah, okay, Mrs. Urina. I see you, girl.

“Heavenly Father. Thank You for this meal that we have gathered here today to enjoy. Please let it be of nourishment to our bodies and feed our souls. We humbly ask that You bless the hands that prepared it and bless the less fortunate. We thank You, we praise You, in Your name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” they said simultaneously.

Solomon smiled and kissed my hand. “That was beautiful, baby.”

“It was light work,” I jested. Plates were being filled with pot roast, green beans, brown rice with gravy, and buttermilk biscuits.