Surely this was a gray Sweet had never laid eyes on. The air was thick with something other than fog. She longed for the familiar of Harlem, for the brownstone she adored on Sugar Hill. She missed her old life already. But Lou said things would be different here, that “Negroes were looking opportunity square in the face.” He made it sound like a promised land with steaming automobile factories and businesses owned by colored folk.

Sweet Divine stared into the concrete maze that she would somehow manage to call home. As the car’s engine roared she stared into dry, dull faces and watched them watch her through the window’s glare.

“Sweet?”

Startled by the sound of Papa Lou’s heavy voice, she jumped a little, shaken from her musing.

“You okay?”

“Yes, Lou I’m fine.”

“I know you fine but…”

And she was off again, into some imaginary distance that led her back to Harlem. Lou’s words trailed off, Sweet refusing to follow. She seemed to be fixed on how things used to be. She thought about the 2 pounds of thinly sliced brisket she’d gotten from Jimmy’s a Sunday ago and how he always gave her the finest cuts. She thought about Lucille and the hot forks she’d use to straighten nappy heads. She missed the sound of Ruby singing sweet lullabies when she thought no one was listening. But she trusted Lou, so if he said they’d be fine in Detroit, Black Bottom he called it, then they’d be fine. He never lied to Sweet, so whatever he said was going to happen, more than likely it would. Lou was a good man, a provider in every sense. She thought about him now and how she’d been so lucky. She glanced over remembering the first time their eyes met, grabbed his hand, drew it to her lips and kissed it.

It was the end of winter and Detroit to Sweet looked like one huge prison yard. It was hard and chilly. “I don’t wanna be here,” she thought.

“Baby? You sure you awright?” he said gently stroking her creamy cheek with the back of the hand she’d kissed.

“Yes, I’m perfect.”

“Sweet, I know this ain’t your ideal place to be, but things’ll be awright for us here, you’ll see.”

She gave a faint half smile, watching the view from the car window. They pulled into a driveway where next to it rested a mountain of red brick. It had a southern look to it, a large porch rounding the exterior, a screened in wooden swing. Lou was anxious. He’d hardly put the car in park, before he was at the passenger door.

“See Sweet, I had ‘em paint the door red just for you.”

Her mother had always told her that behind a red door was always peace; behind this one, was beautifully decorated space. While she became acquainted with her new digs, Sweet allowed the love she had for Lou to nestle quietly in her private places. Their seven year old daughter, Veda raced anxiously through the homes rococo interior opening doors, in and out of rooms, deciding where to have tea with dolls and imaginary friends.

She ran to greet Sweet Divine and Papa Lou in the airy upstairs vestibule. The wooden floors were so spectacular that in them she could see her full image. She stopped for a moment, in her own tracks, nearly startled by the little girl peering back at her in flyaway pigtails and rubber galoshes. She looked up and saw her mother. Oh how she admired that woman. She loved Divine, sweet Divine. Between them was a mutual kind of love-respect. Veda could convey an opinion or thought without fear. Divine would listen with all she had, gave people the benefit of the doubt and always gave them the opportunity to teach her something, especially little Veda.

“I love it Papa, can I have this room?” she said motioning toward a large canopy bed blanketed by canary yellow and lace.

Papa Lou picked Veda up and twirled her about playfully, “Little Miss, you can have any room you want, this here’s just for you and my darlin’ Sweet.” He put her down and she continued on. Veda rushed through those corridors like a wave, discarding her wool coat nonchalantly along the way.

“Close your eyes,” Lou said grabbing Divine’s hands and leading her into what she assumed was the master bedroom. She obliged. There were two large doors, each with a gold filigree handle. As he opened them, Divine could feel the air flow against her skin, and she absorbed it, squeezed her eyes a little tighter and imagined standing at Harlem’s center, “Now open ‘em.”

Divine’s eyes did more than open. They made everything in that room a part of her. This can’t be real. She blinked. Same image. Blinked again, same thing. The room an exact replica of the one she and Lou shared in the brownstone on Sugar Hill. Sweet began to cry. She exited the room swiftly, unsuccessfully hiding her tears.

“I thought you’d be happy,” he said following his wife down the abundant stairwell.

“I am happy Lou,” she stopped at the landing, turned to look at him, the wetness streaking her cheeks.

“Well, why the tears then Sweet?”

“Because, I don’t deserve you,” and she buried her face in his shoulder.

“There ain’t enough I could do, baby. I’m the lucky one. Small time cat like me, come from nothin’… get the time of day from somebody like you?” He led Divine down to the foyer’s large mirror. “Look at’choo,” he said standing behind her, arms wrapped lazily around her waist. “You beautiful. Skin sweet as honey, eyes so bright.” He kissed her allowing his lips to linger for a while at her temple, she gushed a smile. “I’m happy just to be in the same room as you. You make me feel good. And you give me more in one glance than I could give you in a lifetime.”

Veda came bouncing down the staircase, jubilant and bubbly, “What’s wrong mommy?”

Lou bent down, looking at the little girl squarely, “You wanna know what’s wrong with her? Foolishness, that’s all, just plain ol’ foolishness.” And he let out a muted chuckle, while glancing back at Sweet. She smiled and playfully tapped Lou upside the head.

“So,” he said grabbing both of them by the hand, “what y’all wanna do now?”

Both Veda and Sweet stood there, bashfully reluctant to make a suggestion. The looks on their faces read, “I don’t know.”

“Y’all hungry? Tired? Sleepy? What?”

In unison and matter-of-factly, they both replied, “Hungry.”

“So it’s settled. Food it is.”

Louis Patterson had a way of making things alright. He could turn clouds into sunshine if he wanted to. He said and did all the right things, was charming and adventurous. This move to Detroit had not been sudden. It had taken nearly two years of careful planning, trips to and fro, meeting people and getting connected. Bo, a friend of theirs, or rather, a friend of Lou’s had been in the city for a while and spent the last few months introducing Lou to important people and escorting him through Black Bottom’s underbelly.

Bo and Lou grew up together; they were like brothers, except that Bo was one of those characters you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley, he was a real throat cutter. There was something about him you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His eyes were empty, vacant. Sweet would tell Lou to be careful around Bo, that he wasn’t seemly. And Lou would defend him reminding her that he had saved Lou’s life a time or two.

Bo had family in Detroit, so his arrival met with a smooth transition. In a little over a year, he had managed to run numbers successfully and loan money at pennies on the dollar which earned him the name Bo ‘Dollar’. The last time Lou came for a visit Bo took him every where, including Paradise. It was a type of warren where rested nightclubs, hotels, speakeasy’s and restaurants. It was just north of the Patterson’s new home and was where people like Papa Lou and Sweet Divine would become famous.

Black Bottom was different from Harlem. As it turned out, the people, black and white, were mildly paced, hospitable in most instances. They had southern drawls to go with the southern manners they carried with them from places like Alabama, Mississippi and the Carolina’s. Men tipped their hats at passersby, ladies in aprons would feed you if you were hungry. People looked out for one another, were close knit, familiar. And in spite of being oppressed and impoverished, people lived in Black Bottom, truly lived. Detroit’s up and downtown gave colored folk back doors and separate this or that while Black Bottom gave them something entirely different. It gave them a home, a place were ribs could smoke curbside and Billie Holiday could be seen for 50 cents in venues owned by, filled by people with black skin.

The following morning, Sweet woke to a brilliant Midwestern sun. There was a small amount of unpacking to do and neighbors to meet. Okay ‘Black Bottom’, I suppose I could give you a chance. Her new town looked a little less gray today; it looked almost livable, almost. She stood in front of the large picture window, the view was surreal. There it was, clearly, presently. The life that Lou had talked about all those months ago was right here, staring back at sweet Miss Divine—common folk leaving for work, husbands shaking off their good time and paperboys slinging dailies toward empty early morning porches. She headed for the kitchen deciding to begin her unpacking there, the two loves of her life would be up soon and they’d be hungry.

Meanwhile, Louis Patterson lay beneath fluffy white cotton as the room gave way to a single ray of sunshine and Veda who stood between the door and its jam. “Papa?” She entered the room, the sun hit her caramel complexion just so. “Papa,” she said leaning against the high mahogany bed, tapping her left foot sluggishly against the floors hard wood. Veda patted Louis’s cheek, he opened one eye.

“Hi.” She was so cute. Just a girl, but more than that really.

“G’morning baby girl. You sleep good?”

“Uh huh.”

“What’choo wanna do today?” he asked, as she climbed the footstool to a mass of fluff and feathers.

“I dunno,” she shrugged.

“Well, I gotta go see Bo and take care of a few things. You wanna tag along?”

Veda’s entire face lit up, “Ooh Papa can I?”

“I don’t see why not, but we better make sure it’s awright with Sweet first, huh?” Sweet was very domestic, she’d hoped that Veda would be too, but the child was more interested in what went on outside the house than in. Papa Lou knew that she’d want to show their little girl the ‘art’ of unpacking and moving into a new home. Getting Sweet to let Veda ride shotgun would be a task.

“Can I ask you somethin’ Papa?”

“Anything.”

“What’d you wanna be when you grew up?

“Just what I am right now Baby Girl.”

“And what’s that?”

“Father of the most precious thing alive,” he said with a smile.

“You know what I mean Papa. What is it that’choo do?

“Well Veda, mostly I’m a businessman and that’s what I do, busniess.”

“What kinda business?”

“Whew, lil’ girl you ask too many questions…”

And they both giggled, as he grabbed the child tickling under her arms and the bottoms of her bare feet. She managed to break free, leaping off the bed, making her way toward the door. Before leaving the room, she turned to Lou and asked, “Can you show me? Show me how to do business like you?” Sitting up now against large downy pillows he replied, “I do baby girl, everyday, every time you see me, I’m doin’ my business. But ya know who you ought to be payin’ attention to? Keep an eye on that Sweet, now she know how to do business.”

“Mommy?” she said in disbelief.

“Yes, Lord. Ya mama and me work by the same kinda rules, hell, sometimes I think she better at it than me.”

“Why you say that?”

“Cuz she look so good doin’ it,” he shook his head and closed his eyes, taking an imaginary glimpse at the woman he loved.

“Aw Daddy…,” she said waving her hand as if what he’d said was obscene, and she left, darting off to find Sweet.

Veda was a good child, a dream even. She never seemed her age though. She was grown from the time she was born. Papa Lou adored her. She was his private joy. He doted on Veda as much as he did Sweet. They were his girls, his entire world revolved around them. There were times when he’d watch the two of them. Watch them interact with each other, admired their closeness and thought, “I done good.” Louis’s baby girl was getting so big and needed explanations. She scared Lou. Scared him because she was wise beyond her years, he probably learned as much from her as she did from him.

The long, wide corridors of their new home seemed to cower in her presence; she flowed through them like pollen on a summer day. She was almost the spitting image of Sweet, but there was something else in her that let him know she belonged to him. She had this voice, this mature sound that came from the deepest of places. He watched her curiosity grow into something magical. She was special, a sponge who appreciated listening. She absorbed everything, listened to people even when they weren’t saying a word.

Veda skipped happily down the staircase allowing her fingers to glide across the wide spokes of the wooden banister. She heard the rattling of pots and dishes come from what she assumed was the kitchen and made her way in that direction. She saw her mother, beautiful sweet Divine digging in boxes, retrieving paper wrapped plates and glasses.

“Hey Sweet.”

“Well hello. And when did I become Sweet to you?”

“Everybody else calls you that, how come I cain’t”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, but there’s sumpin nice about hearin’ your favorite person call you sumpin’ special like ‘mommy’.”

“Hey mommy.”

“That’s better.”

“Mommy, how you learn how to do business?”

“Where’d that come from?”

“Papa told me to ask you.”

“He did?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well baby, I learned ‘cause I had to. My parents passed, God bless their souls, when I was very young and I had a little sister to look after. I had to learn how to depend on myself just so we could make it. I grew up fast knowin’ that ain’t nobody gon’ give you nothin, that if you want sumpin to happen, then you gotta make it happen your own self.”

“But how’d you learn though, somebody teach you?

“A whole bunch’a folks taught me, whether they knew it or not,” she said, still digging and unwrapping.

“I don’t get it.”

“I learned by payin’ attention baby, by watchin’ people who was good at sumpin do whatever it is they was good at.” And she paused for a moment from the task at hand, giving Veda her undivided attention, “Listen, everybody wants sumpin Veda, and if you got it, sellin’ it is far better than givin it away, you understand?”

“No.”

“You will.”

It took some convincing, but Sweet did let Veda tag along with Papa Lou. She feigned needing help with the unpacking and put up a brief protest, but she could never resist a pleading smile, Lou’s nor Veda’s.

“But y’all ain’t ate nothin’ yet,” she said as her husband planted puckered lips on her forehead.

“We meetin’ Bo at Mama’s.”

Sweet noticed the curtain of her neighbor’s side window pull back enough to get a peak at Elmwood Street’s new residents. Lou and Veda walked down the wide porch steps, little hand in big hand, looking more like children at play than anything. And play they would. Their times together were chock full of adventure and would forever be known as “Papa Lou days”.

Today was one of those days.

Veda loved being with Papa Lou. On her “Papa Lou days” she got to see more than her mind could imagine. She met every type of character, people from nearly every walk of life. They’d spend all day in Papa’s car, a large hunk of a thing whose burnished exterior he’d wipe when he wasn’t guiding the steering wheel with his knees and counting cash. He’d say, “Now watch that road Baby Girl.” And she, no taller than the dash would place her left hand on the wheel, raise up just so and guide, with the help of Papa’s knee’s of course.

This morning was cool, almost cold. The season was changing from winter to spring and was taking its own sweet time. Veda was dressed warmly in her favorite wool coat—she loved that coat. They began the day with breakfast at Mama Estelle’s, a quaint little greasy spoon attached to a barber shop on the left and a billiard parlor on the right.

“Well Baby Girl, you are officially in Paradise.”

“How come the streets ain’t gold?”

Lou looked over at Veda, amazed at how her mind works. He was dumbfounded, she was bewildered. Veda looked around, there were people everywhere. They were moving about, in and out of places. There were women in thick rouge being helped from cars, men in topcoats and shiny shoes conversing, delivery boys carrying laundry with messages hidden between creases and folds.

Veda spotted a familiar face. It was Bo leaning against the entranceway of the Sunrise Kitchen. “Look Papa, there’s Uncle Bo,” she said pointing. The way he stood against the stained masonry looked like a photograph. His right shoulder relaxed against the building’s hard brick, a leg crossed casually behind the other. One hand plunged idly into a deep pocket while the other drew a cigarette to dark lips. He took an exaggerated drag.

Lou made a u-turn, parking his car almost directly in front of Estella Rowe’s door. Everybody called her Mama or Mama Estelle. She was a stout little lady who could cook like nobody’s business.

Bo took a final puff from his cigarette and flicked the still smoldering butt into the street as Veda made quick steps toward him. “Hey Baby Girl,” and he exposed his palm, Veda struck it with hers. He flipped their hands so that his ended up on top.

“Hey Uncle,” she said drawing back a palm now occupied by a silver dollar. “How’d you do that?”

“Magic.” Bo held the door allowing Papa Lou and Veda to walk through first. There was a long Formica counter where the hind parts of breakfast-goers spilled over round, vinyl topped stools. Four large rectangular tables sat directly in the restaurant’s middle while six booths graced the walls in a deliberate ‘L’. Before Lou and Veda could stop at the sign that read, ‘Please wait to be seated’, Bo ushered them past two waitresses in hair nets and thick soled shoes into a steamy kitchen where Mama slung overflowing plates beneath a heated lamp.

“Order up,” she said.

Mama used to be a St. Louis ‘fix it’ doctor, used to help young girls out of the kind of trouble bright young things weren’t supposed to get into. Then, something in a dream told her to stop. So she moved here, to Black Bottom and went from fixing uteri to fixing flapjacks & homemade sausage.

Mama Estelle’s Sunrise Kitchen was part of a rowed cluster of businesses that stretched along St.Antoine Street and was only open for breakfast. It was so popular that most mornings there’d be a line building up out front. Since the house was full today Bo, Papa Lou and Veda got to eat right in the kitchen, not too far from the heavy stove where smothered potatoes, eggs and hominy formed a decadent family. Mama’s was legendary; people came from all over town for one of her short stacks smothered in Alaga syrup.

“Ooh wee! My, my my, look at’chall, just as handsome,” she grabbed Bo’s face in her hands and planted on him a wet, sloppy kiss. “It’s been too long, too long indeed,” she said squeezing Lou tightly.

“Yes it has Mama,” Lou replied.

Veda stood behind her father, trying to hide from the old woman standing there with hands on her hips. “Is this lil’ Veda? Come on, gimme some sugah,” and Mama Estelle bent down just low enough for the little girl to peck her cheek, “How you doin’ baby?”

“I’m fine. Papa let me drive,” the little girl exploded. Mama cut Papa Lou a harsh look as if to say, “You bet’not.” Lou’s eyes shifted toward the floor.

“You ain’t hit nothin’ did ya?”

“No ma’am.” Veda smiled and glanced over at her Papa Lou.

“Y’all sit on down here while I get’cha sumpin,” and Mama moved about in her kitchen, stirring and tasting. “Veda, you want hot cereal?”

“I’d like pancakes please,” she said, watching as Mama turned a short stack.

“Sure thing baby. Louis, I got some fresh chicken sausage over here, you want eggs, rice or grits wit’ it?” Mama was the only person in the world who called Papa Lou Louis.

“Eggs and rice’ll be fine.”

“A shame, a man cain’t even get breakfast from ‘is own mama,” Bo interjected, sucking his teeth.

“Hush up now, boy. Long as I known ya, fish cakes and grits been enough ta butter your belly, it’s comin’, just you hold on,” she placed a bold cup of steaming coffee in front of Papa Lou, while Veda made a mustache with the milk she sat in front of her just moments before.

“How’s that pretty wife of yours Louis.”

“Sweet is just fine Mama,” Lou beamed a proud smile.

A waitress came in, spouting off orders of fried fish, biscuits, eggs, sausage, hotcakes, potatoes and toast. She was gone as quickly as she had come. Mama had running that kitchen down to a science. She made it all look so easy. She sliced sausage and let it sizzle against a hot iron griddle, then dusted White Fish with flour and cornmeal, before dipping it in a deep vat of bubbling oil, “Bo tells me you done bought a storefront.”

“Yes’m, right over there on uh, Adams street?” he said looking over at Bo for confirmation.

“Oh yeah? Where ‘bout?”

Bo cut in, “down there not too far from the Six-O-Six.”

“Oh that’s nice. What’choo sellin?”

Lou paused, “Tea.”

Mama wiped cornmeal and flour from her hands with the skirt of her apron. She turned to face the two men, her eyes darting from Lou to Bo, Bo to Lou. “Tea?”

“No joke Mama, Mr. Louis Patterson here is gon’ take over Black Bottom and Paradise Valley one tea bag at a time,” and he let out a hearty laugh.

“And what’s wrong with that?” she asked, her tone turning semi serious.

“What’s wrong wit it is ain’t no money in tea,” Bo replied with a hint of sarcasm.

“Well it must be sumpin’ that you don’t know about tea then,” Mama reassured Papa Lou with a wink.

“They’ raisin’ the sign this afternoon.”

“Can I see it too?” Veda asked wiping a thin coat of milk from her upper lip.

“You sure can Baby Girl,” he said as Mama placed a piping plate in front of him. He dug into a heap of rice and lightly scrambled eggs, then bit into the sausage saying, “Mama you out did yourself.”

Mama prepared for Veda a half-dozen silver dollars, topped with smothered apples in a succulent cinnamon and brown sugar glaze. The little girls eyes widened at the sight, “Thank you.”

“You’ welcome baby.”

Bo, Mama Estelle, Veda and Papa Lou spent the next few moments having a good time catching up and reacquainting. Mama told Veda about a little girl that lived in her building who she’d introduce her to, she thought they’d get along just fine. When their breakfast was finished they exchanged hugs but not before Bo and Lou both slid Mama crisp bills for her to hide in her bosom. Mama Estelle sent them on their way with a colossal hunk of butter cake wrapped in wax paper, a treat for Sweet. “You make sure your daddy don’t eat this, ya hear?” she said thrusting the delicacy into Veda’s hands.

“Yes ma’am.” And they were off. Bo ‘Dollar’ went on his way while the two Patterson’s drove toward Adams Street to check out Sweet’s new sign.