He ignored her and paid the cashier. The Negro woman and boy were gone, and he didn’t see them out on South Orange Avenue, where gas lamps shone in the snow-flecked light. Julian considered walking up a block to his broker’s office and saying hello to his money, but that bored him. Better to go home and read the Newark Evening News and watch a little TV.
“ ’Scuse me, suh,” a woman said, and Julian looked down and saw the Negro woman shivering next to him in her raincoat. The hair visible under her kerchief was white and her face was as furrowed as a walnut shell. “You Mr. Julian Rose?”
Julian nodded, and the woman said, “I’m Lucinda Watkins. Friend of Kenni-Ann Wakefield. Y’all know Kenni-Ann?”
It was a shock hearing her name. “Kendall, yes. How is she?”
“Sorry to say, suh. She dead.”
The wind was blowing the snow against his face, but Julian couldn’t feel the cold. He heard himself say, “Dead?”
“Yes, suh. And she make me promise to come find you if somethin’ happen. I get change to call yoah house and the cleanin’ girl say y’all most likely be heah. A waitress tell me you jist left.”
“Where’s the boy?”
“He gettin’ a ice-cream cone.”
“Is he Kendall’s son?”
“Yes, suh. Bobby be Kenni-Ann’s son and . . .”
“And?” Julian asked.
“And he be yoah son too.” (end excerpt)
I normally don't pick books like this one, but I think I may have to start. I usually look for something with some sort of fantasy element.