“Mommy, any man who can make a reservation at New Haven is definitely a big fish, and I’m going there to see for myself.”
“You think so?” Aunt Beatrice asked, intrigued.
“I know so, Mommy. To make a reservation there is not less than one hundred thousand naira.”
A few minutes later, Mirabel walked into the living room in a short red gown. As she turned slowly, her mother smiled at her proudly.
“Mommy, what do you think?” Mirabel asked.
Aunt Beatrice smiled.
“Makeup check. Tummy flat as pancakes. Buttocks on point.”
They both laughed, and Mirabel bent down and whispered to her mother,
“I need his number.”
Aunt Beatrice smiled knowingly.
“Don’t you trust your mother again?”
She stood up and went to Amanda’s room.
“Give me that phone,” she demanded.
“Why, Auntie?” Amanda asked.
“Because I know that ritualist will be trying to contact you. Or are you questioning me?”
“No, Auntie, I was—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Aunt Beatrice snatched the phone from her hand, hissed, and walked out.
Once she and Mirabel were in their room, they burst into laughter. They took Obina’s number, blocked his line on Amanda’s phone, and deleted her call history. Then Mirabel set off for New Haven.
When she arrived at New Haven, Mirabel called Obina, and he directed her to his table. He was stunned. She looked more polished than he had imagined.
A few minutes later, they were seated.
“Amanda, how are you?” Obina asked.
Mirabel smiled.
