Excerpt from The Seven Daughters of Dupree by Nikesha Elise Williams, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Prologue

They cut off her head because she ran. But who could know? Certainly not Tati. She was looking for her daddy. Her mama, Nadia, wouldn't tell her. Gladys, her mimi, wouldn't tell her either. So she searched for him. She didn't know to search for anyone else. It wasn't like there was a burial or body; no coffin, no cemetery. But in a way she found her. In fact, she found them all, including her daddy. In the kitchen table whisperings and the basement murmurings where her mother used a hot comb to press out her hair every Saturday night.

1.
March 1995

The noxious scent of burnt hair and relaxer coldcocked Tati with

a closed fist, singeing her nose hairs, as she made her way into the basement. A yellow neon sign that read nadia's nubian salon hung on the wall of the landing, led the way for customers who entered through the back door. Not that Mimi ever came that way. She insisted on coming through the front. As soon as she crossed the threshold, her eyes roamed as her gloved hands swiped across furniture that was neither dusted nor polished, and her feet traversed the floor that wasn't mopped. For the unwashed dishes in the sink, she shook her head and kissed her teeth.

Behind the heavy basement door, Mary J. Blige's My Life album provided the soundtrack for the Sunday morning appointment. Nadia sang along in her own version of praise and worship. She didn't abide no gospel, and since all the R&B stations got holy from seven to noon, Nadia was her own DJ, despite Mimi's misgivings. The elder woman never said anything. The only indication of her displeasure was the turned corners of her lips, which made her face look as if she were sucking on something sour. She knew that if she wanted to get her hair done, music was Nadia's nonnegotiable, especially Mary. It was Nadia's third copy of the CD. She had played the other two out so much they skipped. At least that's what she said, but Tati knew dropping hair grease, spritz, and holding spray on the discs didn't help the scratches none either.

Tati retrieved the broom hidden behind the sliding gray door that separated the laundry room from the rest of the salon and swept the perimeter. She moved between the two washbowls along the right wall and the three dryers on the left before she treaded through the middle, where Mimi was enthroned in the client chair. The curling iron hissed in Nadia's hand. All of her Soft Sheen and Dudley's products along with rollers, curlers, and irons of different widths were in arm's reach on shelves that butted up against the basement wall below a second flickering, yellow nadia's nubian salon sign. "Tati, stop standing there like a dazed deer and help me," Nadia snapped.

"Whatchu want me to do?"

"Damnit, Tati, help. Finish sweeping. Clean out the washbowl. Pick up Mimi's towel that fell to the ground and put it in the basket. I know your eyes good 'cause we just got 'em checked. You need to put 'em to use and earn your keep after all the money I'm spending on you for your lil' birthday."

"Nadia, that's not right," Mimi said.

"Whatchu mean that's not right?" Nadia asked exasperated. "Yesterday we did the movies and dinner at the Cheesecake Factory with Toya and Desirée on top of shopping at the Water Tower Place. And she sprung her class trip on me at the last minute. Shit, I had to give her a postdated check. She lucky I don't make her lil' ass go get a work permit to bag groceries at Jewel's. Earning her keep is the least she could do. Ain't that what you told me when I was little?"

"I told you a lot of thangs when you was little. It don't mean I was right."

"It worked for me. I turned out all right."

"And we want Tati to be better than all right!"

Mimi turned in her seat and glared at Nadia, who only rolled her eyes and clicked the curlers. A direction and a threat. Turn around before you get burned. Mimi huffed then faced forward.

Excerpted from The Seven Daughters of Dupree by Nikesha Elise Williams. Copyright © 2026 by Nikesha Elise Williams. Excerpted by permission of Gallery/Scout Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.