Easier Said Than Done (23 page)

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Authors: Nikki Woods

BOOK: Easier Said Than Done
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"I have also learned that nobody is sent more crosses than he or she can bear and there is always enough grace sent to bear them if you ask. If you bear all your crosses willingly and even ask our Lord for more to bear, you have then derived a sense of happiness to which the best pleasures of this world cannot compare. Always bear your troubles willingly.

"My darlings, be good, do good, and you will always have peace and be on the right road to heaven. I have found that much unhappiness is caused by family disputes. Stubbornness runs in our family so you got it honestly, from both sides of the family. As soon as you notice you are not getting anywhere, you need not give up your point of view, providing you are sure you are right; but you must stop arguing, shut up, and listen. You will be surprised how much quicker your argument is settled.

"Love the Lord thy God with all your heart, mind, and soul. Also love your neighbor as yourself. But to truly be at peace, you must love God above all things. It is always better to give than to receive. Charity should begin at home. And charity does not necessarily mean financial assistance. A pleasant smile and a good disposition at all times, also a desire to do a good deed whenever you get the opportunity, is good charity. Try and do at least one good deed each day.

"If I could live my life over again, there is a lot that I would do differently. But all of that fades away when you are on your deathbed, when the only reason you would live life over again would be to advance your salvation. So why gamble the first time, when there is no second time. Try and live your life as you would live it a second time, and you will derive a sense of happiness, which cannot be compared to the earthly pleasures you now get out of life. Everybody should be glad to be on this earth and have a chance to attain the great happiness in Heaven. This life is only a preparation for the next. See that you make it the best it can be. I have lived a
long, good life and I have learned many things. I can only pray that you listen and apply them to your own lives.

Mr. Bartlett pressed the pause button on the recorder to stop the tape. He looked out at his captive audience over his horn-rimmed glasses. “Any questions before we continue?” No one spoke, so once again the tape rolled and Mama Grace's voice filled the room.


To my granddaughter, Kingston, who I have named Executor and Trustee of my estate, I leave the house located at 2 1/4 Blossom Street and all of its possessions therein with the exception of those that will be detailed later. If Kingston chooses not to live in or maintain said residence, the proceeds from the sale of the house and its contents will revert back to the estate trust fund that has already been established and will be explained later by my attorney. It is my sincere hope, Kingston, that you will not sell the house, but would choose at my urging to reside here at least part of the year in order to oversee the estate fund. I know it will be a sacrifice, but I hope you will discover it to be a worthy endeavor.


To my remaining sister, my children, and my grandchildren, I leave twenty-one thousand dollars each with the stipulation that those not living in Jamaica must return to the island to receive it. It is further stipulated that one-third of the above-mentioned twenty-one thousand dollars must be donated to a charity of your choice. Any funds unclaimed after ninety days will revert back to the estate trust fund.

"All of my remaining possessions, bank accounts, stocks, and bonds will be liquidated or sold and the proceeds will revert to the estate trust fund. My attorney, Mr. Bartlett, has in his custody all of the papers needed to make this happen.

"From the estate trust fund, Kingston as overseer will be paid a yearly stipend to be disclosed at a later time by my attorney for the remainder of her life or until such time as she is unable or unwilling to complete her duties. Also from the estate trust fund, Queenie McDowell will be rewarded for her loyalty with a yearly stipend of twenty thousand dollars to be paid biweekly, for the remainder of her life. If the house is not sold, she will be allowed to continue in her duties if she so desires.

"Furthermore, from the estate fund, a charitable foundation will be established in order to help underprivileged girls further their education here and abroad.

"From the estate fund, a yearly stipend of thirty thousand dollars will be paid to Damon Whitfield for the sole purpose of maintaining the community health center and its charitable works.

"In closing, other than the funds and possessions stipulated in this Last Will and Testament, no further moneys or possessions will be dispensed to family members. I feel I
'
ve given each of you a sufficient amount of money in order to help you accomplish some things in life, whether it be going back to school, starting a business, or paying off some bills. But I will not support in any way your viewing my death as an occasion for you to profit. I love each and every one of you and wish you all the happiness in the world. I
'
ll be watching."

Mr. Bartlett reached over once more and with a click stopped the tape. The silence was deafening. Aunt Bea's mouth hung open in shock while she dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the already damp tissue. I looked at Damon, but he was staring at an invisible spot on the table, and I realized he had no idea that Mama Grace was planning to leave him anything in her will, and certainly not something so substantial. I was happy that she did, but from the scattered whispers around me, not all shared the sentiment.

Bianca nudged me. “I had no idea Mama Grace was so loaded.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted, still recovering from shock.

“Does anyone have any questions before I depart?” We had forgotten that Mr. Bartlett was still here.

Uncle Winston raised his hand and waited until he was acknowledged with a curt nod. “ So, if I'm to understand things correctly, the majority of Mama Grace's fortune is to go into some estate trust fund?”

“That's correct, Mr. Montague. The fund was established at the time your stepmother drafted her will.”

“Exactly how much is in this fund?”

“Let's just say that there's more than enough money to support its designated endeavors on the interest alone. Kingston will have the authority to establish charitable projects as long as they fit within the guidelines set by Mrs. Montague.”

“So basically,” Uncle Winston said as he rose from his chair, “Kingston has sole control over all that money.”

“No, Mr. Montague,” Mr. Bartlett started, as if he were about to explain physics to a two-year-old. “Kingston is in charge of administering the funds as instructed by Mrs. Montague. Kingston does not have access to the fund for personal use.”

“Exactly how much is in this fund? I think we have the right to know,” Aunt Lonnie muttered.

“According to the terms of the will, that cannot be disclosed. Besides myself, only Kingston and the accountant will have access to that information.”

“It must be well over a million dollars,” breathed Auntie Dawn while Aunt Bea moaned into her tissue.

“My, my, my,” Aunt Bea said, “Bless Grace's heart, giving all that money to charity.”

“What about her family?” Uncle Winston fired at Aunt Bea, causing her to shrink in her chair.

“And who will be in charge of making sure Kingston does what she's supposed to do with all that money?” Auntie Dawn asked.

“It's my job to make sure that Mrs. Montague's will is executed legally,” Mr. Bartlett replied, his chest puffed out. It was one thing for everyone to question my credibility. It was another thing entirely for them to question Mr. Bartlett's. “And as I said earlier, Kingston will not be able to use that money for anything other than what has been approved by Mama Grace.” He paused, then scanned the room again. “If there is nothing further, I will take my leave. I have other clients to see today. My office number is printed on each copy of the will. Feel free to call me with any questions.”

After placing the tape recorder and the remainder of his papers in his briefcase, he turned to me. “Kingston, I will need to speak with you in the next couple of days; so please forward your contact information to my office as soon as possible.” He snapped shut his briefcase and tucked it under his arm. I wanted to tell him that I was already unwilling or unable—depending on how you looked at it—to complete my duties because I was catching a flight in less than three hours. But by the time I opened my mouth, Mr. Bartlett's stiff back was disappearing through the front door.

Bianca waited until she heard the front gate slam and a car motor start before she whirled to face her mother. “Mommy, how could you?” she wailed. “I would have expected that he would act a fool,” she said, tossing her head in Uncle Winston's direction. “But not you. None of this is Kingston's fault.”

“Not now, Bianca.” Aunt Lonnie looked pointedly at Damon.

Bianca crossed her arms in front of her. “I don't care if we have company. Besides, it's too late for ‘not now,' Mommy,” she returned in a high-pitched voice designed to mock her mother. “You should have thought ‘not now' while you were trying to make Kingston seem like a criminal, like she's stealing something from you. Kingston's your niece.”

Deciding that it might be better if I step in before the situation escalated into an all-out catfight, I placed my hand on Bianca's arm to stop her from continuing her tirade. “Bianca, it's okay. I understand that everyone is still grieving and sometimes when you're grieving, you say things you don't really mean.” Bianca's head snapped back and her eyes widened in surprise. Then suddenly her face softened. She realized I didn't mean a word of what I just said and backed off. I wanted to laugh at her sheepish look. We'd grown closer in the last two days than in all the years growing up.

Uncle Lee took Aunt Lonnie by the arm and steered her in the direction of the door, her gold bangles jingling. “It's time to go,” he said. “What's done, is done.”

“That's a poor choice of words considering the circumstances we find ourselves in,” I commented. I waited for Uncle Winston to follow suit, gather his brood and just leave, but Uncle Lee wasn't finished.

“After all, we really don't need the money like some others,” he snorted and they stomped out, car doors slamming within seconds.

Damon took that as his cue. “I have patients that need to be seen today, and I don't want to intrude any further.” Damon scooted his chair back. “It was nice seeing all of you.” He smiled, then turned to me. “Kingston, could you walk me to the door.”

I hesitated, taken aback by his nerve, then followed him out to the porch.

“You look beautiful,” he said before we were even out of earshot.

I smoothed a hand over the front of my linen pants and frowned. “Damon, don't do this.”

“Don't do what?” he asked. “Compliment an absolutely delicious woman?”

“Don't act like we're going to pick up right where we left off last night.”

“Giving you a compliment isn't doing that. This,” he whispered “is acting like we're picking up right where we left off,” then swept me into his arms and kissed me. And not one of
those regular old kisses, either. This was a Scarlett O'Hara,
Gone with the Wind
, kind of kiss—long, passionate, and delicious.

So delicious, I almost forgot that we were standing on the porch with all to see. Almost.

Sure that Aunt Bea, Uncle Winston, Auntie Dawn, and the two brats were getting more than an eyeful, I pushed at Damon's chest until he let me go, then grabbed his arm, yanking him down the steps until we were as far away from the house as possible.

“I really didn't want you to do that,” I spat out, still feeling the imprint of his mouth branded on mine and knowing that my body had definitely betrayed me.

“Yeah, I could tell.” Damon laughed. “You weren't enjoying that at all, were you Kingston? Do I have lipstick on me? That shade of red looks good on you, but I'm not sure it's my color.” He wiped his mouth.

I sighed. He was hopeless. “This isn't funny.”

“I don't mean to make fun.” He planted a kiss on the corners of my pouting lips. “I miss you, that's all and I want to see you. Tonight. I'm figuring I'll be done about seven. Maybe a little dinner and even some dancing. They have this new night club for the over-thirty crowd that I hear is very nice.”

“I'm leaving, Damon,” I said, not beating around the bush. I looked from the pained expression on his face to the slim Movado watch on my wrist. It was easier. “My flight leaves in
less than three hours, so I need to get ready to go.” I started to rattle off the list of things that I still had to do.

“I thought you were staying until at least tomorrow. And maybe even longer after hearing what your grandmother wanted.”

“My life is in Chicago. I need and want to get back to it. I just can't forget about all of my responsibilities and stay here.”

“What about the Will?”

“I haven't figured that out. Don't worry though, I'll make sure you get your check on time. ”

The smile vanished from Damon's face. “That's a low blow, Kingston. You know that I'm not concerned about the damn money. Obviously, it'll help me do more in the community, but I can survive without it.” He paused, then ran a finger down the side of my face and tilted my chin until my eyes met his. “I'm concerned about you. You've gone through a lot and I want to help you deal with it. Plus, I was getting used to the idea of you being around. I have quite a bit to make up for. Besides, if I didn't know any better, I would say that your grandmother was playing the matchmaker, giving you the house so you could stay here and be with me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Let's just say your grandmother and I had a lot of conversations before she died and most centered around you.”

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