Easier Said Than Done

by Nikki Woods

  “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. Th
is,” 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.”

  I turned and leaned on the front gate. I wasn’t happy to know that Damon and my grandmother had been discussing me behind my back, but I didn’t want to make the situation worse by getting mad. I forced my lips into a smile. “Well, whatever the case may be, I’m glad that we talked. And I am glad that we got some things cleared up. But that other thing that happened last night was a mistake.”

  Damon laughed and shook his head. “You can’t even say it? We made love, Kingston. That’s what happened last night and it was incredible.”

  His words brought back the steamy images with the force of a mack truck, and a fiery warmth started in my stomach before exploding through my entire body.

  “Okay, I admit it.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “We’re definitely compatible in a sexual sense. But that’s not enough for me. I won’t compromise what I believe.”

  Damon placed his hands on my shoulder, his brown eyes smoldered. “What compromise? I still love you, Kingston, as much, if not more than, I used to. I know this sounds cliché, but that kind of love just doesn’t die.”

  “It may not have died, but something happened to it. I don’t owe you an explanation, Damon, I just need more.”

  “You’re not giving it a chance to be more.”

  I poked my finger in his chest and replied through clenched teeth, “No, you didn’t give it a chance to be more. Goodbye, Damon.” I turned and walked back into the house, managing to pass the open mouths and prying stares with my head held high. But when I reached my bedroom, I threw myself on the bed and dissolved into tears. My head was telling me that leaving Damon was the right thing based on what had happened in the past; but my heart was screaming, “not again.” Because like it or not, I had fallen back into Damon’s trap.

  The pain, loneliness, and despair came rushing back the same as it did ten years ago. I knew that the heartache would go away. I’d learned that lesson well. No matter what, there was always an end to the pain; always an end to the heartache.

  When the stream of tears dried up five minutes later, I packed my bags, and let Bianca drive me to the airport.

  Chapter 19

  “All right, girl, give me the news. You’ve made me wait long enough.” I snapped my seatbelt in place, then flipped the visor down and checked the mirror. My hair and makeup were still in place—even after the long flight; but out of habit, I brushed a coat of raspberry lip-gloss across my lips.

  “No small talk?” Keela joked as she looked in her rearview mirror before switching on her left turn signal. She was doing her best to navigate through the congested airport traffic.

  “Keela,” I growled in warning.

  “My goodness, aren’t we tense?” she joked as I rummaged through my purse for a piece of gum. She was stalling, trying to deflect the attention back to me. I stared at her until she took a deep, fortifying breath. “Well, here goes . . . I’m pregnant. You’re going to be an auntie.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

  I nearly choked on my Doublemint. “What! Get outta here,” I exploded, socking her in the arm.

  “Ouch,” she said, massaging the bruised spot.

  “Why did you wait so long to tell me? When? How?” I paused. “Forget that. I know how.”

  “Take a deep breath, girl." Keela giggled. “I know it’s a shock. But this is a good thing. I’m ready to be a mommy.”

  “How far along are you?”

  Keela wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “About eighteen weeks now, halfway through my second trimester. I was trying to wait before I told everyone. My doctor says that first babies are tricky, that they don’t always stay, so I wanted the risk of miscarriage to go down before I started spreading the good news.”

  “I’m not everyone,” I protested.

  “I know, sweetie, but you had so much going on. I wanted you to get through that first, then tell you face to face.” Keela merged onto the highway, traffic flowing well for this time of day. “I’m gonna be a mama,” she said, gently patting her tummy.

  “You’re going to be a mommy!” I inhaled the wonder of it, let the enormity of the situation settle in and happiness flooded my heart. If anyone deserved to be a mother, it was Keela. She was a nurturer, a caretaker.

  Keela continued to take side-peeks, gauging my reaction, waiting for me to explain the frown that now furrowed my brow.

  “Go on and ask me,” she said quietly. "You’re dying to know, so go on and ask me who my baby daddy is.”

  “I didn’t know there was a baby daddy. I thought you went to a sperm bank and was going to list ‘test tube’ as the father on the birth certificate,” I suggested with a half smile, though secretly wishing that really were the case.

  “Oh, you got jokes?” Keela blustered as if she were upset, but couldn’t quite pull it off. Soon her whole body was jiggling and covering her mouth couldn’t even contain the giggles.

  “So?” I prodded.

  “So, what?”

  “Who’s the baby’s daddy?”

  “Brandon.”

  “Brandon who?”

  “What do you mean, Brandon who?” Keela’s face screwed up and suddenly the thought of Brandon being the baby’s father pissed me off
.

  “Like I said, Brandon who? You must have met somebody new, because I know you are not talking about Brandon Charles: Brandon, ‘I can’t keep my hands off other women,’ Charles; or Brandon, ‘I need more, so I dumped you after you slaved over Christmas dinner for two days,’ Charles; certainly not Brandon, ‘I’m thirty-eight, but still don’t have anything to call my own,’ Charles; not the same Brandon Charles who had two of his other women three-waying you just to call you all kinds of sluts and hos non-stop for a week? Stop me when I’ve got the wrong Brandon Charles.”

  Keela didn’t respond, but one look at her told the story. Her eyes shone with unshed tears and my heart sank. I saw the sadness in her eyes and knew I needed to find the sweetness in the situation. I didn’t want to see this as just another mess that Brandon Charles had created.

  “Oh, honey.” I covered her hand with mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “I can’t help that I love him, Kingston.” She gave me a watery smile, the tears splashing on her cheeks.

  “I know, Keela. And I’m sorry. I just worry about you, and this relationship has not been the most solid. I wonder how healthy this is going to be for the baby.”

  “Just be happy for me.”

  “I am, but . . .”

  “No buts, Kingston, be happy for me. We didn’t plan to have a baby, but Brandon says he wants us to be a family, and for my child, I’m willing to try. If it doesn’t work, I’ll handle it. Regardless of the outcome, I need you and Essence more than ever.”

  “And you know we’ve got your back, no matter what. And I am happy for you, Keela. No more lectures, promise.” I held up my hands in a gesture of peace.

  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” Keela said, exiting from the Dan Ryan and turning onto 47th street. “Now tell me about the trip. I’m dying to hear about Damon. And don’t leave out anything, Kingston. Not a damn thing—I want to know everything!”

  I sank down in my seat and looked out the window as we passed the Java Hut coffee shop on the left, Lee’s Nails on the right and two bums standing on the corner ahead. The snow had melted to a grayish slush that had dulled the normally brilliant glow of the city; but it was good to be home.