Easier Said Than Done (29 page)

Chapter 23

The house was quiet and the evening sun bathed the small office I had fashioned out of a corner in the guest bedroom in a golden glow. I'd spent the past two hours whipping up dinner. A mixture of finely chopped onions, green peppers and scallions simmered with diced tomatoes, ground beef and Italian sausage, now sat, just begging to be tossed with rotini pasta. Add a salad, and dinner was done.

That was for later, now it was time to get down to business. I was not going to allow tragedy, cheating boyfriends, or triflin' best friends to throw me off schedule. I was not going to block my blessings.

Sorting through the mail was at the top of the agenda, picking out the Christmas cards, setting them to the side, tossing the junk flyers, and organizing bills. E-mail was next. Jonetta had sent a list of things that needed to be done, all of which could be taken care of tomorrow. My reply included instructions to set up a phone conference with Mr. Mansini for ten o'clock in the morning and to start formatting the outline for Scooby's proposal so I could input information as I got it. I ran my naked toes back and forth over the fuzzy, round rug and winced when I snagged a rough piece of skin; definitely time for a pedicure.

The phone rang. Swiveling the chair, I stretched across the desk and looked at the display. The area code was 876. Jamaica. Mama Grace's attorney, Mr. Bartlett, wasted no time with formalities.

“I hate to disturb you on a Sunday, but you left the island without us talking about the plan of action for your grandmother's estate. I can't proceed without instruction from you.” He cleared his throat.

I leaned back in my chair. “Something urgent came up at work. Sorry, I wasn't able to contact you before I left.”

“Returning to Jamaica anytime soon?”

“To be quite honest with you, Mr. Bartlett, Mama Grace's decision to put me in charge of her estate was totally unexpected.”

Again, he cleared his throat. “I asked Grace to relay her wishes to you beforehand so that you would be better prepared. She was categorically against it. I know it's a difficult position to be in, but a decision needs to be made so we can move forward. If no one contests the will, I'd like things to be in place by the end of January.”

I sat forward, my heart quickening. “You think somebody's planning on contesting the will?”

“Even if they do, they won't win.” Pages flipped. “How about we touch base tomorrow evening, around six? You can give me your decision then.”

A day to make a major life decision?
I made a notation on my desk calendar. “Do you think it would be possible to oversee the estate from here?”

He hesitated; I could see his eyes squinting behind those wire-rimmed spectacles. “I think it would be possible, but I think it would undermine the spirit of what your grandmother had envisioned. And I think it would be stressful for you. Overseeing an estate this size brings a lot of responsibility and social commitment. It will be important for the people to feel that you're part of the community.” Once again, he cleared his throat. “But of course, that's your decision.”

“Of course,” I echoed, then clicked off. I stared out the window. Everything was so upside down, confusing. I had a blossoming career here, but a golden opportunity there. Neither one outweighed the other. I just wanted to do the right thing.

Opening my address book, I searched with an index finger for a number. Punching the ten digits, the phone rang once, twice, three times before Bianca answered.

“Well, it's about damn time you called,” she said.

I smiled. “Are you busy?”

“I'm trying to finish up my Christmas shopping, but I end up buying more stuff for me.

I'm on my way home from the store now.” Horns honked and Bianca swore under her breath. “ Sorry.”

“I just got off the phone with Mama Grace's attorney. He wanted to know when I was going to come back to Jamaica?”

“What'd you tell him?”

“Same thing I've told everyone else. I think my biggest problem is I don't know how to let go of everything that I've established here to move to Jamaica and start all over.”

“But you wouldn't really be starting over. You'd have a job, a house, your family's here, and it sounds like running the estate will be flexible enough for you to travel to Chicago whenever you want. Is whatever you have there worth letting go of what Mama Grace had been planning for many years, something she could only trust to you?” Bianca inhaled. “Plus there's Damon to consider.”

I clenched my teeth. “He has nothing to do with this.”

Bianca laughed. “I saw your eyes light up whenever he walked into the room. I saw the way he held your hand at Mama Grace's funeral. You can't fool me. You guys have the kind of love that only comes once in a lifetime.”

“Not anymore,” I said. “If I do come back to Jamaica, it will be for Mama Grace, not for Damon.”

“Tell yourself whatever you like. I, for one, am hoping that you decide Jamaica is where you want to be.”

“For purely selfish reasons, huh?”

“Yep,” she replied. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” I hung up and leaned back in the chair, lacing my fingers behind my head. I felt the tug of a migraine and moved my fingers to my temples, massaging gently. It eased the tension a bit, but not enough. Cocoa trotted into the room and nudged me with her nose. When that didn't move me, a more vigorous scratch with her paw followed.

“All right, let's go out for a bit.” I grabbed the leash, my down-hooded coat and Timberland boots. We made a trek around the courtyard, long enough for Cocoa to work out some friskiness and to start my nose running. My immediate neighbor struggled to haul a suitcase through the front door while balancing her daughter on one hip.

“Hi, Kingston,” she called when she saw me, setting her daughter down, then poking her head back outside. “I was sorry to hear about your grandmother. The Townhouse Association sent out a notice.”

I unleashed Cocoa so she could prance freely in the small, gated yard. “I just got back yesterday so I'm still trying to settle in.”

“Teeka was at her daddy's house all weekend so I'm pretty much doing the same thing—he don't do a damn thing when he's got her. She hasn't had a bath all weekend and he didn't feed my baby dinner,” she looked at her watch, “and it's almost seven o'clock. Damn. So now I gotta try to throw something together.” Teeka wrapped her chubby arms around Sharneesha's legs and began whimpering.

“Mama's coming. I know you're hungry,” she said, smoothing the little girl's unkempt hair, then looked up at me. “I need to go find her something to eat.”

“Does Teeka like spaghetti?” I asked. “I just made a big pot and I can't eat it all.” I leaned over the fence, speaking directly to Teeka. “Would you like to come over and eat spaghetti with me and Cocoa?”

Teeka looked up at her mother before nodding. “Can I feed Cocoa?” she asked before ducking her head behind her mother.

“You most certainly can, sweetheart.” I turned to Sharneesha. “Is it okay?”

She nodded gratefully. “We'd love to join you for dinner.”

“Great. Put your stuff down and come on over when you're ready. All I have to do is warm up the spaghetti and toss the salad. I'll leave the door open.”

“I'll be just a sec,” she said before picking up Teeka and disappearing into her house.

I had just finished setting the table when Teeka's head popped up around the corner.

Sharneesha was right behind her, panting from the climb up the stairs. “You don't know how much I appreciate this.” Sharneesha could stand to lose about fifty pounds, but still had a pretty face, all the extra weight packaged well. Her hair was stylishly cut, spiky and short—so short a thought could comb through it, and her clothes were in line with the latest fashion; not the top of the line brands, but good knock-offs. A pair of cheap leather pumps stretched from wide feet. Teeka's hair had been combed into dozens of neat braids that fell around her face. Her almond shaped eyes set deep in her face and a dimple appeared when she smiled.

“It's no problem at all. I'm happy for the company. It gets lonely sometimes with just me and Cocoa.”

“Wow!” Sharneesha looked around. “You opted for the open floor plan. It works really well with your furniture.”

“I loved the airiness of it. It gave the illusion of space without me having to buy a bigger townhouse.”

“I feel ya' on that. When I found out how much these places were worth, I almost fell out.” At the confused look on my face, Sharneesha explained. “Oh, I don't own my place. I rent. I'm on Section 8 with the Chicago Housing Authority.” That meant she was paying little to nothing for a home worth more than two hundred-fifty thousand dollars. Tax-paying citizens were picking up the majority of the bill. Sharneesha said, “It's a well guarded secret. How many people would buy a house in such an exclusive community if they knew they could be living next door to Section 8 tenants? They wouldn't,” she answered, her eyes rolling with disgust. “ Like poor people aren't deserving of a nice place to live.”

A blush of shame spread up my neck. I felt like a snob. “I guess people look at their house as an investment. They'd probably think that this would drag their property values down.”

“And how messed up is that,” Sharneesha commented under her breath, careful that her daughter didn't hear her.

I agreed, adding, “That's life.”

“Yeah, and life can be pretty messed up at times.”

Nodding—I was learning that lesson well—I transferred plates of steaming spaghetti to the table. We all sat down, Teeka perched on a stack of magazines so she could reach the table.

Her mother leaned over and cut her spaghetti. “Say your grace.”

The little girl folded her hands together and bowed her head. “God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food. ‘Men.”

“Very good, Teeka,” I said, while Sharneesha tied a napkin around the little girl's neck.

“She's a bright little girl when she wants to be. Sometimes she can just be so hardheaded though.”

“I can see that. About the bright part, I mean.” I handed the wooden bowl of salad to Sharneesha. “One day I hope I have a little girl just like you,” I said and meant it. I briefly thought about having Damon's child growing inside my body; a perfect little baby girl with Damon's smile and my eyes. Cool shivers of pleasure danced up my spine.

After dinner, Teeka sat in front of the television watching Nickelodeon while Sharneesha and I tackled the dishes.

“So what happened with you and Teeka's father?” I dried another glass and put it in the cabinet.

“I couldn't deal with the other women—so many women I lost count, the lying, the drama. It was too much.”

“How'd you find out?”

Sharneesha snorted and vigorously scoured a pan. “Please, he didn't bother trying to hide it. I found numbers in pockets, noticed he was taking showers as soon as he got home, he started doing his own laundry—all the typical shit. I shouldn't have stayed as long as I did, but I loved him.”

“There ain't that much love in the world.” Wiping the table off, I threw the paper towel in the trash.

Sharneesha finished the last dish, handing it to me. She sat back down at the table and sipped her water. When she looked up, she was frowning. “No disrespect, but I hate when people say that. You can't judge another person's situation until you've been in it.” She flicked a long red fingernail. “What you may be able to tolerate, I may not and vice versa. I had a child to think about. I did what I thought was right at the time.”

Once again, I felt like a judgmental idiot. I put the leftovers away, then leaned against the refrigerator door. “What changed?”

“When I got pregnant the second time, the doctor told me I had herpes. Wasn't hard to figure out how I got it.” Sharneesha massaged the back of her neck, rolled it to release the tension. “The trust had been gone long before I found out I had a STD. But after I lost the baby, I knew I could do better by myself.”

I sat down. “A friend of mine is going through that now, being pregnant and the father not in the picture.”

“Tell her to settle in, she's got a long road to hoe.”

Sharneesha jerked her head at Teeka who was bouncing on the couch while Cocoa danced around her legs. “I mean, it's hard being a mother, period. I have married friends who still feel like single mothers. No matter what your situation, as a mother, the burden falls on you.” A thud caused Sharneesha to rush from the kitchen. She shook the book at her daughter, then bent down and whispered something in her face.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, I said, “Don't worry about it. No harm done. Cocoa probably knocked it off. Sometimes she gets overly excited.”

“Just sit still and watch TV, Teeka,” Sharneesha said in a too loud voice before returning to the kitchen, still mumbling underneath her breath. It took a moment before she focused on me again. “Like I was saying, I know there are some great fathers out there and even some men that have sole custody of their children, but the majority don't do shit.”

Still taken aback, I bobbed my head. “She's strong and I'll help.”

“She's lucky to have you. Most of my friends gave up on me while I was with Teeka's father.”

“Then they weren't really your friends.”

She finished her water and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Trust me, I've learned a lot of lessons the hard way.” Her shoulders slumped and it took a minute before I realized she was crying.

“What's wrong, Sharneesha?” I rubbed her back and waited for her sobs to subside. I passed her a napkin, worried that her daughter had overheard her outburst. Luckily the television was up loud enough and a giggling Teeka was none the wiser.