By
the time they neared the end, the troupe in general, and Peter and Latesha in
particular, had the audience in the palms of their hands. But tears welled in
people’s eyes as the tragic events approached. Latesha lie motionlessly, her
pretty face visible to the entire audience.
Romeo
delivered a long, passionate speech with perfect articulation. Then he drank
the poison. He leaned over and, in clear view of everyone in the center,
lightly pressed his lips to Juliet’s. Everyone stared at them, hypnotized. The
kiss was soft but deep, short but passionate, joyous but sad. The kiss
persisted for several seconds, during which time not a sound was heard, nor an
eye averted. Then Romeo staggered and fell dead. Women patted their eyes with
tissues and everyone watched Juliet awaken. Once she realized what had
happened, she kissed Romeo and, looking briefly at the audience, ended her own
life with his dagger. Juliet lay dying on Romeo’s body as sniffles and wails
abounded in the hall.
The
final words of the play were spoken and the feuding families saw the folly of
their prejudice. The curtain closed and a bell rang ten times in the darkness.
When the lights went up, people stood and clapped, calling out their
appreciation.
“Bravo!
Bravo!” Jack hollered boisterously.
Two
young black boys, both with brush cuts and dressed in identical black and white
suits, their shirts undone at the collar, looked at each other and laughed at
Jack’s enthusiastic support. One of them called out Bravo twice, then looked at
his brother and laughed.
Many
of the women cried, and most of the children watched in wide-eyed wonder as the
men loudly cheered. People were speaking to each other, complimenting the
performers, laughing and smiling. The curtain suddenly opened and all the
actors, with Peter and Latesha holding hands in the center, stepped forward and
took a bow. A wave of applause, like nothing ever heard before in Beechwood,
resounded in the community center. The buzz lasted twenty minutes before people
shuffled out of the hall.
After
the audience filtered out of the center, Latesha and Peter helped the other
actors put away chairs. They were all excited, and overjoyed.
“What
do you think, Tyrone?” Peter asked.
“That
was a trip, man,” he said, shaking Peter’s hand. “I thought it was going to be
a freaking disaster, but we were damned good. Oh, did you hear Tiny’s news?”
“No,”
said Latesha, perking up.
“Ivan
Strong hired him. Apparently he’s been leaking men to Alberta and the Middle
East. Tiny and three other brothers start Monday.”
Latesha
and Peter looked at each other and smiled. Forty-five minutes later, the center
was tidy again and everyone was gone except Latesha and Peter. They stood on
the stage together for a long time, staring into a perfect silence where only a
short time ago there had been so much movement and life.
“Can
I walk you home now?”
“I’d
like that.”
Latesha
went to one dressing room and Peter to the other. They turned off all the
lights, locked the door and walked up the road in the cold night air. Peter
quickly gave Latesha his jacket and she put it on, holding it around herself.
“What
now?” she asked when they reached the end of her driveway.
“It’s
your decision. It’s always been your decision.”
“I
want you in my life,” she said firmly.
They
simultaneously saw a falling star.
“Make
a wish,” Peter said.
“You
do it. I promise it will come true.”
Peter
closed his eyes. “Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match.” He opened his eyes
to Latesha.
She
laughed at him, her flowery dress tossing in the cool breeze.
“I
love you, Latesha,” Peter suddenly said with great emotion.
“I
love you, too,” she returned immediately, staring into his eyes.
“
Romeo and Juliet
with a happy ending?”
“How
about no ending at all,” she said. “Will you play in that football game
tomorrow?”
“I’ll
be here. If Deon and your father don’t want to play, I’ll go it alone.” He
paused. “I was thinking about something really amazing.”
“What?”
she asked, stroking his hand with her fingers.
“That
night we were at The Old English Club two people came out and got into their
car. Do you remember what song was playing on their stereo?”
“Yes,”
Latesha said, “it was
A Different Corner
by George Michael.”
“Right,”
he said with a handsome smile. “Do you realize that the first day we met, I
wasn’t even supposed to be at the university? One of the other guys hurt
himself that very morning and I had to fill in. When I walked toward the Student
Union Building, there is a paved path to the right and no path to the left.
Normally I would have stayed on the paved path, but because I took a different
corner, we met by sheer chance.”
“Fate?”
Latesha said.
“Maybe
you are my fate,” Peter responded.
“And
maybe you are mine.” She paused. “Maybe we are each other’s.”
Chapter Thirteen
The
next morning the phone rang at nine. Latesha thought it was Peter and hurried
to answer, but was shocked to hear Jack Pearson on the other end. He asked to
speak with her father. Mr. Thomas made a strange face and then spoke on the phone
for a minute before hanging up.
“What
did he want?” Latesha asked quickly.
“He’s
coming here right now,” Mr. Thomas said, knitting his eyebrows. “What the hell
does a lawyer want to talk to me about?”
“I
have no idea, Dad.”
Twenty
minutes later, a large, black sedan pulled into the driveway. Latesha looked
out the window and saw Jack Pearson walking toward their back door. She opened
it before he had a chance to knock and saw the tall, distinguished man in his
expensive, perfectly cut suit.
“Hi,
Latesha,” he said with the smooth charm of an educated, self-confident man. “So
nice to see you again. You were fantastic last night.”
“Thank
you,” she returned with a beaming smile. “Come in.”
He
took off his shoes, placed them on the mat, then noticed Mr. Thomas. “Good
morning, sir.”
“Good
morning,” Mr. Thomas returned suspiciously, obviously fearing bad news. “What
can I do for you?”
Jack
shook hands with him. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. Actually,
I should thank you for rescuing me. My friends have been throwing me an
interminable retirement party and if I eat one more pastry or drink one more
glass of wine, I do believe I will explode.”
Mr.
Thomas politely laughed, but he was nervous.
Jack
sat at the table, opened his briefcase, and took out some papers. “I’ll try not
to take up too much of your time. I would never have bothered you so early, but
I am here on a matter of great importance.”
“What’s
this about?” Mr. Thomas asked with obvious trepidation, feeling highly
intimidated. “My pension isn’t being cut back, is it?”
“No,
sir,” Jack said. “But your pension is one of the reasons I’m here.”
Mr.
Thomas squirmed in his chair and smirked at Latesha.
“Let
me begin by saying how pleased I was to hear you donated the door to the girls
in our ballet program. That was most appreciated and no one was more overjoyed
than Georgina Rutherford.” He arranged some papers. “I understand that you
met.”
“Yes.”
“And
you gave her the door?”
“Yes.”
“Ms.
Rutherford is a wealthy woman, Mr. Thomas. Besides being wealthy, however, she
is also a businesswoman who cannot abide loose ends.” He cleared his throat.
“Ms. Rutherford, as you may know, is passionately devoted to The Old English
Club, particularly the ballet program. It is her pride and joy. She especially
cherishes the door crafted by Moses Thomas. It has a meaning to her that cannot
be expressed in words. Therefore she has asked me to draw up a legal contract
regarding this door.” He slid a paper across the table to Mr. Thomas. “I have
done so and need only your signature.”
“I
already gave it to her,” Mr. Thomas said. “I gave my word. She doesn’t need any
legal documents.”
“All
right,” Jack said with a diplomatic smile, “let me rephrase it. You gave a gift
of great value to Mrs. Rutherford, and now she wishes to give you a gift.”
Mr.
Thomas and Latesha looked befuddled.
“She
only asks that this be made formal,” Jack continued, “but before signing, let
it be understood that your family owns the door and will be lending it on a
permanent basis. Mrs. Rutherford has already made up a plaque to that effect
and it will be installed on the wall beside the door.” He put on his reading
glasses. “It will read, ‘This door belongs to the Thomas family of Beechwood
and is on permanent loan to The Old English Club. The Old English Club would
like to express its sincerest gratitude to the Thomas family for this generous
gift’.”
“I
gave her the door,” Mr. Thomas insisted in a tone that stated he would not
change his mind. “If she wants me to sign something, I’ll sign it. Show me where.”
“There’s
one thing,” Jack said, delaying. “Your forefather, Moses Thomas, was a master
door maker and his work is considered among the very finest examples of
African-American art. An expert appraised this door at a value of two hundred
thousand dollars.”
Both
Mr. Thomas and Latesha stared at him in dumbfounded disbelief. Then they looked
at each other, totally flabbergasted.
“You’re
joking,” Mr. Thomas said.
“No,
sir, I can assure you that I am not.” Jack took out an envelope. “Therefore, to
avoid any question of fair recompense, Mrs. Rutherford has authorized that I
give you a gift in return.” From the envelope he took out a small piece of
paper and handed it to Mr. Thomas. “This is an offer from Mrs. Rutherford in
the amount of three hundred thousand dollars. It is her gift to you, in thanks
for your gift to the little girls.”
Mr.
Thomas and Latesha seemed to literally freeze, as if suspended in time.
“Is
that satisfactory, sir?”
“I
never asked for anything,” Mr. Thomas mumbled, his skin clammy with sweat.
“Ms.
Rutherford is a proud woman, sir,” Jack said, holding up his hands, “and she
personally told me she would not be able to relax unless you accept her gift.
And, as I said, even if you do so, the door will always be recognized for its
connection to the Thomas family.”
“I
don’t know what to say,” Mr. Thomas stammered, rocked to the core by the news.
“Three
hundred thousand dollars?” Latesha said in a hoarse whisper. “Really?”
“Yes,”
Jack responded in a businesslike way. He turned to Mr. Thomas, showed him where
to sign and passed him a pen. “Will you sign, Mr. Thomas?”
Latesha
caught his eye and quickly nodded. Mr. Thomas swallowed hard and then signed
the agreement. Jack put away the agreement, handed him the document, and then
took out more papers.
Jack
cleared his throat. “I was asked by Peter Elsworth to investigate your
situation,” he continued.
“Yes?”
Mr. Thomas said with an awkward glance at Latesha.
“Peter
is my godson,” Jack said. “He is a fine young man. Top of the line. When he
asked me to look into your case, I was pleased to do it.”
Mr.
Thomas and Latesha looked at each other, again in total confusion.
“Peter
told me the company you worked for and I happened to have crossed paths with
the owner before. That made this situation much more amiable.” He smiled
warmly. “Clark Construction is owned by a very rich man with diversified
holdings. His net worth is close to half a billion dollars. When I saw the
settlement his company paid to you after the accident, I was, how shall I
express it, um, vexed. I took the liberty of contacting him.” He closed his
briefcase. “Apparently one of his people said you were at fault.”
“Yes,”
Mr. Thomas said. “They brought in a fancy lawyer who said he could prove I had
been drinking.”
“According
to the transcripts,” Jack said, “the accident happened the day after the Super
Bowl. You apparently had four bottles of beer during the game. Is that
correct?”
“Yes.”
“That
was verified by four separate eyewitness accounts,” Jack said in a smooth,
precise manner. “I also discovered, however, that a fellow worker had
complained about the scaffolding a month before your accident. It was not
repaired.” He shook his head. “That was incredibly negligent, especially
considering that you were a master woodworker from a family of master wood
workers, an outstanding athlete, a husband, a father, a loyal employee for
twenty-five years. Twenty-five years and never missed one day. Not one.” He
sighed. “There had been a report that the scaffolding was faulty and yet this
company put you, a man of your worth and pedigree, up there without so much as
informing you of the danger.” Jack shook his head. “Oh, my, not good.”
“Their
lawyer was intimidating,” Latesha said. “He told Dad to take their offer or he
would lose everything.”
“They
cheated you, Mr. Thomas. Of that there can be no doubt. Fortunately, though,
this situation has been rectified.”
Mr.
Thomas and Latesha hung on every word.
“I
had a very productive meeting with the owner of Clark Construction yesterday
and we’ve come up with a more equitable agreement. They have offered you a one
million dollar injury award.”
“A
million dollars?” Mr. Thomas replied slowly and in disbelief, his heart
thundering.
Latesha
was unable to speak and her face was frozen in shock.
“It,
along with the gift from Georgina Rutherford, will be deposited into your
account the moment I call to confirm your acceptance. As well, your current
pension of twelve hundred dollars per month will be raised immediately to four
thousand dollars per month, annually adjusted for inflation. This will be paid
to you for the rest of your life. It can never be reduced. As well, I have
asked the owner of Clark Construction to show good faith by writing you a
formal apology and he has agreed to do so.”
“Is
this for real?” Mr. Thomas questioned.
“I
assure you it is, sir,” Jack continued. “As well, it should be noted that our
potential adversaries were cooperative and, like me, did not want to engage in
lengthy and unfriendly litigation complete with the inevitable bad press that
would be heaped upon them if this situation was publically exposed.” He smiled.
“Yes, they were very cooperative.”
“I
can hardly believe what you’re saying.”
Jack
picked up his cell phone. “I assure you it is true. Do you agree with these
terms?”
“I’d
have to be a fool not to accept this,” Mr. Thomas stammered.
“I
can tell you are no fool, sir.”
Latesha
nodded profusely, urging her father to agree.
“All
right,” Mr. Thomas said, overwhelmed. “I accept.”
Jack
immediately made a call. “Do it,” was all he said before hanging up. He slid
the folder to Mr. Thomas, showing him where to sign, which Mr. Thomas did.
“Here are the papers outlining this agreement. The money is going into your
account as I speak and the letter of apology will be in the mail. Your next
monthly pension check will also show the adjustment.” He rose. “I have taken
the liberty of forwarding this information to the accounting department in our
legal firm. I have asked, and been given, assurances that they will do your
taxes free of charge, if you request it, for so long as you live, if you so
desire. It’s the accounting department’s retirement gift to me. They are
experts, Mr. Thomas, and will make sure you never relinquish a single penny
that you do not have to. I hope I was not too bold in taking this step.”
“No,”
Mr. Thomas said weakly.
Jack
smiled warmly. “One other thing. It’s a bit hectic right now with this eternal
retirement party my peers are throwing for me, but in time I would like to ask
a favor of you.”
“Anything,”
Mr. Thomas said.
“I’m
an amateur woodworker in my spare time,” Jack replied, somewhat embarrassed,
“and I’m all thumbs, but I do try. I noticed your workshop out back and the
Thomas name is renowned in the world of woodworking. Would it be too much to
ask if I could drop by sometime so you could show me a thing or two?”
“I’d
be pleased to,” Mr. Thomas said sincerely.
“Thank
you for your time and your hospitality, Mr. Thomas,” Jack said with a warm
smile, shaking his hand again. “It has been a pleasure meeting you and I hope
to see you again.”
“Pleasure
meeting you, too,” Mr. Thomas said, swallowing hard.
Jack
walked to the mat and put on his shoes. “Good day, sir.” He turned to Latesha.
“Good day, Ms. Thomas. It was such a great pleasure to see you at The Old
English Club. It’s my fondest hope that you will come again.”
“Thank
you,” Latesha said softly. “I will.”
Latesha
and her father waited until Jack pulled out of the driveway before speaking.
“Can you go down the store?” Mr. Thomas stammered nervously. “Take my bank card
and get the balance. I don’t believe this is happening. I won’t believe it
unless I see it.”
Latesha
ran as fast as she could to the Beechwood Store and slid the card into the
slot. She pressed the pin number with her heart pounding. As she waited, her
chest constricted and she had to consciously remind herself to breathe. After
asking for a balance, there was a brief delay, then the incredible number
showed on the screen: one million, three hundred thousand, one hundred and
thirty-four dollars. She took out the card and stared in shock at the huge
number. Then she ran home faster than she had ever run in her life. Mr. Thomas
looked hopefully at her as she rushed into the house.
“What?”
he asked frantically, his eyes opened wide.
“It’s
there!” she cried. “One million, three hundred thousand dollars!”
He
looked at the slip. “Oh, my God!” he muttered, hardly able to process the
information. “Oh, my God! This is unbelievable, Tesha.”
“You
deserved that,” Latesha said with conviction, her whole body trembling and her features
full of awe. “It belongs to you.”
“We’re
getting a new roof,” he declared.
“Yes,
Dad, yes,” Latesha said, tears in her eyes.
“And
I’m paying off your student loans.”
Latesha
hugged her father and he held her head to his chest, the tears flowing in a
stream.
“Since
your mother died,” he said, “you have been my support, my strength. You’re the
reason I wanted to stay alive. You are the light of my life, Latesha.” He
paused and looked at her with a new understanding. “I can see why Peter has
fallen in love with you. You are a gift from God, my little princess.”
Latesha
held him and cried. A moment later, as if on cue, Peter pulled into the
driveway. Latesha waited for him and when he knocked she opened the door with
the most amazed look.