Her Lover's Legacy

by Adrianne Byrd

  “No, no. I’m fine.” Malcolm cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. “You were just talking about…?”

  “The Malawi Outreach program,” she supplied. “We’re waiting for you to update us on the details.”

  “Right. Right.” Malcolm flashed an awkward smile to the ring of senior volunteers. He’d forgotten his pending five-week teaching program. “As many of you know, the Arc Foundation has decided to join forces with the World Camp Organization. They have spearheaded a successful program, working with thirty thousand children with one-hundred-and-fifty rural schools and street shelters in Malawi. They allow individuals to make a significant impact teaching HIV and AIDS education. The next session starts in September—a couple of weeks from now.”

  Paula bobbed her head and jumped in, “So far we have fifteen volunteers ready to go for the first session and ten signed up for late October.” Her gaze slid back to Malcolm. “We have more than enough for the first session, so if you want to delay your trip…?”

  Malcolm shook his head. He needed this trip to clear his head. “That’s not necessary.” He pulled on his smile. “I’m actually looking forward to going.”

  Paula’s frown deepened, but before she could question him further, he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

  Kevin, the office manager, caught him just outside the men’s room. “Mr. Braddock, I have an important call on line one for you.”

  Malcolm frowned. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Gloria Kingsley.”

  Malcolm’s hackles stood at attention. He cleared his throat and said, “Tell her I’m in a meeting and I’ll call her back.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kevin said, his face flushed in embarrassment as he backed away.

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Braddock is in a meeting. He said he’d have to call you back.”

  Gloria’s grip tightened on the phone as her jaw proceeded to grind her back teeth into powder. “Just have him call me at my office,” she said, and then recited her number, though she suspected Malcolm knew it by heart. Returning the phone to its cradle, Gloria lowered her face into the palms of her hands as a way to stave off her burgeoning tears.

  What the hell was going on? Why wasn’t Malcolm taking her calls? She had called him more than once. She thought their passionate night meant something. At least a phone call.

  After waking to an empty bed, Gloria had stumbled into work more than three hours late. That act alone kicked the office’s gossip grapevine into overdrive. Everyone knew she and Malcolm had attended Cayman’s political fund-raiser last night. A few attendees from the office had also witnessed Malcolm’s possessive behavior and how he’d literally dragged her out of there when he’d caught her chatting with Clint Hardy.

  Compliments about her glowing skin and springy walk were a staged fishing expedition by the water-cooler crowd attempting to get the scoop on her resuscitated love life.

  Love life. That was a laugh. She didn’t know what was going on between her and Malcolm right now. She just hoped it wasn’t a one-night stand. When she’d first awakened to an empty bed, she’d foolishly thought Malcolm was in the shower. Then she thought he was in the kitchen. By the time she’d finished exploring her apartment she struggled to face the harsh reality that he was gone. All that was missing from the pathetic scene was money left on the nightstand.

  Gloria had never felt so humiliated in all her life. Even now when she was angry and hurt, she still wanted his explanation. She deserved that much.

  At the knock on the door, she snapped her head up, wiped her eyes and straightened in her seat. “Come in.”

  For about three seconds she hoped Malcolm would be the one opening her door. However, it was Amelia’s cherub face that appeared.

  Her heart sank, but her smile hung firm. “Yes, Ms. Blake. What can I do for you?”

  “I brought up the mail from the mailroom,” she said, easing into the office.

  Gloria wasn’t fooled at this latest fishing attempt, either. “Thank you.” She accepted the bundled stack of envelopes.

  “You’re welcome,” Amelia said, stepping backward toward the door before she finally took the plunge. “Ms. Kingsley, um, are you all right?”

  “Of course,” Gloria lied. “Never better.” She lowered her gaze and feigned interest in the mail. She didn’t have to look at Amelia to know that the woman didn’t believe her, but she’d be damned if she’d ever confess the truth.

  “Well, all right,” Amelia said. “I guess I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”

  Gloria nodded and shuffled through the envelopes.

  “All right.” Amelia stalled, opening the door. “I’m going.”

  Silence.

  Amelia sighed and finally left the office.

  At the soft click of the door, Gloria ended her lackluster performance and tossed the mail on the desk. Why in the hell had she bothered to come into work today? She’d only been in for two hours and it was arguably one of the longest days of her life.

  She glanced at the telephone and mentally commanded Malcolm to call. The long seconds stretched into even longer minutes until she gave up.

  “Screw it,” she snapped. “Forget him.” She wasn’t going to let him ruin the rest of her day. Drawing a deep breath, Gloria reached for her water bottle and chugged half of it down. It was a sorry substitute for a stiff drink.

  This was one of the reasons she’d kept men at arm’s length. The games they played were so juvenile. Why in the world had she entertained the idea that Malcolm Braddock had been the one for her?

  What a joke.

  Gloria grabbed the first envelope on her desk and reached for her sharp letter opener. “I swear, if he was standing in front of me now…” She slid open the envelope, imagining it slicing off parts of Malcolm’s anatomy.

  She stewed over the list of cons for having slept with Malcolm while she unfolded the final bill for Harmon’s American Express card. Tossing a careless glance over the listed charges, her eyes snagged on a peculiar charge from Carlson Travel Agency.

  Her eyes scanned over to the date: July 28.

  The day Harmon died.

  What the hell?

  Reeling, Gloria picked up the phone and called Carlson Travel Agency. While she waited for the line to pick up, she turned toward her computer and pulled up Harmon’s calendar for July. She didn’t see anything about a trip. Maybe he was planning something with Evelyn?

  That was one possibility, but Harmon had always relied on her to book any trip—business or personal. It was a prick to her pride to think Harmon wouldn’t have her handle the transaction. He’d bragged at every turn on how he relied and trusted her implicitly. Everything from calls, travel, events to calendar planning were routed through her. Harmon hadn’t independently remembered a birthday, anniversary or holiday in years.

  “Carlson Travel Agency. This is Michelle, how can I help you?”

  “Michelle, hey. This is Gloria Kingsley over at Congressman Braddock’s office. How are you?”

  “Glo!” Michelle shifted out of her business voice and into her after-hours sistah-girl routine. “Girlfriend, how are you holding up over there? I’ve been meaning to call you since the funeral, but, honey, me and Vernon are on the skids again. You know how we do.”

  “Yeah. Sorry to hear that but—”

  “Girl, I’m starting to think you have the right idea. Cross your legs and forget about these little boys playing at being men. You feel me?”

  Had that been her motto? “Michelle, I was hoping you could help me with something.”

  “Sure. If I can.”

  Gloria picked up the American Express bill again. “I have a strange charge on Harmon’s credit card bill from your agency on July 28. Do you know anything about it?”

  “Ah, yeah.” Gloria pictured Michelle shaking her head. “It was the same day of the accident. That was why I was so shocked when I heard the news. I was like ‘Wow, I’d just talked to him that day.’”

  Glori
a’s frown deepened. She’d almost thought there had to have been some type of mistake. “Are you sure it was Mr. Braddock?”

  “Of course it was him, silly. I chatted him up to see how his fine single son, Malcolm, was doing. Now, that’s a real man. Rich as sin, smart as all get out and fine as hell. Girl, I would toss Vernon to the curb with a quickness if I could sink my hooks in him. Too bad you two can’t stand each other.”

  “That’s not true,” Gloria protested. “Not entirely.”

  “Oh, did something change that I don’t know about?”

  Open mouth, insert foot. “No. I just…um, back to this trip. Where was Harmon going?”

  “Washington,” Michelle answered, apparently not needing to look it up. “Booked it for that evening. Said he had some last-minute business he needed to take care of.”

  “Washington? Business? Why wouldn’t he ask me to book it for him?”

  “No clue. Oops, there’s my other line. Gotta go.”

  “Oh, okay. Talk to you later,” Gloria said, and hung up the phone, thinking. Why would Harmon book his own flight to Washington? She turned back to her computer and pulled up the phone number for Joe Dennis, the congressman’s driver and dialed.

  “Hello.”

  Gloria blinked at the deep, raspy voice. Did the man have a cold? “Mr. Dennis?” she questioned.

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Gloria Kingsley. How are you?”

  “Um.” He coughed a few times and cleared his voice. When he spoke again, he was as clear as a bell. “What can I do for you, Ms. Kingsley?”

  “Well.” She hesitated, and then asked, “I was wondering if you knew anything about Mr. Braddock taking a last-minute business trip the night of his accident?”

  Silence.

  “Mr. Dennis?”

  “Yeah, um. I think he might have mentioned something like that. I dropped him off at the mansion around 4:00 p.m. and left for the night. He said you’d call me for his pickup time.”

  “Huh.” That didn’t make a lick of sense. How could she tell Joe when to pick him up if she didn’t know he was going anywhere?

  “That’s all I know.”

  Silence.

  “Ms. Kingsley?”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks for your time.” She disconnected the call but continued to stare at the phone. After a minute, she turned back to the computer and pulled up another number: private investigator Drey St. John. She picked up the phone, but then just as quickly hung it up. “Get a grip. You’re overreacting.” She laughed at herself. “It was just one ticket. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

  Chapter 16

  “Malcolm, baby! You came.” Evelyn Braddock swept her arms open and embraced her oldest son.

  “Well, of course I made it, Mom.” He leaned forward to allow his mother to cup his face and kiss both sides of his face. “You didn’t think I’d miss your birthday, did you? How have you been holding up? You look well.”

  A beautiful smile graced his mother’s full lips. “I’m leaning on the Lord and taking it one day at a time,” she said. Her eyes twinkled up at him. “The real question is how are you doing, baby?”

  Falling apart. “I’m doing good.”

  His mother’s eyes narrowed to study him—a sign that said she doubted his story. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” She tilted her head to the side to try to see what he was hiding. “What’s that behind your back?”

  Malcolm straightened and presented a cube-size box, wrapped in gold-and-silver paper and graced with a red bow. “You didn’t think I would forget a gift for my best girl on her special day, did you?”

  Evelyn’s smile remained as she shook her head. “You didn’t have to buy me anything. Just having the family here is the best gift right now.”

  “Then, let’s consider this a bonus,” he said, squeezing her waist and then planting a kiss against her forehead. “Where is everybody?”

  “Out in the garden. Tyson has fired up that monstrosity of a grill your father bought last year. Said he thinks he finally figured out how to make Harmon’s secret barbecue sauce.”

  Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Now, that boy knows he doesn’t know nothing about barbecuing. I better get out there before he burns down the backyard.”

  Evelyn chuckled. “Now, don’t you two start,” she warned.

  For as long as Malcolm remembered, his mother’s birthday marked the last summer barbecue. When Malcolm and Tyson were children, their father was named master of the grill and took credit for developing a lip-smacking special barbecue sauce that was the envy of family and friends. Sometime around when Malcolm was in college, Harmon allowed his sons to compete for the master of the grill title. The competition continued to this day, and it probably would go on for the rest of their lives.

  Malcolm and his mother walked through their large family home arm in arm. It was clear that they were borrowing each other’s strength to get through the day.

  From the moment they stepped out on the stone-tiled patio, the smell of Tyson’s barbecue caused Malcolm’s stomach to growl in appreciation. However, Malcolm’s competitive side made him anxious to bump his brother off the grill.

  Marching around the estate’s twelve-foot fountain and down the secluded walkway, Malcolm and Evelyn finally joined their family in the second courtyard in the center of the property’s rich, manicured lawn. “Malcolm, you made it,” Shawnie proclaimed, jumping up from her seat. Malcolm was so glad she had thawed since his last visit. She even looked better, too.

  Tyson glanced up from the grill. “Here comes my competition now,” he announced, wearing a ridiculous red-and-white smock that proclaimed him to be King of the Grill.

  Malcolm’s arm fell from his mother’s waist so he could accept his sister’s wide hug; however, his attention was drawn to another woman sitting serenely at the outdoor table.

  “Ms. Kingsley,” he greeted her with an awkward tilt of his head.

  Gloria’s eyebrows jumped at the formal greeting. “Malcolm. Surely by now we should be on a first-name basis,” she said in a tone that was equally sweet and sour.

  “Of course. You’re right,” he answered stiffly.

  “My goodness, Malcolm,” Shawnie said, easing out of his arms. “You’re so tense,” she noted, giving his shoulders an impromptu squeeze. “Loosen up. We’re all here to have a good time on Mom’s big day.”

  Malcolm tried to relax, but he was finding the task difficult under Gloria’s glare. He didn’t blame her for her open hostility. It had been nine days since that incredible night at her apartment.

  Nine days since he’d felt her incredible body beneath him.

  Nine days since he’d tasted her lips.

  Nine days since they’d uttered a word to each other.

  Nine days since he’d left her bed while she lay sleeping. He tried to brush away his guilt.

  From the corner of his eyes, Malcolm saw his mother approach the table and he quickly went to pull out her chair.

  “Now, don’t you start doting on me,” his mother chastised. “I may be getting older, but I’m not an old lady.” She laughed.

  “I’m just trying to be a gentleman,” he told her, and kissed her cheek.

  “Ah, turning over a new leaf?” Gloria chirped in sharply.

  Shawnie’s and Evelyn’s heads snapped up and their gazes ping-ponged between Malcolm and Gloria.

  Instead of participating in a war of words, Malcolm turned his attention toward Tyson—who, coincidentally, had stopped what he was doing to observe the action from the sidelines.

  “So where is Felicia?” Malcolm asked, changing the subject.

  “She couldn’t make it.” Tyson turned back toward the grill, but not before emotion rippled across his face. “She’s out of town.”

  Concern twisted in Malcolm’s gut as he approached his brother and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man. Is everything all right?” he asked low enough for Tyson’s ear only.

  Tyson glanced over his shoulder, his once
-troubled expression wiped clean. “Sure. Why do you ask?”

  Malcolm’s response was an awkward beat of silence. It was highly hypocritical of him to request his brother to open up to him when he himself had been unable to do so for the past few weeks.

  He needed to do better.

  “Look, Ty. If—”

  “I hope you brought your appetite with you,” Tyson said. “Because once you taste my new sauce, I won’t be able to beat you off these ribs with a stick.”

  “Okay. Now you’re delusional,” Malcolm joked, rolling his eyes.

  “So, Gloria, is it true that Clint Hardy is going to run for Dad’s seat?” Shawnie asked.

  Malcolm hadn’t meant to, but he’d turned toward the table with a scowl.

  Gloria bobbed her head. “Looks that way. He’s holding a press conference Monday to make the official announcement.”

  Malcolm pretended he didn’t feel the kick to his gut.

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to do after the changing of the guard?” Evelyn asked.

  Gloria sighed. “I haven’t made a decision yet. Clint asked whether I would be willing to stay on board—work for him.”

  Malcolm just stared at her.

  Gloria ignored him and kept talking to his mother. “I’m not sure if I agree on some of his ideas, but we’re supposed to go out for a business dinner next week. So we’ll see.”

  “Yeah, right. Business.” Malcolm rolled his eyes.

  “That’s right. Business,” Gloria repeated with strained patience. “And if it wasn’t, I fail to see how it concerns anyone else.”

  “Who’s concerned?”

  For a moment, the small family gathering fell silent again as Malcolm and Gloria shared matching glares.

  “Um, am I missing something?” Shawnie asked, setting down her glass of lemonade. “Is something going on between you two?”

  Gloria laughed. “Not a thing.”

  That was the second kick to Malcolm’s gut—even if it was of his own making.

  Evelyn drew a deep breath during the ensuing silence. “So, Malcolm. What was this big announcement you hinted that you wanted to make?”