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Zoë-Grace couldn’t believe it had come to this.
She was sitting in the waiting room at the headquarters of the lottery company in New Kingston, a ten-minute walk from her former office. In a couple of hours, she would be collecting the jackpot she and Isaiah had won.
Everything had happened so fast, or so it had seemed to her at the time. First, Isaiah had called to say he was going to Puerto Rico and wasn’t sure when he would be back. Then she hadn’t heard from him for a week, during which she finished grading papers, submitted all her deliverables, and said goodbye to her colleagues at the community college as her contract came to an end. Maxwell would return to his post at the start of the semester in a week, and she was officially unemployed. And officially broke. At least, she would be broke until around 10:30 that morning.
With nobody at the resort being at liberty to put her in touch with Isaiah and the deadline to turn in the winning ticket looming, she had taken the gut-wrenching decision to sign the ticket and set the wheels in motion for her to collect the jackpot without Isaiah. She had left it as late as she possibly could, but once it was clear that there was no more time left, she did what she had to do, and she hadn’t said a word to anyone except Aunt Ruby. Even Maxwell was still in the dark about what was happening.
In Isaiah’s absence, she had checked in with Aunt Ruby every now and then. The elderly woman assured her that the Fairweathers were taking very good care of her. They hadn’t heard from Isaiah either. He hadn’t been in touch with Zoë-Grace until four days ago. At the time, he still wasn’t sure when he would return to Jamaica.
And so, it had come to this. That morning, Zoë-Grace had left the house before sunrise to catch the coach to Kingston. After leaving a note on the dining table telling her mother she had some business to take care of in Kingston and would be back that night, she had driven to the depot to catch the express coach that would make only a few designated stops along the route. The journey to Kingston would take more than four hours. She could have driven herself, but she was a bag of nerves and figured she might be a hazard to other road-users that particular morning, and it would no doubt be worse after the handing-over ceremony, which is what her contact at the lottery company insisted on calling it.
For the entire journey, she had tried to distract herself by listening to an audiobook, but after replaying the same section four times without anything registering, she gave up and decided to focus instead on a book of Sudoku puzzles. That had helped her to calm down a bit, and it was only when the coach pulled into its New Kingston depot that the butterflies returned to her stomach in full force. The office where her life would change and her anonymity would be lost forever was walking distance from the coach depot, so she had declined several offers from eager taxi drivers and made her way there on foot.
She had arrived two hours before the 10:30 a.m. start time. The headquarters were located in the same office building as the local investment firm for which she was a shareholder. One of her university roommates was the branch manager, and she planned to open an investment account where she would be able to lodge most of the winnings and begin to earn daily interest while she waited on Isaiah’s return so they could make plans to split the cash. She declined the lottery company’s offer of breakfast—she’d already had two cups of peppermint tea and knew she wouldn’t be able to keep down anything solid anyway—and told them she would return in good time. She assured them that she would still be in the building and that she could be reached on her cell phone.
At 9:15, Zoë-Grace found herself being embraced by her first-year college roommate, Mona. Ramona Beckett’s office was well-appointed, and she ushered Zoë-Grace over to the plush burnt orange sofa in one corner, where they both sat.
“Zoë-Grace, girl! It’s so good to see you! Haven’t heard a peep out of you since you moved back to Lucea. How have things been?”
Normally, Zoë-Grace would have been thrilled to catch up with Mona, but this morning, she couldn’t muster up the energy to share her friend’s obvious joy at their impromptu reunion.
“Things have been... interesting, to say the least. I’m so glad you could fit me in without an appointment.”
“Oh, girl. Don’t worry about it. Mornings are a good time for me. I try to schedule everything for after lunch, so I can tackle my to-do list early and not get bogged down in meetings for the whole day. Being manager has its perks, but sometimes I feel like my job is all form and no substance. I rarely get the chance to step out of the office or conference room and just chat with clients, helping them to make decisions about their financial security, which is what made me get into this line of work in the first place. So, what brings you to New Kingston? Just passing through?”
“Actually, I’m here on business.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I have a... situation... and I need your help. Not yours, specifically, but that of your company.”
“Well, I’m here for you. And I mean that literally.” Mona smiled. “If you haven’t sold those stocks you bought back when I was a client relations officer and we had that initial public offer, you’re still part-owner and therefore one of my bosses, so I’m at your service.”
The shares in the investment company were one of the few investments Zoë-Grace had held on to, but that was only because she had bought a minimal number and although the value had increased exponentially in the ensuing years, she wouldn’t have been able to pay the minimum due on one credit card if she sold them, so it didn’t even make sense to do that.
“Good to know.”
She then unloaded everything that had happened regarding the lottery tickets on her longtime friend. They had the kind of relationship where they didn’t see each other often, but they always picked up where they left off last time, and Zoë-Grace trusted Mona implicitly.
By the time she got to the end of the story, Mona had stood up and made her way to her desk. She sat in her leather chair and picked up her phone. “Lydia? Can you bring me two cups of... coffee?”
She looked quizzically at Zoë-Grace, who shook her head and said, “Mint, if you have it.”
“Make that a cup of coffee for me and some peppermint tea for my client. Two teaspoons of brown sugar for her and the usual for me.” She raised her eyebrows at Zoë-Grace, who smiled and nodded, pleasantly surprised Mona had remembered her preference.
The assistant brought the hot drinks within a couple of minutes, and Mona invited Zoë-Grace to join her at the desk.
“So....” She blew some steam from the coffee before taking a tentative sip. “What you’re saying is that you’re getting this huge deposit today and you want my team to invest that in short-term instruments until your... business partner—shall we say?—returns and claims his half?”
“Yes. Can you help?” Zoë-Grace was pleasantly surprised that Mona had taken the news of her winning the lottery without any kind of outburst. She supposed Mona dealt with million-U.S. dollar transactions fairly often. This investment firm was the most popular in the country, and with New Kingston being its flagship office, there was no doubt that the branch manager welcomed high-end clients all the time. The fact that Zoë-Grace had subconsciously classed herself with ‘high-end clients’ wasn’t lost on her. She sighed. So much was about to change.
“Of course. Do you still have a general investment account with us or is it only the equity account?” Mona pulled out the keyboard tray and made a few clicks with her mouse, her eyes now focused on her flat panel computer monitor.
Zoë-Grace shook her head before sipping the mint. “Only the stock I bought.”
“OK. Let’s get you set up.” Mona grinned. “It’s been years since I opened a new account for a client. Let’s see if I still remember how it’s done. Normally, there’d be a lot of hoops for you to jump through, but since you’re an existing shareholder, that will allow us to waive some of the requirements. What’s your TRN?”
Zoë-Grace recited her taxpayer registration number from memory, and Mona typed it into the computer. Her brows wrinkled for a moment and then she grinned. “Actually, you do have an existing investment account with us.”
It was Zoë-Grace’s turn to raise her brows. “I do?”
“Yes. Your name is on a joint account with your father. Looks like he opened it—” she peered at the screen “—when we were starting university.”
“What?”
“Don’t you remember?”
“Not really.” Zoë-Grace sat back in the chair and reflected for a moment. “You know, you could be right. When I was heading off to UWI, Daddy had me sign some forms and told me he was setting up a couple of accounts for me. One was at a commercial bank on campus. Everything went into that account when I was doing my degree—tuition, accommodation costs, money for books, my allowance... all of that stuff. I never asked him about the other account. I didn’t even remember, to be honest.”
“Well, it’s here. Initially, it was a long-term tax-free investment account. He would make a deposit every month for the agreed term and neither of you could touch it for five years, or you’d lose the tax-free status. That kind of account is popular with self-employed people since it’s something like a pension plan. And with his death, you’re the only person on the account now—or you will be, after I add the notation that he has died; you’ll need to provide us with a copy of the death certificate, by the way. At the five-year mark, he instructed us to roll it over on an annual basis.
“It matures in August. If you withdraw it before then, you’ll lose the tax-free status and that means twenty-five percent of the interest will go to the government.”
Zoë-Grace was stunned. “Wow. I had absolutely no idea. I wonder why my mother didn’t tell me about it.”
“It’s possible she didn’t know. Your father didn’t sign up for electronic statements when those became available, but it’s his office address that we have on the system. It’s quite possible the quarterly statements are still at that office. And based on what I’m seeing here, your parents had a joint investment account separate from this one, and those statements go to a residential address. I can’t tell you any more than that. Client confidentiality and all that.”
Her mother had an investment account? “Is there money in that account, too?”
Mona looked her directly in the eyes. “I really can’t say, you understand.” She continued staring meaningfully at her friend. Zoë-Grace understood that while Mona hadn’t actually said anything, she had in fact given her the information she needed.
Mentally, Zoë-Grace was reeling. Her mother had money. Zoë-Grace had money. Her father hadn’t left them without an inheritance, after all. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “So how much will I be able to withdraw come August?”
“Let me see... the current balance including interest is almost fifteen thousand dollars. It will be a little more than that by August, with the additional interest that will accrue between now and then.”
Zoë-Grace’s hope deflated. That wasn’t much at all. Fifteen thousand Jamaican dollars couldn’t cover the electricity bill for a month. She tried to hide her disappointment by taking a sip of the tea. And then it hit her that there was no way her father could have accumulated only a few thousand Jamaican dollars in all that time. Before she could formulate the question that was making its way into her thoughts, Mona spoke.
“It’s a U.S. dollar account, by the way.”
Zoë-Grace choked on the mouthful of mint, and it took her a whole minute to recover. Mona came around the desk and gave her a couple of sharp slaps on the back to help clear her throat.
“What? You’re telling me I have fifteen thousand U.S. dollars I didn’t know about?”
“Not quite fifteen thousand, but yes. And even though you can’t withdraw the money before August without losing the tax-free status, you could certainly use the principal as collateral for a loan. You could even waive the tax-free status, pay the twenty-five percent withholding tax on the interest, and still walk away with a tidy sum. Not that you would need to do that after today.”
Zoë-Grace felt like she might faint. This couldn’t be real. The only reason she had agreed to take a share of the jackpot was her inability to pay for her mother’s surgery, which she could have covered with the money from this account. She could even have gotten the termite problem addressed and still had enough left to pay off one of her credit cards. And she’d never miss that money, since she hadn’t even been aware that it existed.
This was unbelievable.
“So... what are you going to do? Clock is ticking.” Mona indicated the digital clock on her desk, which now read 9:50.
Zoë-Grace’s first instinct was to close out the investment account and take the check back home to Lucea without even stopping at the lottery company’s office. Then she remembered Isaiah. She had promised him she would collect the money during their phone call four days earlier, and he was depending on her. Even if he turned up now, she would still have to be the one to attend the ceremony, since she was the one who had signed the ticket. She could have avoided all of this if only she had known about this account. Then, like it or not, Isaiah would have been on his own.
She took Mona’s professional advice of opening a short-term, low-risk account where she could earn daily interest on the jackpot and signed a letter instructing her commercial bank to make the transfer of funds as soon as possible after the deposit was made. She also found out what Isaiah would need to do upon his return to open his own account to facilitate an easy transfer of funds. At the bank of elevators, she thanked Mona profusely and promised to return to the office after the handover. As she ascended, she wished she could slow her movement towards the penthouse headquarters and what she was sure would be her eventual doom.
__________
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Zoë-Grace had considered wearing some kind of mask to disguise her face, as other jackpot winners had done in recent times, but had eventually settled on the largest sunglasses she could find. She could cover her whole face—her whole body, as one recipient who turned up dressed like a clown had done—but with a name like Z. Goodluck, there was no way she could conceal her true identity from those who knew her or her family. She and Joanna were likely the only Goodlucks in Jamaica. Why couldn’t her father have had a less unusual surname like Brown or Williams?
She collected the over-sized check, frowned for photographs, and escaped back to Mona’s office as quickly as she could. Her identity was safe for now, but she was sure the news would be out within four hours. Mona ordered a light lunch to be delivered to her office and Zoë-Grace almost enjoyed the won-ton soup, which didn’t sit too heavily in her stomach.
After confirming that the funds had been deposited into her investment account—they moved much faster when there were five million U.S. dollars involved, apparently—she accepted Mona’s offer to take her to the coach depot in her car. She didn’t think she had the strength to walk back. She hugged her friend, thanked her for all she had done and had promised to do on Zoë-Grace’s behalf, and said goodbye before checking in for the return trip to Lucea.
Her mind refused to wrap itself around the fact that she’d had access to thousands of U.S. dollars all along, and she couldn’t even think about the fact that she was now a millionaire, so she willed herself to fall asleep on the journey back. The Lord knew she would need every ounce of energy to defend herself when her mother found out what she had done today.
__________
She walked into the house in Lucea some time before 9:00 that night to find her mother sitting in her usual spot at the dining room table. All the lights were off except the one in the kitchen, which back-lit her mother, making it impossible for Zoë-Grace to see her facial expression. She had no idea if her mother was aware of what had happened earlier that day, since she had turned her phone off as soon as she got onto the coach in New Kingston several hours earlier.
“I was there, you know.”
Zoë-Grace didn’t bother to greet her mother. Instead, she hung her bag on the back of the chair and sat across from Joanna at the dining table.
“There, where?” Zoë-Grace figured her mother couldn’t have been in New Kingston that morning, so she decided to follow the trail Joanna was leaving for her.
“At your first communion that morning. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. You were fifteen and your father was so proud to be the one to serve you the bread and the wine. Best day of his life, he said.”
Zoë-Grace wondered where Joanna was going with this.
“It’s really no wonder, then, that with a man like that welcoming you into the faith, you should turn out to be no less of a hypocrite than him.”
As was so often the case in Joanna’s presence, Zoë-Grace could feel the ire rising inside her, but she took a deep, calming breath to counteract it. She inhaled through her nostrils, held her breath for a count of four, and then exhaled through her mouth. She was already drained—both physically and emotionally—and she didn’t think she had the strength to argue tonight.
“I remember asking you about those lottery tickets a few weeks ago, and you made up some lie about them being for a class.”
Zoë-Grace had never been quite sure exactly what a harrumph was, but she was pretty sure that was the sound her mother made.
“Can you tell me why you—a young lady who calls herself a Christian—decided to make a national spectacle of herself by collecting a lottery jackpot on television? Did you want the whole country to know that I’m not only the wife, but also the mother of a church hypocrite? When I saw what they were saying on the news, I made sure to turn off my cell phone and unplug the land line before the calls of condemnation started coming in.”
Zoë-Grace sighed loudly and counted to ten before opening her mouth to respond. “Do you happen to have a million dollars in either U.S. or Jamaican currency available to you?”
Joanna didn’t respond. She folded her hands in her lap and narrowed her eyes in her daughter’s direction.
“Exactly.” Zoë-Grace knew that now was not the time to confront Joanna about what she had learned from Mona that morning. “When I woke up this morning, neither did I. Did you have any idea where I was going to get the money from to pay the medical center? Or hire an exterminator? Or insure my car, for that matter? I’ve been living on my credit cards for the last six or seven months, using cash advances from one to pay the minimum balance on another. Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, as they say.
“Where was I supposed to get money from for all these expenses that have tumbled down on me all at once? We’re not rich, Mother! We don’t have that kind of money, especially after burying Daddy. You’ve got a fixed income, and I’m unemployed. My savings account is empty. This morning when I woke up, my only assets were an archaic car and a few hundred shares in a company. Last time I looked, I didn’t see a money tree bearing hundred-dollar notes in our backyard. I’m maxed out! I’ve exhausted all my options, Mother. I couldn’t get a loan if I tried.
“And I did buy the tickets for a class, not expecting to win! I didn’t even want to win. Believe it or not, I didn’t go out looking for this to happen; it just did, and I won’t allow you to condemn me over something I had no control over. I collected that check today because of you.”
Her mother’s eyes were wide, but Zoë-Grace was only stopping to take a breath. She knew how to voice a monologue; after all, she had learned from the very best. She got to her feet, her body and soul weary.
“And I am not a church hypocrite. Do you want to know who a church hypocrite is, Mother? A church hypocrite is someone who claims to be a believer but only practices their belief inside the church building. A church hypocrite judges others, seeing the speck of sawdust in their brother’s eye while walking around with a whole lumberyard in their own eye. A church hypocrite sits in the choir loft every Sunday but lives an unholy life when the robe comes off. A church hypocrite prays the loudest at the altar but harbors unforgiveness in their heart.
“I am not a church hypocrite. I understand that I’m a sinner saved by the same grace that saves other sinners. I understand that I can’t be forgiven without forgiving others. I understand that Christ is my righteousness because I have none in me.
“I don’t know why God allowed me to win part of the lottery, but I do know that I won’t allow the judgment of others to prevent me from using it to do what needs to be done right now. And that may well include paying for your surgery so you can continue to sit in the church choir and judge me and everyone else who isn’t as holy as you think you are.
“You can tell me right now, Mother, if you would prefer to live without the surgery or a roof over your head or a car to move around in. If you would, I’ll give my share of the money to charity in the morning. Just let me know.”
And with that, she grabbed her bag, went into her bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it with the key.
__________
Joanna was gone when Zoë-Grace finally surfaced the next morning. She hadn’t heard a peep out of her mother all night, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. When she woke up at around 9:30, she was shocked that she had slept the entire night. Lately, sleep had been sporadic at best for her. Maybe she should have told her mother off weeks earlier.
As she sipped her coffee, she powered up her cell phone and wasn’t in the least bit shocked at all the missed calls and text messages that had come in. Maxwell had called her six times. She sent a quick text to say, “I know. I should have told you. I promise I can explain. Talk soon.”
As she was scrolling through the messages, the phone vibrated before ringing in her hand.
She answered it when she saw who was calling. “Isaiah?”
“Zoë-Grace! How are you? How did it go yesterday?”
“Alright, I guess. How are you?”
“I’m good. I’m back!”
“Wow, what great timing.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“I know, right? I’m really sorry about how things turned out, but I’m here now, and I’m ready, willing, and able to do anything I can to make this easier for you. I’ve got to go, but if you need anything... anything at all, just give me a call and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Will do. I’m glad you’re back. By the way, I’m keeping my phone off, so if you need to reach me, send a text and I’ll see the message when I check in.” She gave him her email address as well.
They said goodbye and Zoë-Grace turned the phone off. She sat there for a while, staring into her coffee cup as if she expected the answers to all her questions to present themselves in the rising steam. She wondered where her mother was. Probably gone to a lawyer’s office to begin the steps to have her wayward, Godless daughter disowned. Well, now was as good a time as any to figure out the details of her mother’s surgery and what she needed to do to prepare the house for termite treatment.
She retrieved the small leather-bound journal in which she made jottings but couldn’t find the number for the medical center in Lucea. She wanted to talk to them about scheduling the surgery as soon as possible. She also needed to send a copy of her father’s death certificate to the investment bank. She intended to move back to Kingston as soon as possible. There was no way she was staying with Joanna one minute longer than she had to.
Unlike her mother, who didn’t think it was necessary to respect boundaries because she paid the mortgage for the entire house, Zoë-Grace usually didn’t invade anyone’s personal space. But on this occasion, she felt justified breaking her own rule. Out of respect, she knocked on her mother’s door before entering.
She was shocked by the condition of Joanna’s bedroom. Considering how picky her mother was about keeping the house tidy all the time—because in her words, “cleanliness is next to godliness”—Zoë-Grace was amazed to see the bed unmade, with a few items of clothing strewn across it. Clothes that Zoë-Grace hoped were clean were thrown over the back of the rocking chair in one corner. There was even a towel on the floor! She would never have believed it if she hadn’t seen it for herself.
Shaking her head, she moved directly towards the bed. Her mother had been keeping all the important papers under her mattress for Zoë-Grace’s entire life. Lifting the end of the mattress, she wasn’t surprised to see papers of all kinds, and stood there wondering how she was going to find what she needed. While awkwardly holding up the heavy queen-sized mattress with one arm, she shifted unopened mail aside until she saw several large brown envelopes held together with a paper clip. The one on top was stamped with the logo of the Registrar General’s Department, which issued birth, marriage, and death certificates, so she reached for the stack and gently lowered the mattress into place.
She sat on the end of the bed and slipped off the paper clip. Two of the three envelopes she was holding were heavy, with no markings on them. From the third, she slipped the death certificate and skimmed it quickly. She would never get used to the idea that she lived in a world where her father did not.
She set that package aside and reached for the next. Inside, she found several smaller envelopes, each bearing the logo of the investment bank where Mona worked. They were all addressed to Vincent Goodluck/Zoë-Grace Goodluck. All of them had the address of her father’s former company, along with a handwritten note on each one that said “Forward to” and the residential address on it. There could be no doubt that these were the quarterly statements Mona had mentioned. The other large package featured similar statements addressed to both her parents.
Her curiosity piqued, Zoë-Grace got up and lifted the mattress again. Among the countless envelopes, she found the letter from the medical center as well as one from the building society that held the mortgage on the house. There were also a few letters from the company where her father had worked. The one from the building society was addressed to her mother and was unopened despite the word URGENT stamped across it in red. What if her mother had been getting notices about the mortgage being in default and had ignored them? Bearing in mind the way she had ‘forgotten’ to mention the termite problem, Zoë-Grace wouldn’t put it past Joanna to withhold information that could have a major impact on both their lives... and their wallets.
Satisfied that there was nothing else that would be of interest to her, Zoë-Grace moved everything to her bed and sat to go through the papers.
An hour or so later, she was sitting at the dining table when she heard keys in the front door. She placed her hands on the table in front of her and wove her fingers together. Resisting the urge to twiddle her thumbs, she waited for her mother to come in.
“Zoë-Grace.” Joanna’s greeting was cold as she stepped inside. Her eyes widened as she looked at the table, which was half-covered with bank statements and other paperwork.
“Mother.” Zoë-Grace’s tone was clipped.
“What’s going on here?” Joanna closed the door and placed her oversized bag on the end table closest to her.
“I should be the one asking you that question.”
Joanna reached for the bag and strode purposefully towards the hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. “I don’t have time for this. I’m expecting a visitor in half an hour, and everywhere I went in town this morning—” she began.
“Sit down, Mother.” Zoë-Grace had never spoken to her mother in such an authoritative tone. It was the tone she reserved for students who were being disrespectful in class.
“Pardon me?” Joanna narrowed her eyes.
“Sit. Down.”
Her mother appeared indecisive, but after a few seconds, she sighed loudly and sat across from Zoë-Grace.
“Do you know what these are, Mother?” Zoë-Grace waved her hands over the documents on the table.
“They look like statements.”
“That’s because they are statements. At least, that’s what these over here are.” She pointed to a set of mail that had been opened and stacked. “These over here,” she indicated another stack, “are from the life insurance company. And this letter right here is from the building society.”
Joanna stiffened. As she opened her mouth, Zoë-Grace spoke. “Before you ask what I was doing in your bedroom, let me hasten to say that I am not in the habit of going through anyone’s things, least of all yours. I was trying to find the letter from the medical center so that I could find out the next step to get you scheduled for surgery. Life-changing surgery. Life-changing surgery that was going to cost me several months’ worth of my salary, had I still been employed at the college. Life-changing surgery that, it would appear, could have been paid for months ago.”
Joanna opened her mouth but snapped it closed again.
“I could have afforded to pay for the surgery, Mother, because according to these statements, my father left me almost fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of investments that I knew nothing about. Fifteen thousand U.S. dollars!”
Her mother slumped a little in her chair before sitting up straight again and finding her voice. “My name isn’t on that account, Zoë-Grace. It would have been illegal for me to open those envelopes.”
“Probably, but it was perfectly legal for you to give the statements to me since my name is on the account and on the envelopes! You’ve been hiding these from me for months. And you can’t tell me you didn’t know their contents, since there are several years’ worth of opened statements under the mattress. The last one that was opened was dated just after Daddy died.” Zoë-Grace couldn’t afford to lose her temper, so she forced herself to calm down by counting to ten, and then fifty.
“As it turns out, you could also have paid for the surgery yourself. In cash. Using funds from just one of your investment accounts. And yes, I looked at your last statements from each of those accounts.
“And then there is Daddy’s life insurance. I called the company. It’s a good thing the agent I spoke to already knows all about me, so I didn’t have to convince him about who I was. Of course, he lives and works in Montego Bay, so he would have no idea that I live right here in Lucea and not in Canada as he was told!” She took several measured breaths and continued, “He explained that Daddy’s life insurance was meant to cover his funeral.”
Joanna stared somewhere over Zoë-Grace’s shoulder. Her daughter could see that her jaw was working as if she was trying hard to keep her mouth closed.
Zoë-Grace moved on. “I also looked at this,” she lifted the letter from the building society. “This letter states that Daddy had bought insurance for the mortgage. The loan was completely paid off when he died. You own this house outright, and yet you deliberately led me to believe that most of your pension was going into paying the mortgage.”
Joanna cracked her knuckles one by one, keeping her gaze on her fingers.
For some reason, Zoë-Grace found the sound so annoying that anger rose within her to the point that she could hardly see straight.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Mother? You’ve been draining my savings dry for the last year, making me pay for things you were fully able to afford with your pension check every month. You made me leave my job in Kingston because you said you couldn’t handle all the expenses of this house on your own and you knew I couldn’t support two households. I gave up everything to come and live with you... everything! And you could have been supporting yourself all this time!”
Joanna’s lack of response prompted Zoë-Grace to keep going. “Do you have any idea what it took for me to walk onto that stage in front of all those cameras and collect that big fake check? I gave up my anonymity because you needed more than I could give you and you’ve been keeping all this from me?”
“How was I to know you weren’t getting statements from the investment company?”
“Because the statements addressed to me were coming here! Daddy signed me up for those accounts when I was starting UWI. I didn’t even know he was putting money into them every month for years and years! He didn’t say anything and even after he died, you just kept hiding everything from me!
“You watched me quit a job I loved, a job I was good at. You watched me sell my SUV. You watched me go deeper and deeper into debt. You watched me struggle to remain motivated to go to a teaching job I absolutely hated. You watched me. You watched me! I put my life on hold because you needed me, when the truth is that you just wanted to control me.”
Joanna got to her feet and spoke in an eerily calm tone. “I would appreciate it if you would clear off the dining table. We are expecting an important visitor at one-thirty.” She headed into her bedroom and slammed the door, leaving Zoë-Grace gaping after her. Just as she was about to get up, she heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up to the curb. Leaving the papers on the table, Zoë-Grace moved towards the window and shifted the curtain in order to see who the visitor was.
She didn’t recognize the man getting out of the vintage Jaguar parked in front of the house. She did, however, recognize his black shirt and stiff white collar. He reached into the car for a suit jacket and donned it.
That was quick. It had been less than eighteen hours since the news broke.
Leaving the papers on the table, she moved towards her bedroom, stopping only to fill a glass with water from the refrigerator. She ignored the knock on the door and retreated into her sanctuary. There, she busied herself in filling her carry-on sized suitcase with a few days’ worth of clothes, shoes, and toiletries. She slipped her Bible, devotional, and journal into the front of the suitcase and added her tablet and device chargers.
After taking a quick shower, she grabbed a clean towel and washcloth along with her toothbrush and toothpaste. Quietly making her way back to her bedroom, she got dressed before taking hold of her suitcase, work bag, and laptop case, along with her purse. As she glanced around the room to make sure she hadn’t missed anything important, she considered slipping out the back door, but she needed some of the papers she had left in the living room. She took a few deep breaths to steel herself. She was tired and her very spirit felt drained.
In the living room, her mother was beaming. Zoë-Grace didn’t bother to greet the minister as she stopped at the dining table and gathered the documents that bore her name, as well as the death certificate. She was slipping them into her laptop case when Joanna cleared her throat and spoke.
“Zoë-Grace, this is Bishop Jehu Jenkins. He’s the new bishop of our denomination. He just started in the post a few months ago and hasn’t even had a chance to visit all the churches yet.”
And yet here he is. Zoë-Grace had to force herself not to voice the words.
The man got to his feet, and Zoë-Grace gave him a quick once-over. His hair was graying at the temple, and the wrinkles around his eyes suggested that he was somewhere over the age of sixty. She could tell that he was sizing her up, so she made the effort to stand without slouching.
“Miss Goodluck—”
“Please call her Zoë-Grace, Bishop,” her mother gushed. Zoë-Grace was sickened. It was like they hadn’t had a major confrontation half an hour earlier.
The Bishop gave Joanna a condescending look and turned to her. “Zoë-Grace, then. I’m pleased to meet you.”
He held out both hands with expectation, and although she didn’t want to, Zoë-Grace placed her right hand between them, allowing him to hold it. She didn’t like the way he gazed into her eyes as he patted her hand. It was an intimate look—as if he wanted to see her very thoughts.
“Likewise, I’m sure.” She fought the urge to pull her hand from his, instead waiting patiently for him to realize that he had been holding it too long. When he released it, she placed it flat against her thigh. She would try to wipe it off in a minute, when it wasn’t so obvious. The denim pants would absorb the dampness that had been transferred from his hand to hers. She wondered how bad it would look if she pulled out one of her wet wipes. There was something about him that didn’t sit well with her.
“Sit, Zoë-Grace, sit.” Zoë-Grace arched both her eyebrows at her mother, but after hesitating for a split second, her curiosity won out and she complied. Whatever was happening here was going to be interesting.
As her mother sat in the love seat beside her, Zoë-Grace looked from one person to the other with expectation. Surely, they didn’t expect her to speak first.
Apparently, they did. After a minute of politely fake-smiling at the minister and then at her mother, Zoë-Grace opened her mouth. “Bishop Jenkins, what brings the bishop of an entire denomination to our humble rural abode this lovely afternoon?”
“Oh, Zoë-Grace, it’s just marvelous! Just marvelous!”
Zoë-Grace turned to Joanna. “What is, Mother?”
“The reason for his visit. Wait until you hear what he has to say!”
Zoë-Grace hadn’t seen her mother this animated in years. She wished she could drum up some excitement of her own, but it wasn’t happening. With each passing second, she was dreading what was about to happen more and more.
She deliberately turned away from her mother and towards this minister sitting in her father’s armchair. “Bishop?”
“Well, Miss... I mean, Zoë-Grace.” He looked toward her mother, whose furious nodding shook the love seat, annoying Zoë-Grace even more. The pastor continued, “I have come to discuss a serious matter with you. Now, this is not a normal visit. As a bishop, I’m very busy and do not usually have the time to visit church members, but I decided to take time out of my busy schedule to come all the way to Lucea to talk with you personally.”
He paused as if awaiting grateful acknowledgment from Zoë-Grace. It was not forthcoming, and he pressed forward.
“I’ve come to make you an offer. The pastor of your mother’s church told me the... situation, and he has impressed upon me how uncomfortable you are with it. Your mother even told me—in the strictest of confidence, of course—that you didn’t actually purchase the winning ticket for yourself, but for a class.”
Zoë-Grace fought the urge to drum her fingers on the arm of the love seat.
“So, she and I have been talking and... well, how would you feel about donating the money to the church?”
Zoë-Grace was sure she wasn’t hearing correctly, so she said, “Excuse me?”
“I—I mean, the church, the denomination, really—is willing to take the entire sum off your hands.”
“You want me to donate my lottery winnings to your denomination?”
“Well, yes. Your mother and I agree that it would be a good way of killing several birds with one stone.”
“And what... birds... would we be seeking to kill, Bishop?” She picked a minuscule piece of lint from her pants.
“Well, she explained that you didn’t want to keep the money yourself. And the denomination is in dire need of funds for... building projects and such. Why, I can just imagine you and your mother opening the... the Joanna Goodluck Fellowship Hall, for example. Can’t you just see it?” He looked as excited as a chocaholic in front of a slice of double fudge chocolate cake.
“Don’t you think that would be a bit... hypocritical, Bishop?” Zoë-Grace narrowed her eyes.
“In what way?” He suddenly became serious.
“Well, Bishop, I just think it odd that a denomination that preaches against the evils of gambling and spends a lot of preaching time informing the congregation that Jesus condemned the act... well, I find it hard to believe that such a denomination would not only accept, but actually ask for the proceeds of gambling to be given as a gift. Do you mean to tell me that the denomination wishes to profit from such an unholy enterprise?”
The bishop sputtered a bit before taking a sip of water from the glass on the end table. “Well, Miss Goodluck, I’m not saying that the denomination wishes to profit from gambling. After all, it is not the denomination that purchased the tickets. However, churches accept donations all the time. What difference does it make where the donation came from?”
Zoë-Grace looked at him through the narrow slits that had once been her eyes. “Do you even hear yourself, sir?”
He sat up straight and ran his finger between his collar and his neck. “Miss Goodluck, the church in Jamaica is not a government entity. The church does not question the source of funds when it is accepting donations in the form of tithes and offerings. How do we know whether the money that ends up in the offering plate isn’t the result of some kind of criminal enterprise? Do you know, Miss Goodluck, that since so many Jamaicans in this part of the country have gotten involved in lottery scamming, the donations to the average church in this region are up by more than forty percent? Why, the Bible itself tells us in Proverbs thirteen and twenty-two that the wealth of the wicked is laid up for the righteous, and who is more righteous and deserving than the church?”
With that, Zoë-Grace stood and retrieved her things. Joanna had been quiet since the bishop had opened his mouth, but Zoë-Grace could see that she was more than a little upset. It was clear that she had approved of this scheme.
“Bishop Jenkins, I wish I could tell you that it has been a pleasure meeting you, but I simply cannot. I wish you all the best as you try to collect tithes and offerings from lottery scammers and others involved in ‘some kind of criminal enterprise,’ as you put it. I’m afraid I must take my leave now. If I stay here, I will undoubtedly say something that I will regret and eventually find myself repenting for.” The bishop’s mouth fell open and she turned to her mother.
“Mother, I’m leaving. I trust you can keep busy making your own arrangements for that upcoming procedure you will need to schedule and the exterminator and roofing contractor you need to call.” Zoë-Grace almost smiled when an expression of horrified embarrassment crept onto Joanna’s face. She headed towards the door. “See you when... if... I return. Bishop.” She gave a single nod in the man’s direction.
Her mother sat there as still as a stone, and Zoë-Grace was glad she wouldn’t be there when the clergyman left, and Joanna’s stoic mask fell. As she walked determinedly away from the house and the Jaguar parked in front of it, she wondered if psychotherapists made house calls. She’d have to find out.
Without looking back, she got into her little car and drove away, grateful the bishop hadn’t blocked the driveway. She ticked off a mental checklist and realized that she had everything she would need to get away for a few days, except a destination.