Secrets

By:

Erosa Knowles

Mr. Baxter, died and left Chastity the bulk
of his estate. Great right? That was until she faced his greedy
relative in a court battle over the estate, which opens a can of
Secrets
. Court exposure sets off a string of events that
reach as high as the United States Senate Chambers and as low as
State prison walls. Through everything, Chastity once again must
face her past
Secrets
. Desperate measures won’t allow her to
push her childhood friend, Lt. Cmdr. Kenton Stone to the side, she
needs his help, even though she hides the biggest
Secret
of
all from him.

Published by Sitting Bull Publishing

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, places,
characters and incidents are either the product of the author‘s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any
actual persons, living or dead, businesses, organizations, events
or locales is entirely coincidental. All trademarks, service marks,
registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the
property of their respective owners and are used herein for
identification purposes only. The publisher does not have any
control over or assume any responsibility for author or third-party
websites or their contents.

SECRETS

Copyright 2011 by Erosa Knowles

2011 All Rights Reserved

ISBN:
9781937334079

First Edition Electronic August 2011

All rights reserved under the International
and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic
or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without permission in
writing from Erosa Knowles.

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in

Federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Edited by: Vicki
Zalascek

Chastity March admitted she’d lost this
round. After multiple refusals to attend mediation, today she waved
the white towel in surrender as she strode down the eerie halls of
the old Philadelphia law firm. The clicks of her serviceable
low-heeled pumps against the beige ceramic tiles competed with the
loud thumps in her chest. Tendrils of cold seeped from paneled
walls plastered with portraits, a pictorial morgue of men and women
who were long dead. Like a fox salivating over sheep, their faces
leapt at her as she passed. Slashes of smiles, gruesome in their
attempt to appear benevolent, mocked her. She suspected these
vultures had created gold nests from the fear and ignorance of
people like Ms. Cook, the elderly housekeeper at the ranch. The
thought leached all moisture from her mouth and throat.

Each dreaded step to the opened doorway at
the end of the hall sent the nausea already churning in her gut, up
a notch. An acrid taste filled the back of her throat as she drew
closer to the room. Closer to the inquisition. Closer to the
disaster with her name on it.

Today, she'd dressed in her best black suit,
each of the five buttons securely fastened on the boxy jacket. The
straight skirt fell a respectable distance below her knees. She'd
pulled back her dark, thick curly hair into a chignon lying on the
base of her neck; stubborn tendrils escaped from the sides,
caressing her dark face. Her goal was to look professional, act
professional, be professional; but most of all, don't kick Maude
Stone’s lily-white ass. Not that the woman deserved her
consideration, she didn't; however, since she represented Mr.
Baxter's estate she'd put her personal feelings aside. For the next
few hours anyway.

Inhaling, she bolstered her wavering courage
before stopping at the doorway. Sunlight glinted off three drinking
glasses set on the long table at the rear of the room. Two people
sat around an oval mahogany table in the middle of the room,
talking softly. One was an older white male with brownish-blonde
hair, average build, and a large round face with buck teeth. The
other was an anorexic-looking older woman with blondish hair, pale
skin and thin, almost non-existent, lips.

Chastity’s eyes slid to the corner of the
room, widening in pleasure at seeing Mr. Jamison, Mr. Baxter's
attorney, well, her attorney now, who sat looking at some papers.
One knot in her stomach eased at the sight of someone she knew who
wasn't overtly hostile toward her. Entering the room, head high as
Mr. Baxter had instructed, she headed toward her attorney, aware
that all conversation had stopped.

Either he heard her approach or he’d been
watching the doorway, because he stood with a welcoming smile and
extended his hand to her.

Mr. Jamison pulled out a chair for her.
"Hello, Chastity. How are you?" His deep husky voice brought a
smile to her face. Calm and soothing, she wondered if he practiced
to get it just right.

Another knot unfurled in her stomach.
Moisture returned to her mouth, allowing her to return his greeting
without stammering. She sat and pulled her chair toward the table.
"I'm fine, sir."

"Call me Richard. I'm your attorney now."
His palm rested on her tightly clasped hands lying on her lap.
"Don't worry, things will be fine. This is just a preliminary.
David told me he discussed this possibility with you." His brow
rose in question.

She nodded after realizing he spoke of Mr.
Baxter. "Yes. Yes, he did. But, I never liked the idea, plus it’s a
long drive from the ranch." She slid her hands from beneath his and
looked around the table.

He leaned forward and spoke softly. "I
understand. David explained you've only left the ranch a few times
in the past ten years."

She nodded. In order to keep her tough skin
tight, she veered away from all discussion about the ranch.

"We'll try and wrap this up quickly, then
you can be on your way." He smiled and returned to the papers he'd
been looking over.

Exhaling, Chastity fought the rising nausea
at the thought of answering questions about her life, about Mr.
Baxter, about the ranch. Some things should be left alone. Two more
people entered the room.

"Damn."

She glanced at Mr. Jamison's scowling face
and followed the line of his gaze. Her stomach dropped, kicking her
heart into high gear as she recognized the overblown, plasticized
face of Maude Stone, Mr. Baxter's sister. The greedy bitch who had
started this mess. At five foot three and two hundred pounds, she'd
stuffed herself into a light pink suit. Her belly hung over the top
of her skirt and the tight sleeves of her jacket threatened to cut
off her circulation at any moment. Next to her stood a short, gray
haired woman with large lips that appeared frozen in a pout. Not at
all attractive on a woman her age.

Chastity's stomach knotted back up with a
vengeance. A buzzing sound that she recognized as nerves, serenaded
her mind. Pushing everything away, she focused on her reason for
being here. Mr. Baxter had given her the ranch. It was hers. People
counted on her to be strong and win this battle. Little by little,
her discomfort eased. At least she could sit without losing her
breakfast.

Besides, this wasn't about her. No matter
how they worded the request for mediation, she knew better. Time to
squash her fears and do what Mr. Baxter had told her to do, exactly
as they'd rehearsed. She sat straight. Random thoughts flew around
her mind, but she refused to allow dread and anxiety to lodge in
her psyche.

"Mr. Jamison, I see your client is here. The
plaintiff is here as well, shall we begin?" The anorexic woman's
deep voice startled Chastity out of her reverie.

"Yes, thank you,” Mr. Jamison answered.

The woman nodded. "Good. My name is Ms.
Jackson. I will serve as Mediator today. Due to the nature of this
claim, I have asked Mr. John Abrams to assist since he has a lot of
experience with these types of cases." She pointed to the man
seated next to her before looking across the table at Maude
Stone.

"As attorney for Ms. Stone, we appreciate
any assistance in setting these matters straight as expeditiously
as possible." Her attorney flipped through a stack of papers,
before glancing across the table to Mr. Jamison.

The mediator nodded. "A grievance was filed
against the will of Mr. David Baxter by his sister, Mrs. Maude
Stone— “

“Why am I here wasting my time?” Chastity
blurted, unable to hold it in any longer, her jaw tight. “Mr.
Baxter had the right to leave his money and property to whoever he
wanted to.” Brows raised and head tilted, she stared at the
shellacked hair on Maude Baxter’s head and wished she had a match
to send it sky-high in flames.

“If he weren’t unduly influenced, which I
believe he was,” Maude snapped, her eyes narrowed in challenge.

The heifer wants to play. Bring it
on.
“So you’re rewriting the law now?” She shoved a tendril of
hair behind her ear.

“Just stating it so you can understand.” Her
tone dripped acid.

“Cut the crap, you’re fighting his will
‘cause I’m black. If I were white, your nose’d be so far up my ass,
I’d be breathing for you.”
He’d told her to
come out
fighting, throw down the gauntlet
.

Maude Stone's neck and shoulders tensed at
the distasteful confrontation. “What’s up with you people?” She
chuckled with an evil grin and pushed herself forward, her breast
squashed against the table.

Chastity’s teeth snapped together as her
face blazed. “You people?” Eyes widening, she leaned forward, palms
on the table, and stood. “Oh hell no, you didn’t.”
This bitch
doesn’t know me.

Maude rolled her eyes. “Yeah, anytime
something happens, you scream it’s because of your color. That’s
getting so old. Somebody says something against the President, it's
because he’s black. If the police make a mistake, take down the
wrong person, it’s because he’s black; if the rent goes up, it
because he’s black; if the sun don’t shine, it’s because of
somebody black. Damn, the sun don’t just shine on black people.
Listen, the only color that matters in the world today is green.
And I’m fighting my brother’s will because you’re a
gold
-digging whore.”

Chapter
2

Although Mr. Baxter had warned her, Mr.
Jamison had hinted at it, and Ms. Cook had flat out told her the
woman was going to be a bitch about not getting the lion's share of
her brother's wealth, Chastity hadn't fully believed it. Why would
a woman who had never talked to or visited Mr. Baxter, who had
known he couldn’t stand her, think she was entitled to anything
from him?

“Ask your husband who’s the whore?
Huh?”Chastity pointed across the table as Mr. Jamison pulled her
back down into her chair. “Can you believe that…that,” she trailed
off as her attorney turned away, listening to the Mediator.

The hum of voices flew as the attorneys
discussed protocol. Her eyes returned to Mr. Baxter's sister.
According to Mr. Jamison, the bitch knew there was no way to
overturn the will, yet she persisted in this mockery, wasting
everyone's time. As if she read Chastity's thoughts, the woman
turned and met her glare. The old bat's lip turned up at the
corner, gloating.