The moment I saw my brother cruising around in a shiny red convertible, I knew something was off. Little did I know, that car held the key to a betrayal I never saw coming — and a plan Gran had set in motion long before she was gone.
My name is Juniper. I’m 26 now, and I’ve been living out of state for four years. Honestly, it was the best decision I ever made: to get away from my family and from all the hurt that came with it.
It wasn’t like I ever felt a part of them. My parents had always favored my older brother, Maverick. You could say he was the golden child, but that doesn’t even cover it. Growing up, I was just… there. The “spare,” as Gran used to joke, though there was always a tenderness in her voice when she said it.
That’s part of why I left. Well, that, and Noel — my boyfriend. He convinced me it was time to live for myself, to create something outside the shadows of my family.
We packed up our little car, and I moved with him to the city, away from my parents, Maverick, and all the memories.
“Noel, I swear, I just couldn’t stay there anymore,” I had told him over dinner once. I still remember the way he’d smiled at me from across the table, his hand reaching out to grab mine.
“You don’t need to explain it to me again, June. You did the right thing,” he had reassured me, squeezing my hand. “You deserve more than being the second choice.”
Even after four years away, I barely spoke to my family. Calls came less frequently, texts became a rare formality. My parents? They didn’t seem to mind, honestly. It was like I had just faded out of their lives. The only one who stayed in touch was Gran.
She was the one person in my family who made me feel like I mattered. When I was younger, she’d sneak me chocolate bars when my mom wasn’t looking, or call me on the phone late at night just to hear how my day went.
Gran didn’t care if it was boring or if I felt like my life was a mess. She just listened.
And then, one day, I found out she died. Accidentally. No call, no message, nothing. Can you believe that? I was scrolling through Facebook, of all places, and saw a post from an old family friend. Gran’s picture. A date and a “Rest in Peace” note.
I couldn’t breathe. I stared at my phone, waiting for things to make sense, but they didn’t. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest.
I dropped my phone on the table, stood up, and muttered, “Gran’s gone.”
Noel looked up from the couch. “What? What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She died. No one even told me.” I could feel the burn of tears, but it was more than sadness; it was anger and perhaps betrayal. “How could they not tell me?”
Noel was up in a second, pulling me into a hug, but it didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t my parents called me? Even Maverick. Nothing.
I booked a flight back home that same night.
I didn’t care what it took — I had to visit Gran’s grave. I had to say goodbye, at least on my own terms. The next morning, I found myself walking through my hometown, the place I hadn’t seen in years, the place I had fought so hard to escape. Everything was as I remembered, except one thing.
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
As I stood at the corner of the street near the cemetery, I spotted something that made my blood run cold. My brother, Maverick, cruising by in a shiny red convertible.
Maverick? The one who still worked as a cashier, who could barely make ends meet? He was driving a red convertible that looked like it cost more than his entire life savings.
My stomach churned. Something wasn’t right.
Later that day, I found myself standing by Gran’s grave, the soft rustle of the trees the only sound around. The earth was still fresh, and I couldn’t shake the knot in my stomach. Gran was really gone. I hadn’t been able to say goodbye properly: no chance to tell her how much she meant to me.
The pain of finding out about her death through a Facebook post still stung like an open wound.
As I knelt beside the grave, I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up to see Mr. Anderson, Gran’s best friend. He was a kind, older man, always hovering around Gran, helping her with anything she needed. His face was somber as he approached.
“Juniper, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, standing beside me. “Your Gran… she was a one-of-a-kind lady.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She really was. I just wish I had more time with her.”
He nodded, his eyes distant. Then, after a moment of silence, he turned to me and asked, “Did you get the $20,000 she left you?”
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
Mr. Anderson’s brow furrowed. “Your Gran. She mentioned in her will that she set aside $20,000 for you. I just assumed you knew.”
My heart dropped. Suddenly, the red convertible Maverick was driving made all the sense in the world. The anger that had been simmering inside me boiled over. “No,” I muttered, standing up, fists clenched at my sides. “I didn’t know.”
Mr. Anderson’s face paled. “Oh, Juniper, I’m so sorry.”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. I had to get to Maverick’s trailer. Now.
I stormed back to my car, my mind racing. Maverick, who could never hold down a steady job, was suddenly driving around in a flashy car, and I hadn’t thought twice about it? Of course, it was my money. The money Gran left me — the one person in my family who actually cared about me — and he stole it without a second thought.
When I pulled up to Maverick’s trailer, I was ready for a full-blown confrontation. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks. There, crumpled in the driveway, was the red convertible, completely wrecked. The front bumper was smashed, the windshield shattered, and the tires looked flat, like the car had been in a serious accident.
And there, standing in the doorway of his beat-up trailer, was Maverick. He was leaning on crutches, a cast covering his leg, and his face was bruised, a mess of cuts and scrapes.
Karma had already caught up with him.
I walked up to him, my anger momentarily replaced by shock. “Maverick, what the hell happened?”
He shifted uncomfortably on his crutches, his eyes darting away from mine. “It’s… it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” I gestured at the totaled car. “That doesn’t look like nothing. What did you do? And why did you take Gran’s money, Maverick?”
He winced, knowing he couldn’t avoid it any longer. “I didn’t mean for it to go like this, Juniper. I… I just thought I’d borrow it. I was gonna pay you back. But then I saw that car, and…”
“Borrow it?” I was incredulous. “You don’t just ‘borrow’ twenty thousand dollars that wasn’t left to you. Gran left that money for me, and you took it like it was nothing. And now look at you. This is karma, Maverick. This is what you deserve.”
Maverick opened his mouth to protest, but I wasn’t finished. “You’ve always taken everything. My parents’ attention, their affection: everything was always about you. But this? This was different. This was from Gran, the one person who actually gave a damn about me, and you stole it.”
Maverick hung his head. “I messed up, okay? I thought—”
“You thought what?” I snapped. “That I wouldn’t find out? That I didn’t deserve what Gran left me?”
He didn’t have an answer. We stood there in silence, the weight of everything hanging in the air. Then, just as I was about to turn and leave, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Mr. Clearwater, Gran’s lawyer.
“Mr. Clearwater?” I answered, keeping my eyes on Maverick.
“Juniper, I’ve been going over your grandmother’s will,” Mr. Clearwater said. His voice was calm and steady, as though he knew I needed some reassurance. “There’s something you should know. Your grandmother predicted this might happen.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.
“She knew Maverick might try to take the money, so she had a plan in place. The $20,000 was only a part of her estate. The rest of it — her house, her savings, her investments — it’s all yours, Juniper. She left everything to you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Everything?”
“Yes, everything,” Mr. Clearwater confirmed. “Your grandmother was very clear. She wanted to ensure you were taken care of, so you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, but they weren’t just from sadness. Gran had known. She saw this coming, every bit of it, and she had protected me in the way only she could. Even in death, she was still looking out for me: still showing me that I mattered.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I looked at Maverick. “I hope that convertible was worth it, Maverick. I hope you enjoyed the ride.”
“Juniper, I—” he started, his voice shaky.
I held up my hand, cutting him off. “Don’t. I’m done with excuses, Maverick. Just save it.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, broken in more ways than one. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like the forgotten sibling. Gran had made sure of that.
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They received hate letters for being in love 50 years ago, but their interracial marriage is still going strong today.
Leslie Uggams is an actor who has a fascinating career in theater and movies.
The Harlem-born singer and actress has a remarkable seven-decade career, but her role in the Deadpool series has garnered the most attention.
However, her story might be the topic of a private film because her 1965 marriage to White Australian Grahame Pratt exceeded all expectations for an interracial couple.
Leslie, a gifted vocalist, recorded a song for MGM in 1953 at the age of ten. Soprano Eloise Uggams, her aunt, suggested that she enroll in the Professional Children’s School of New York and the esteemed Julliard School of Music in New York.
Though she had achieved success in music, her career was far from done; in 1969, she became the first Black person to anchor a network variety show since “The Nat King Cole Show,” when she hosted “The Leslie Uggams Show.”
But it was behind the scenes that she got to know and fell in love with actor Grahame Pratt. After meeting as pupils at Professional Children’s School in New York, the two met in Sydney on one of Leslie’s well-known tours in Australia.
Leslie knew the bad things that came with dating a white man because she had dated one in her childhood and her aunt had told her not to think about a future with him.
“I remember the shock I felt once when I was dating a white boy,” Leslie recalled to Ebony in 1967.
He e-mailed me a color photo of himself. It was shown to my aunt. He was a young, good-looking man with amazing hair. I thought he was really handsome. But my aunt just looked at me and began scolding. She said, “Well, I guess he’s alright, but only on dates, huh, honey?” You will marry a nice [Black] fella when you’re ready to settle down for good, won’t you?
Leslie stated that she continued to visit Grahame after their fortunate encounter.
“It was unexpected that I fell in love with him at the age of 21.”
After she left Australia, it would be a full year before she saw him again.
Despite her worries, Leslie and Grahame had fallen in love. Leslie was concerned about her family’s reaction and what would happen to them if Grahame had to travel to the US for work. Grahame visited her in New York after they had been engaged for five months.
“Knowing my family’s opinions on mixed marriages, I wanted to know if they would really accept Grahame and not just tolerate him,” the woman stated.
Leslie, on the other hand, didn’t have to worry because Grahame was Australian.
“He didn’t feel self-conscious about his circumstances, in contrast to many white Americans.” He fit in with my friends effortlessly since he liked them. And he was well-liked by both men and women.
Even though they didn’t face the same racial challenges as the rest of the country, Leslie claimed she got hate mail while living in New York as a result of their marriage.
Leslie stated about her marriage in an interview with PEOPLE, “It wasn’t as difficult as I anticipated.” “I believe it’s because Grahame wasn’t an American white man.” But of course, we received mail.
Leslie stated, “When I go on tour in the United States, I sometimes get anonymous letters about being married to a white man.” “I recall getting one in Detroit, of all places.” It was addressed to “The Little Negro Entertainer” when it arrived at the club. They are uncomfortable to read and are talked about in that manner a lot.
Grahame took up the role of manager for Leslie, and the couple had two daughters: Danielle in 1970 and Justice in 1976.
A year following the birth of their second child, in 1977, Leslie secured the main part in the miniseries “Roots.” She received an Emmy nomination for the series in which she played Kizzy.
Two years later, she played Lillian Rogers Parks in the miniseries “Backstairs at the White House,” for which she received an Emmy nomination in the Best Actress category.
Her hosting of the NBC game program “Fantasy” earned her a Daytime Emmy Award in 1983. She also as Rose Keefer on “All My Children” in 1996.
She has appeared in TV shows in her own right, including Magnum P.I., Hollywood Squares, The Muppet Show, Family Guy, and I Spy.
Leslie and Grahame are blissfully married after 55 years of marriage and have a granddaughter named Cassidy.
Leslie said of her happy marriage, “We have a lot of fun together, but it’s not always sunshine and roses.” When we’re together, we enjoy ourselves.
The love between these two has withstood the test of time and beyond all expectations. Because they have always supported one another and are loyal to one another, they encourage one another.
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