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Back The Great Pretenders
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for The Great Pretenders
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. PART I
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. PART II
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. PART III
  25. Chapter Eighteen
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. Chapter Twenty-one
  29. Chapter Twenty-two
  30. Chapter Twenty-three
  31. Chapter Twenty-four
  32. Chapter Twenty-five
  33. Chapter Twenty-six
  34. PART IV
  35. Chapter Twenty-seven
  36. Chapter Twenty-eight
  37. Chapter Twenty-nine
  38. Chapter Thirty
  39. Chapter Thirty-one
  40. Chapter Thirty-two
  41. Chapter Thirty-three
  42. Chapter Thirty-four
  43. Chapter Thirty-five
  44. PART V
  45. Chapter Thirty-six
  46. Chapter Thirty-seven
  47. Chapter Thirty-eight
  48. Chapter Thirty-nine
  49. Chapter Forty
  50. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  51. Readers Guide
  52. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  53. Acknowledgments
  54. About the Author
  55. What’s next onyour reading list?

Mr. Wilkie quickly wrapped up the list of those jointly held items, concluding, “Those properties are not under discussion. Today we are allocating Mrs. Greene’s personal estate.” According to the wishes expressed in her will, the first bequest was the furniture and antiques in the Parc Monceau apartment in Paris, and the Matisse on the wall there. Those she left to Jerrold Davies “to help finance his next picture,” said Mr. Wilkie, reading from the document. He said he would contact Mr. Davies in Paris.

I stifled a smile. From the grave Julia was poking Leon in the eye again. However, Leon kept his gaze on a fly buzzing near the Venetian blinds. But when the next item was read—a big fat bequest to the NAACP—Leon and all the arts people drew a great, collectively horrified breath and stared at the Negroes. Leon coughed repeatedly, like he might choke. Gordon turned to him, murmuring something to the effect of Did you know . . . but Leon ignored him and turned to me, muttering the same question. No, I shook my head, and whispered, “Honest. I had no idea.” And honest, I didn’t. Julia did not share Leon’s staunch anti-Communist ideals, but the NAACP? That was shocking!

The man in the wheelchair introduced himself as August Branch. He was bald with a round face and round body, and wore a bow tie. His voice had a Southern lilt as he thanked Mr. Wilkie and spoke at length of Julia’s generosity over the years. If he noticed that Leon flinched, he gave no indication. “Mrs. Greene’s long support for our Cause has been invaluable. On behalf of the NAACP and speaking as editor of the Challenger, I want to assure you that her generous contribution today will help racial equality prevail.” The young man beside him leaned in and murmured in a low voice. Mr. Branch nodded. “Thank you, Terrence. Ladies and gentlemen, I am reminded that we have editorial deadlines to meet, and I’m afraid we must leave. The press waits for no man.”

As he and his whole delegation rose and left, they each offered somber condolences to Leon. Leon nodded grimly. No one shook hands.