“Beats me. I don't know what the kids are doing these days. Why don't you ask them? I happened to see them talking a few times in the hall this week whenever she made it home,” Eustacia noted with disdain. “That girl comes and goes more than my hot flashes. Well, when I had hot flashes. Now I have lukewarm ones followed by these dang constant shakes. It's like my battery is dying or something.”
If we couldn't track down any revised copies of Gwendolyn's will, then Eustacia and Finnigan would have to proceed with the one he had on file. Maybe Lilly thought she was getting the money from her mother who was set to inherit a lot of cash upon Gwendolyn's death. I ignored Eustacia's random musings about her body temperature since I didn't want to have mind-damaging nightmares that evening. “How about Sam? Do you know much about him? He always seems flustered whenever I run into him,” I asked Eustacia. “Even just now, he dropped something and acted odd when I tried to pick it up.
“Could it have been his web pen?” Eustacia asked. I could hear in the background Bertha advising that dinner was being served. “The kid can't eat anything without blowing up.”
Web pen. Blowing up. What was she talking about? “Huh, is Sam sick?” I asked remembering back to the first time I'd see him holding something in his pocket. Did she mean an epi pen? Whatever he had that day would've been the same size and shape. Could he be carrying around medicine in case his body went into anaphylactic shock?
“I guess you could say that. He's allergic to a lot of things, so he's gotta carry that doohickey around to stab himself if he can't breathe or he passes out,” Eustacia noted before telling me she had to hang up. “Sam's always been a nervous child. He's the gentlest and most respectful kid I've ever met, but he's secretive. He's vague whenever you ask him direct questions. I'm not sure what it's about, but it's probably because he was always afraid of getting sick.”
Chapter 14
Several minutes after returning from a run the next morning, I found a note from my parents indicating they'd gone to Sunday mass and planned to meet some friends for brunch. I'd just peeled out of my sweaty gym clothes and turned the shower on when the house phone rang. I looked at the caller id noticing my brother, Hampton, was calling. Other than a few summers and major holidays, we'd spent little time together as adults. He'd grown more conservative and closed-minded once he connected with his wife's oil tycoon father and focused on building his own empire.
“Howdy! How's my favorite hampster doing?” I teased answering the phone. When we were young kids, my brother had brought home his class pet, Houdini, to care for it over a long holiday weekend, but the hamster went missing. While feeling sad and embarrassed at losing the school pet, my brother collected his laundry to give to the cleaning lady before we left for school. As she bent down to lift the basket, the furry creature popped his head out of the laundry pile scaring the poor woman into quitting. Knowing Hampton was going to collect the laundry, I neglected to tell him that I'd found his school pet and instead, I placed Houdini underneath the top layer of clothes a few minutes before the cleaning lady picked up the pile. To this day, Hampton still didn't know what I'd done. If I told him, I wouldn't be able to use his hated nickname, The Hampster, anymore.
“I see you're still as childish as ever, Kellan. I guess I couldn't expect you to grow up knowing you're still sponging off Mom and Dad by living at home,” Hampton scoffed on the phone.
“I'm here temporarily while I decide what to do. I haven't sold my house in LA and am considering renting it for a year. I think that's a fairly astute thing to do, ya know?” I tried to appeal to his cheap side by highlighting an opportunity to be fiscally responsible.
“Let's have this conversation again in a few months to see if anything's changed,” he replied. Hampton constantly told everyone about his 401Ks, pensions, IRAs, bonuses, summer home on the Maryland shore, and anything else that clearly demonstrated how well-off he was. “How's that teacher's salary working out for you?”
“I'm sure you'd be pleased to know I negotiated a nice package for myself. I'm really working two jobs by helping develop the program to expand Braxton,” I noted feeling proud at myself for simply stating the facts rather than going after him for his less-than-kind attitude.
“No doubt because of something Dad pulled to make that happen, I'm sure. Is he around?”
I wasn't sure why I even tried to impress my brother. It was a losing battle no matter what path I took. “No, they're at brunch with friends. May I ask you a legal question?” I leaned against the bathroom wall watching the steam build up around me, perhaps inside of me as well.
“I suppose I can give you one free consultation. Are you about to be arrested for something? I'm not as familiar with criminal law as I am corporate and business law.” Hampton sighed, then laughed when he finished speaking.
“Estates and inheritances are what I need to know more about. I'm helping one of Nana D's friends who passed away recently. Do you remember Gwendolyn Paddington?”
“You're helping her? The Paddingtons are well-off. I'm sure they have plenty of attorneys to handle it, Kellan. Why are you inserting yourself into a situation where you have zero qualifications? Mom could handle it better than you would. Or Nana D.”
“Quit being so sarcastic. I haven't said a single thing to you on this call to deserve your ruthless jibes. Talk about not ever growing up, big brother.”
“Fine. What do you need to know?” he asked. I couldn't be sure if he genuinely wanted to help or preferred to hang up as quickly as possible.
I explained the situation about the missing will and noted I was still uncertain if it even existed.
He replied, “It's completely legal if Finnigan drew up the will and a few names were handwritten in the proper places. Assuming it's been signed by two parties who aren't named as beneficiaries, and it's dated after the previously written will, the new one would be upheld in any court in Pennsylvania.”
I made a throaty noise that indicated I agreed. “I'm concerned someone's holding on to it until the funeral is finished, then he or she will claim they mysteriously found it.”
“Have you asked around? Maybe one of the staff members at the Paddington estate served as a witness. It's likely no one in the family acted as a witness, assuming Gwendolyn left her money to the family. Witnesses should be disinterested parties.”
The Hampster made a solid point. The staff might not have thought it was their business to disclose anything, or they believed the will was being handled already with the lawyers. “Speaking of family, Eleanor and I were talking the other day. Neither of us have heard from Gabriel. Have you?”
“Nope. As far as I'm concerned, he abandoned this family when he took off years ago. If Gabriel doesn't want to stay in contact with us, then I've no desire to waste any time thinking about him.”
Ah, the brother I knew had returned after letting down his guard for just a few minutes. “I heard you had some news recently. Are you ready to share it with me?” Eleanor was convinced his wife was pregnant again. I thought it was something bigger.
“That's why I was calling Dad. I suppose I can tell you, but please let me be the one to tell him when he returns my call. You will let him know that I called, right, Kellan?”
“Of course. What's going on?” I asked hoping it was something positive. As much as I enjoyed teasing him, I wished only the best for my brother. We may not have much in common anymore, but with Gabriel gone and Penelope living in New York, we were losing siblings left and right.
“Natasha's expecting a fourth child this summer. We've also decided to move back home to Pennsylvania. Her father has located a new well up near the Betscha mines he thinks might be lucrative. He wants me to help him run the operations side of the business this time. I think he's considering leaving his companies to Natasha and me rather than his son who doesn't seem interested. Or competent. It'd be almost as bad as if he'd given them to you.”
After I hung up with Hampton, I finished showering and dressing f
or my third visit to a funeral home in the last several weeks. Nana D called as I climbed into the SUV to let me know she'd dropped Emma off with Eleanor at the Pick-Me-Up Diner. Eleanor had agreed to watch Emma as she needed to stay at the diner while the electrician finished all the work in her kitchen. She planned to have Emma help her decide the final menu with Chef Manny. They'd kept many of the original dishes, but Eleanor wanted the new diner to reflect her personality as well as the history of the beloved eatery. Knowing Eleanor's love of astrology, I pictured new dishes with names like “Random Luck Fish” and “Crystal Ball Pancakes.”
I arrived at the Wharton Whispering Pines funeral home ten minutes later. There were only two funeral homes in all of Wharton County, and for some reason, all three recent funerals had been held at this one. I entered the building and greeted the director, Lydia Nutberry, a third-generation mortician, who recognized me by now. “Room three down the hall, same as last time, Kellan,” she said.
Although Gwendolyn was well-known in Braxton, the family decided to keep the service private. A separate memorial would be held the following week at Paddington Enterprises for any staff or colleagues who'd known Gwendolyn, and there would be a similar one for her at Paddington's Play House at the end of the King Lear production for any of her fellow theater comrades. I'd emailed Myriam suggesting we have a special dedication to Gwendolyn at the opening performance and was pleasantly surprised when she supported the idea.
Since today's service at the funeral parlor was an invitation-only event, Eustacia and the rest of the family had made a specific list of who could attend. Exceptions were cleared only through Ophelia who'd deemed it her right to limit the guest list. While it seemed peculiar at first, Nana D pointed out that people in Braxton often went to funerals just to hear idle gossip and consume free coffee and desserts. Given there were two separate services being held to allow friends and others to properly grieve, I kept my mouth shut. It might also be easier for me to observe the family's movements and reactions to one another once they were all finally in a room together.
After a quick discussion with Lindsey, Millard, Eustacia, and Nana D, I scanned the room to get a feel for who'd already arrived. Dana spoke with her mother in a corner near the back of the room. There was an older man with them, but I didn't recognize him. It might have been Richard Taft, Ophelia's husband and Dana's father. He had his arm around Dana in a parental-sort-of way. Gray hair was closely cropped to the side and top of his head, and he wore a pair of silver, wire-framed glasses. He wasn't particularly tall and had a few extra pounds in his gut area. He nodded at Lilly when she started walking away from Jennifer and toward me.
“You're Kellan, right?” she said with her nose held high up in the air. She wore a respectable yet on-trend, dark gray dress with her shoulders and arms covered by poufy sleeves. Lilly's shiny black hair was tightly pulled across her scalp in a French braid and fastened against the back of her head. She crossed her arms together and said, “I hear you've been around the manse lately, asking a lot of q's about me. What gives?”
Who'd said that? I suppose Marcus Stanton could've mentioned I inquired about her. I doubted very much Eustacia or Millard had said anything. Perhaps Sam or Dana, maybe even Jennifer, had brought up my name. I didn't think I'd talked to Brad about her, but all the conversations were starting to blur together given the number of adversarial and unclear relationships among the Paddingtons.
“Oh, really? I must have indicated I hadn't found a chance to speak with you after your grandmother passed away. Please accept my condolences on her loss,” I said with a brief dip of my head in her direction.
“Yeah, thanks. So, I'm used to people talking about me. I'm usually at the center of things. You've found me now. What is it you want to know?” Lilly shifted her weight as if she'd been compelled to listen to me for some miniscule amount of time but wanted to be anywhere else.
“I don't think there's anything specific I wanted to know. Since I'm spending so much time with your family and representing them at the Play House, it seemed appropriate to learn a little more about everyone,” I noted while watching the man who'd been standing with Ophelia and Dana kiss them both on the cheek, then take off toward the exit. “Would you know who that gentlemen is?” I said pointing toward the gray-haired man I suspected was Richard Taft.
“Shouldn't you have figured that out already? I mean, if you're going to be our representative at the Play House, whatever that actually includes, you need to get with the program, Kellan. I can't see what Aunt Eustacia sees in you if you're this unaware of the family members.” Lilly huffed loudly and walked toward the table to pour herself a cup of tea.
I followed her. “I assume it's your father, but I've only been acquainted with your family for the last few days. He hasn't been around as far as I can tell, has he, Lilly?” I tried to be as polite as possible so I didn't isolate a potential lead, but the girl spewed venom like her mother and grandmother. Nastiness or uncivil attitudes definitely ran in the family.
“Yes, that's Daddy. He travels for work, but not much longer. If you haven't heard, he's going to be the new head of the family company.” Lilly looked pleased with herself, obviously a daddy's girl. Could this be where she thought she'd find the money to launch her new business?
“Oh, Eustacia hadn't mentioned it to me, yet. I suppose that's a good thing for your family. I had been under the impression your Uncle Timothy was only on a temporary leave of absence from Paddington Enterprises.”
“That drugged-out loser? Ugh, please. Yesterday's news.” When Lilly poured milk into her tea, it spilled on the table. Before walking away, she said to me, “Get that, will you, love?”
I wiped up the mess laughing to myself about her lack of manners and impertinent countenance. When I caught up with her, she was looking around before zeroing in on Brad as he entered the room.
“I understand you and Brad are friendly,” I said hoping to stir a reaction.
“I'm not sure that's any of your business. If you've nothing else to ask me, then I think we're done here,” Lilly said waving her hand at me. Before she stepped away, she turned and handed me her paper cup. “That goes in the trash, if you don't mind, love.”
I accepted the cup but gently held onto her wrist for a moment. “Oh, certainly. I don't mind at all, but we're clearly not finished, love. Tell me more about this little project you're trying to find investors for.” I'd previously dealt with many girls like her in LA. If you let them walk all over you, they always did. Sometimes you had to push back even if it meant risking the relationship or your opportunity to find answers.
“It's not a little project. I have a brilliant team ready to execute solid marketing plans and unique approaches to better sell products and services. I'm the queen of social media, and this is going to be huge when it gets rolling,” Lilly replied flicking my hand off her wrist. “I'll thank you not to paw at me.”
“My apologies, I only intended to continue our conversation, not to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm fascinated by the science behind advertising data and research. I take it you've found some investors?” I said with a fake smile.
“Not exactly, but I'll either be coming into some money soon, or my father has offered to have Paddington Enterprises fund the entire launch. My mother was unwilling to help until he stepped back into our lives. She's quite useless when it comes to any sort of business matters. I know enough not to end up like her. I'm surprised she hadn't tried to knock off Grandmother before now.” Lilly blinked several times, then walked away displaying exorbitant and unwarranted pride in herself.
I stood in silence reflecting on Lilly's ill-mannered behavior when I was interrupted. “What did my daughter want with you?” a shrill voice said behind me. I grimaced when I turned around as Ophelia stared at me with panicked eyes and pursed lips. “And don't give me the run-around, I know all about the questions you've been asking the rest of the family. My son, Sam, mentioned you'd been harassing him several times throughout
the last week.”
“First of all, I certainly wasn't harassing your son. We ran into one another while out on a run near the Wharton mountains, then again in the Grey Sports Field parking lot. He was tense and upset over losing his grandmother. I shared my own history losing a loved one hoping to comfort the kid.”
“I'll suggest you leave my family alone. I'm not sure why Aunt Eustacia insisted you be given full access to the estate and the Play House, but that will all change soon when the will is read and I'm responsible for things going forward,” Ophelia noted looking more and more like Cruella deVil. “In the meantime, if you have any questions about my family, you can direct them to me. Leave Sam, Dana, and Lilly alone. They're quite young and haven't a clear understanding of what's going on here. They don't know someone might have tampered with my mother's medication, nor do they need to know anything about it. Am I clear?”
What was with the Paddington family? They'd all made me their whipping boy in lieu of learning how to have a civil conversation with a normal person. “My only intention is to help Eustacia understand what happened to Gwendolyn in the last few weeks. She was getting sicker, and no one did anything to remedy it nor did they realize what was going on in the background. But the fact remains, someone switched her heart medication with placebos, then overdosed her with cocaine.”
“All you're doing is restating the supposed facts. I've had enough of it from that invasive sheriff,” Ophelia replied while fixing a stray hair that had come lose from her perfectly styled coiffure.
“Pardon my saying so, Ophelia, but few people in the family seem concerned about who might have tinkered with your mother's medication. Everyone's more interested in having the will read and moving on from the whole ordeal. What if it's your sister or one of your children? Or do you already know who it is?” I assumed it would be controversial to suggest such a theory, but at that point, the only way to combat the derisive lashings I'd been receiving was to return fire. I didn't like being cruel, but I'd been backed into a corner.
Broken Heart Attack Page 16
