by David Harder
All three gravely nodded their heads in response.
Staci raised her hand as if she were a kid in school. Her voice was timid. “I have one.”
“Yes, what is it, Staci?”
“In Dad’s letter, he, like, said something about discovering his inner artist—or something like that. I don’t remember his exact words. Like, what did he mean?”
Stephanie and Robert shifted in their chairs. This question caught everyone’s attention. Tony smiled.
“It seems your father was a painter. The only person aware of this was your neighbor, Joe Langley.”
“School teacher, Uncle Joe, our old neighbor?” blurted Robert.
Tony continued to smile and nodded.
“Are we talking paint-by-numbers artist or something else?” asked Stephanie.
Staci sat upright and leaned forward. “Dad painted oils, watercolors, charcoal? Like what medium are we looking at, Mr. Toncetti?”
Standing, Tony indicated they should follow him. Resembling a bunch of grade school students on a field trip, the trio tagged behind Tony as he led them to a room in the back of the office complex. He held the door open and motioned for them to enter. The room was dark, but the moment Robert stepped into the blackness, a sensor detected movement, and the lights flickered on. The area was an empty room large enough for a small conference of one hundred people.
Surrounding the room’s walls were various paintings on stands. Above each painting, individual lights illuminated the canvases, displaying colorful images. The Kreider children stood dumbfounded, staring. Staci immediately walked around the room, examining the displayed images. She stopped in front of an impressionistic painting, which demonstrated artistic skills similar to Claude Monet.
Her clashing shadow juxtaposed the soft pastel colors of the painting. She reached out and gingerly let her fingers dance and caress the rough texture of the oils. When she turned to face the others, tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Do you, like, see it?”
Robert shrugged and shook his head, totally uninterested.
“That day in the park. I was so sick. Like, we went to the park, Dad said, to cheer me up.”
Stephanie walked alongside her sister and stared at the painting. “You’re right! Robert, come here. You remember that day, don’t you?”
After joining his sisters, Robert stood staring at the image. It was a typical impressionism with blurred colors, no distinct edges—as if the picture was out of focus or from a fading dream.
Staci traced out a dark patch of color. “That’s me, sitting by the river.” She moved her hand to the left. “Like, that’s you, Bobby, skipping stones across the water.” She moved her hand to the far right. “And see, this is Mom and Dad, and that’s you, Stephanie. Like, you guys were sitting on a blanket getting lunch ready. It was a beautiful day. We laughed, ate lunch, and . . . ” Staci’s voice trailed off.
Lifting the painting from the stand, Staci pulled the frame to her chest as if it were a precious child. She slowly slumped to the floor and began rocking.
“I miss you, Mommy and Daddy.” After a long pause, she looked up at Stephanie. “Like, you know, this just isn’t fair.”
Robert bent over and gingerly took the frame. “May I?”
Staci let go, and Robert set the painting back on the stand. He studied the image carefully. Then, as if an imaginary light bulb went on, he smiled.
“I remember now. I was maybe eight or nine years old. Dad packed our lunch and made us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
Staci smiled. “Yes, and you were, like, crazy that day. You took your sandwich apart and laid potato chips on the inside, then squished it all together.”
“I think I remember you asking me to do the same for you.”
“It sounded awful at the time, but it was really good.”
Robert’s face contorted. “Mom refused to eat and was mad because Dad didn’t fix something wholesome. They got into a serious argument over stupid sandwiches.”
Stephanie glumly added, “Yeah, Father Knows Best meets Mommy Dearest!”
Staci stood facing Tony. “May I keep this one, Mr. Toncetti?”
“Of course. In fact, all of the paintings belong to you three. You may do with them as you wish, but—” Tony paused to ensure he had their attention. “Would you mind if we displayed them at the funeral service? I think other people would like an opportunity to view them.”
It took only a moment for the Kreiders to quickly agree.
“I would like to add another request, if I may. The five people your father chose to speak have also requested an opportunity to purchase a painting. I’ve made no commitments but merely said I would make the request known. Before you answer, you must know that initially, Joe Langley volunteered the knowledge concerning the paintings because they were at his house.”
“Why at Uncle Joe’s?”
“Joe set up the studio for your father, bought the equipment and teaching material, and made sure your dad had a retreat.”
Staci cheerily responded, “Then he should get one.”
“Hold on a sec, freak.” Robert faced Tony. “Didn’t you say they were willing to buy the paintings?”
“That’s what I said, yes—”
“Robert Kreider, have you no shame?” Stephanie had her hands on her hips.
“Oh, knock it off, Stephanie. You’re not our mom. If the paintings have value, let them buy one.”
“Dude? Like, where is all this greed coming from?”
Tony stepped in to abate their arguing. “Please, please, listen to me. Take a day or two before you decide. Talk among yourselves, and, when you have a plan, let me know. This doesn’t require an immediate decision.”
Tony picked up a black, three-ring binder and extended his arm. “There are color photographs of all the paintings inside. We cataloged them. Take this back to your hotel and talk it over first.”
The Kreiders were in a somber mood as Tony escorted them to the elevator to say goodbye. He watched the doors quietly close.
* * *
When Tony returned to his office, he dialed his wife.
“Are you interested in another spa date, sweetie?”
Rachel paused. “Bad day, hon?”
Tony loudly sighed but didn’t answer.
“Same time and place?”
“I’ll get the Dom Pérignon.”
“I love you, Tony.”
“I know. And I love you, too. Bye for now.”
When Tony dialed the liquor store and made a second request for the chilled champagne, the owner was shocked.
“Twice in one week, huh? Does Mrs. Toncetti know about dis?” His thick Italian accent distorted the words.
“As a matter of fact, she does. It’s her favorite!”
“Whoa, Mr. Toncetti, you’ve gotta let me in on your secret.”
Tony snorted, “Stress, my friend— seasoned with loads of drama.”
* * *
For the next two days, Tony was relieved, appreciating the break from the Jim Kreider mess, when Shelly pensively stepped into his office. She waited. Tony looked up and smiled.
“Yes, Shelly?”
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Toncetti, but a Robert Kreider is on the phone asking for you. Are you in a meeting?”
Tony contemplated long and hard on the question, then sighed noisily. “Put him though, Shelly.”
“He’s holding on line one, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and Mr. Toncetti?”
After picking up the phone, Tony’s finger hovered above the keypad.
“You were right. The Kreider children didn’t match up when I met them in person— especially the youngest, Staci.”
Tony nodded in agreement.
As Shelly walked out, she closed Tony’s office door.
“Good afternoon, Robert.”
“Counselor. Please tell me you’re not allowing Staci’s teenage boyfriend to attend the funeral. Dad
would be livid if he knew.”
Tony’s patience was exhausted, and he showed no inclination to shelter Robert from his wrath, yet he tempered his comments. Tony’s voice was firm as he chastised Robert. “Listen very carefully to what I’m about to say, Robert. Are you listening?”
“Yes, sir,” sputtered Robert.
Tony knew he was about to tell a little lie, but he was tired and no longer wanting to deal with spoiled children who felt sanctimonious. “Your father was very specific concerning who would attend his funeral. Unless you can produce documentation to the contrary, I suggest you reconsider your position in this matter.”
Robert was quiet.
“Just as I suspected. I also know you telephoned your sister earlier and proposed this same argument, and I must tell you, Robert, I’m quite disappointed in your attitude. Please cease and desist. Otherwise, you’re bordering on destroying all respect I have for you and ruining our relationship. Besides, please understand that our firm controls the trusts for all three of you. It would be such a shame to have clerical errors delaying your payments or school tuition.”
“Tony? Are you threatening me?”
This time Tony went quiet, waiting for Robert to process the conversation.
“Well?”
Tony had to control himself. He was enjoying the situation too much. Tony spoke softly, with confidence.
“Robert?”
“What?”
“Stop being a jerk. What’s eating at you, son, because honestly, I don’t understand where your attitude is coming from?”
Robert was breathing hard into the phone, but not talking. He knew Tony was correct and could make his life miserable. Robert hated Marcus and what Staci was doing with her life. He held Marcus responsible for the condition Staci was living in.
Suddenly, Tony saw with clarity what was happening. He felt compassion for the confused young man.
“Robert, the pain of losing your father must be awful. You feel the responsibility to keep your small family together. But you cannot fill your dad’s shoes, nor can you fix any situations you deem unsuitable in your perfect little world.”
“So, you think this is about perfectionism?” Robert seethed.
“No, I think you’re overcompensating for the pain of your loss.”
Robert bit his lower lip and fought back the tears. Tony could hear him sniff into the phone.
“Listen to me carefully, Robert. You are not in charge, and this isn’t your funeral service or is it about you. It’s about your father, whom I respect. In fact, after hearing from the team your dad chose to represent him, I have even more respect for the man. So, do me a favor and drop your pretense.”
Robert groaned loudly. He attempted to defend his position from several perspectives, but with each start of a sentence, he quickly realized he was boxed into a corner. Like a chess game, when one opponent forces the other to yield, Robert suspected Tony was about to call out “checkmate.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I was surprised by Staci’s appearance as well; but as a lawyer, I’m taught to not judge a book by its cover. You must learn to do the same if you want to be a successful lawyer.”
It was a no-win situation, and Robert knew it. Reluctantly, he conceded Tony’s position.
“Okay, Counselor, you’re correct, and I was wrong.”
Tony could hear the resignation in Robert’s voice. “You mean that?”
“Yes. You win.”
“Robert, it’s not about winning. It’s about doing what is right. Hopefully, you’ll come to understand the sensitivity required for this whole situation regarding your father.”
“Well, I don’t, but I’m going to quit now.”
“We don’t always get our way, Robert. Sometimes we negotiate for the best possible solution, even if the results aren’t perfect.”
“So you say.”
After a period of silence, the line went dead as Robert disconnected the call.
Frustrated, Tony stared at the phone receiver in his hand. A flat tone was heard, but eventually, it gave way to a pulsating busy signal, followed by a monotone female voice making the usual declaration. Tony cradled the receiver, wondering if it would ever get easier.
* * *
The conference room of Toncetti, Silva, Barnes, and Smith was cramped and noisy early Friday afternoon. In addition to the five team members chosen to represent Jim Kreider at his funeral, the three Kreider children were now present. Tony requested his secretary, Shelly, join the group.
Various refreshments dotted the credenza, along with beverages; and when Tony entered the room, he could feel a shift in the mood. Everyone was casually chatting and intermingling, but Tony’s presence brought the group to an abrupt halt. The participants stared at Tony, waiting.
Tony hated that his position created such tension. He pushed his way toward the credenza, greeting folks and shaking hands. As soon as he started filling a china plate with food, the room immediately returned to its loud conversations.
The three Kreider children were comfortably mixing, and even Staci had dressed in casual attire. Her Mohawk hair was not spiked in its usual fashion but lay relaxed. Other than the tattoos and piercings, Staci appeared normal.
Setting his plate at the head of the conference table, Tony poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. Moments later, the various team members slowly threaded their way to their customary positions and sat down. Joe deliberately sat next to Dr. Nolan, leaving the far end of the conference table open for the Kreider children.
Stephanie selected the armed chair at the end where Joe Langley had initially sat during their meetings. Robert and Staci sat on either side of Stephanie. Slowly the room quieted, and Tony waited for a natural break to occur before addressing the group.
Wiping his mouth on a monogrammed, white, linen napkin, Tony took a moment to initiate eye contact with each person. “First off, I want to thank all of you for being here today. Your commitment to honor Jim Kreider is admirable. The work accomplished in this room was not an easy task. We’ve all experienced emotional upsets and challenges. Yet I believe we’ve also grown to understand each other and appreciate Jim Kreider better. Personally, I know I’ve learned more about the man than I ever knew and this was made possible because each of you has been honest and open. I can clearly see why Jim chose you to represent his life.
“As I’m sure most of you have already introduced yourselves to the three Kreiders, let me formally welcome Jim’s family. Stephanie.” Tony extended his hand to the far end of the conference table, and Stephanie nodded to the group. “Jim’s son, Robert,” who then raised his hand slightly. “And Staci.” She softly smiled at the group, looking nervous.
“Now, I’ll introduce the team—starting with Nate.” Tony extended his hand.
“Hello, I’m Nathanial Martin, vice president at Tynedex Corporation. Your father and I have worked together for nearly forty years. Please accept my condolences for your loss.”
“My name is Arleen Chenair, and I work for Chanel S.A. of France. I have known your father for almost thirty years. We met before, but I’m not sure if you remember. I can only imagine the sadness you must feel. James was a wonderful man. He will be terribly missed.”
Tony turned and faced Pastor Mike.
“You already know who I am. Oh my, look how much you three have grown. I’m sorry for your loss. Jim was a great father.” He turned and faced Tom.
“Of all the difficult tasks in this world, witnessing the death of a young father is monumental. Mere words cannot express my grief, much less yours. I pray the fond memories of your dad will sustain you during this time,” said Dr. Nolan. He looked to Joe.
“Hey guys, great to see you,” began Joe. “It’s been a long time. I just wanted to tell you how much your dad bragged about all three of you. Your dad loved you very much, and he was proud of you—yes, even you, Staci.”
“Thank you, Uncle Joe,” said Stephanie.
“Yes, thank you, Unc
le Joe, and all of you for your kind words,” agreed Robert.
“We’re really touched by your words. Thank you,” Staci mumbled.
“Excellent. Now, Stephanie has indicated she wishes to speak tomorrow, as well as Robert. Staci has declined.” Turning to his secretary, Tony said, “Shelly, if you please.”
She stood and began handing out a printed document.
“As Shelly hands out the papers, please note that this is a draft for Jim’s service tomorrow. We are open to discussions, suggestions, or changes. Please take a moment and look over the agenda.”
Dr. Nolan raised his hand slightly. “Tony, our pastor, Ken, has indicated he will introduce everyone and then give a closing prayer at the end of the service.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Doctor, I’d be honored to give the opening prayer,” Rev. Mike requested.
Tom smiled. “Excellent, Mike. That’s a splendid idea, and I’ll let Ken know.”
Shelly made notes concerning the changes.
“Okay, are there any other comments?”
The room was silent.
“How about any changes to the itinerary?”
Several individuals shook their heads.
Tony rubbed his flat palms together. “Excellent. This was supposed to be a draft, but it appears everyone has signed off carte blanche.”
“Excuse me, Tony.” This time Robert lifted his hand.
“Yes, Robert.”
He set the black, three-ring binder with the color copies of the paintings on the conference table. “I was thinking,” he glanced over at Stephanie and Staci for approvals. “What I mean is, we thought that if this group is interested in any of the paintings, they may like to let us know by—”
Staci interrupted. “We wanted individual paintings for ourselves. The rest, we put sticky notes on each picture with a number. Look through the book, and, if you’d like one of the paintings, put your name on the sticky note.”
Stephanie assumed the lead. “We all feel Uncle Joe should get to select his painting first. It’s a family thing.”
