“Why, thank you. Your mother’s health is so delicate, isn’t it? Perhaps she should not have attempted the trip.” Geraldine sipped her coffee and set a cup for Aggie on the coffee table.
“Yes, we’re very cautious of her health, but at a time like this, she would have worried about the children and the arrangements and everything if she would have stayed home.”
Geraldine gave an enigmatic smile and sipped her coffee. Aggie realized that, while Mr. Stuart was sitting in the room throughout her parent’s visit, she hadn’t heard him speak or be spoken to. “Mr. Stuart, would you like a cup of coffee? You are welcome to mine; I can’t drink and hold little Mr. Squirmy here.”
Douglas Stuart shook his head as he flipped through papers in a briefcase on his lap. “Thank you, Aggie, but I am fine. Do you need Vanora to come in and take him? I am sure she would be happy to.” The man smiled as he started to rise to get the girl.
“No, thank you. I have only seen Ian once. I’m enjoying him.” Aggie laughed at the baby’s antics.
“Aggie, I am thinking that if it’s convenient for you, I would like to invite you to stay here tonight. With my sleeping pills, I don’t know if I’ll hear the baby should he awake. I think Vanora had to get up with him several times last night. He is,” her voice lowered with affected discretion, “unused to drinking from bottles.”
“Well, Allie nursed him exclusively I presume. She did the others.” Poor baby, no wonder he’d been so hungry. It was obvious that he had been refusing the bottle most of last night.
“Would you mind holding him, Mrs. Stuart? I think that he might still be hungry. He seems to be seeking something, but I’m afraid my plumbing won’t help him. The works aren’t turned on yet.” Aggie tried to joke as she handed the baby to his grandmother, but she realized, too late, that she’d only managed to offend the proper woman. Talking about bodily functions, even something as natural as feeding a baby, was probably a huge social faux pas.
Aggie carefully read the instructions on the little baggie box and the can of formula. Hoping she was getting the water warm enough and the formula shook up well, Aggie mixed her first bottle. She had no idea that this would be the first of many. Shaking vigorously, she squirted the mixture on her wrist. It was warm but didn’t hurt. She hoped that was the goal. One sniff killed the fleeting notion of taste testing it. The “milk” smelled vile. “How do babies drink this stuff?”
Monday, February 18th
The next two days followed a similar pattern. Geraldine sat on her “throne,” directing everyone’s moves in expressionless grief. One of the first things she did was to send Aggie shopping for funeral dresses for the little girls. “‘Nautical would be lovely, Agathena. A true navy looks black, you know, but it’s not quite so stark on a child. The children must look their best,’” Aggie muttered to herself as she headed through yet another upscale boutique on Geraldine’s list. Seeing the prices, Aggie was glad that Geraldine had insisted she take along the Stuart’s credit card.
She found a rack of gorgeous dresses. The color was perfect and the style was impeccable. They carried the dresses in every size she needed, but at over one hundred dollars per dress, Aggie was in sticker shock. After looking further, she found a clearance rack with similar dresses and debated within herself. The first dresses were gorgeous; however, the discounted dresses were also very nice and appropriate. Hearing Geraldine’s voice in her head, Aggie returned to the first rack and picked out the proper sizes.
Before she could pay for the dresses, Aggie heard her purse ringing. “What now?” she muttered to herself as she flipped open her phone.
“Agathena, I have been looking at the boys’ clothing, and they also have nothing appropriate. Do you have a pen and paper handy? I have measurements for you…” Aggie grabbed a shopping bag from the rack behind the customer counter and began taking notes. Geraldine was now sending her in search of suits for the boys. Three piece suits, white shirts, and red ties. Aggie wondered why red ties were so important, but she returned to her now expanded shopping excursion. Aggie learned to despise shopping that afternoon.
Tuesday, February 19th
The day of the funeral dawned in typical storybook fashion. The sky was gray and drizzled in sporadic spurts. The snow that had been so pretty and picturesque was now slushy, dirty, mush. The children were squeaky clean in their somber navy clothing with the little touch of red on the boys. They all had a white rose on their collars and lapels and had strict instructions as to when to remove them and place them on the double casket.
Geraldine had wanted a military funeral, in memory of her son’s short stint in the navy, but the ever-organized Allie had even planned their funerals. It was to be informal, which chafed Geraldine’s need for being “correct” in form. The couple’s wishes were honored, and songs of praise and rejoicing were sung about entering heaven, while anyone who wanted to could say something in remembrance of Douglas and Allie.
Wednesday, February 20th
Aggie left the law office of Moss and Younger with a stack of papers and in complete shock. Still in the offices, a very upset Geraldine argued with the lawyer. Aggie’s parents, the only ones not surprised at the contents of Doug and Allie’s will, had left nearly an hour earlier. Seated on a bench at a bus stop, she waited for her taxi to arrive. “Guardianship. Of eight children. I’m only twenty-two! What was she thinking?”
“What?” Aggie hadn’t noticed the elderly woman sitting on the bench next to her.
“Hello. I’m sorry; I was talking to myself.” Aggie opened the manila folder and flipped through the pages.
“Did you say you were guardian of eight children?” The woman was pleasant but curious.
“Yes. My sister died last week. She had my name on the title to the house to avoid probate problems, she had signed and notarized temporary guardianship papers-- the works. Power of attorney for the estate… and I’m beneficiary of a very large life insurance policy. What possessed her to give me this responsibility?” The fact that she was dumping her shock on a stranger didn’t even register.
“Do you have parents that can help you?”
“My mother has a serious heart condition. She can’t handle stress or excitement for long. There is no way she could help. I expected that Allie would leave the children to her mother-in-law, but I have a letter to read from them that should explain why they didn’t.”
“Are you ready for this? It’s quite a responsibility. What about your plans for your life.”
She didn’t know it yet, but the woman’s question would become one she heard repeatedly over the coming months. “You know what? I prayed years ago that if I was going to make a decision for my life that was wrong for me, that God would radically change my direction. It appears that He has. I think my dreams must have been just that. Dreams. I don’t want them if they’re not what He wants for me, now do I?” Aggie realized that her words to the woman were really just a self-pep talk. She turned to look at her companion, but the woman just smiled, stood, and walked away.
Aggie reached her hotel room and flipped through the papers, while carefully avoiding Doug’s letter. Eventually, she gathered her emotions and opened the letter.
November 11
Dearest Naggie Aggie,
Well, I won’t be calling you that again this side of Glory, but never fear, if Jesus will let me continue on the other side, I won’t callously drop your special name. I know how sorry you would be to lose it.
I know you are wondering why I left you the responsibility of our children, and I want to share the story with you so that you will understand and fight for them like no one else can.
My mother was born on what she would call the “wrong side of the tracks.” Her father left the family when she was an infant, and she grew up in an era where the combination of a working mother, bad neighborhood, and no father meant that she was essentially a social outcast. By high school, she vowed never to live alone or in poverty again. Just picture her as a twenti
eth century Scarlett O’Hara.
Upon graduation, she researched businesses, found a position with Delta Advertising, and worked her way to secretary of the most up and coming vice president in the building. I know it sounds like a pathetic B movie, but it’s the truth. Before that vice president knew what hit him, they were married. Enter, Douglass Stuart, nephew of Weston Lyman, Rockland’s great advertising mogul. He had everything she was looking for. Family connections-- boy that sounds like something from 19th century England-- money, and social status were her ticket to never being hurt, poor or alone again.
My father quickly learned that my mother was determined to control every aspect of their lives in order to accomplish her purposes. Now don’t get me wrong, Aggie, Dad and I love Mother. What she does is always because of her love for us, and her fear of the past repeating itself.
Aggie, I cannot allow her to try to raise my children. She would be determined to control the children’s lives the same way she’s controlled my father and me. Though she puts all her time and energy into controlling the family, she’s lazy, Aggie. She doesn’t believe she should have to work. Can you imagine how much of the burden of the children’s care would be left to Vannie and Laird? The children would feel like they’d already raised a family before they graduated from high school. The baby would be neglected. I know it’s a lot to ask, Aggie, but the children need someone young enough to have the time and energy for them.
She’ll smother the children. You know that we’ve tried to shelter our children as much as possible, but she will completely smother them. They will be sent to the doctor for the slightest sniffle. If they want to have a friend over, there will always be an excuse not to do it “just this time.” If they want to learn the piano, she’ll send them to lessons daily and insist that they practice three times a day. She’ll send them to boarding schools and then bring them home days later. She professes love for the children, and she does love them in her way, but they will be alternately smothered and then neglected. I know I keep using the word smother but it’s the one that really fits.
Aggie, imagine a life where you must constantly keep up appearances. The family must appear to be the epitome of taste, education, and class. There can never be a mistake. If you drop a spoon at the dinner table, it is equivalent to dropping a bowl of hot food into the president’s lap. If you have the nerve to sneeze inappropriately, it’s a crisis.
Making our home perfect was hard enough with just me, can you imagine how tormented everyone would be with eight? We can’t have a meal, without milk spilling, or a child opening their mouth while chewing, or needing to be reminded to say, “excuse me” after a burp. The whole mental picture is enough to ensure a mental breakdown for everyone involved. I can’t do that to the children.
Aggie, my childhood is a long series of different schools, psychologists, medical appointments, vacations, cancelled parties, and ostentatious displays. She didn’t know how to relate to a child. Whenever I showed a preference for cartoons over Shakespeare or French fries over caviar, I was packed off for yet another evaluation.
Emotions are forbidden in her home. If there is a problem, you don’t talk it out, work it out, or forgive. Instead, you pretend that it’s not there and hold a grudge about it. Forever. I am not exaggerating. If you want to test me on this, just mention the cabin up at the lake. I guarantee you’ll hear about how, when I was eight, I dropped a frog inside her swimsuit, and she “couldn’t sleep for a week in fear of what else that boy might do.”
You cannot imagine the guilt-driven manipulation. If they don’t say “I love you” every day, several times a day, she’ll be hurt. If they do something wrong, she’ll bury them in guilt on how they’ve hurt her until they beg for forgiveness, and then she’ll smother them with things. They’ll be the world’s most spoiled, immature children ever. She will try to buy their affection, and you know what that does to children.
Aggie, please understand what we are asking you to do, so you’ll never doubt if the decision you make is correct. Do not let our children EVER be alone with her. Do not let them spend the night, go shopping, or even speak for a long time on the phone with her. We have made it quite clear in our documentation to the courts (my six inches of medical records with only four pages since the day I graduated from college will help, I am sure) that we would rather the children be sent to foster care than to be given to her.
Honestly, I don’t know how she will respond. She may take it as relief but feel it’s her duty to care for them. She may give a token fight and then leave you alone. I don’t think so, though. I have almost been her life since I was born. With me gone, and Dad still in his own world, she will probably latch onto them harder than ever. Be careful, Aggie. All I know for certain is that with mother, there are no certainties.
Thank you, Aggie. I know I can thank you in advance, because I know you. You’ll handle this beautifully. The children love you, and with your training at college you should be ready for a challenge like this. You’ll be graduating soon. I hope you don’t have to quit your dream job or anything like that.
We forgot to update this letter after the twins. I pray that you never have to read it. I have written three since you turned eighteen, and each time, I hope I can convey how seriously I want you to take my warnings and how thankful I am that I have a little sister whom I can entrust my children to. I love my mother, Aggie. I love my children. I love you, and I pray that you will find fulfillment in this new step in your life and that you never resent us for putting you in this position. Love, teach and train our children. Enjoy them. Weave their lives into yours; don’t just enter theirs.
Waiting on the other side,
Douglas
Aggie sighed as she finished the letter. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she found herself crying as much for Geraldine Stuart as she did for the loss of her family. She recalled the reading of the will with perfect clarity. It appeared that every time a purchase over five hundred dollars was acquired, it was immediately assigned ownership to Aggie, her parents, one of the children or Doug’s parents. Aggie would be responsible for passing out these things or holding them in trust for the children.
Aggie was in shock to see how much was entrusted to her. She had no idea that Allie and Doug had such wealth. There were two insurance policies that both listed Aggie as the secondary beneficiary. There were investments that had to be controlled, and all of the bank accounts, including several CDs, had her name on them in order to avoid trouble with the transfer of property.
As she picked up the papers and put them back in the folder, Aggie spied a note on Mr. Moss’ letterhead that she’d overlooked.
Aggie,
At the request of Doug and Allie, I hired a locksmith to change the locks on their home while we had our meeting this morning. They wanted to be certain that Mrs. Stuart could not lock you out of the home. The locksmith will leave the key at the front desk of your hotel as soon as he has finished.
If you have any questions, or if I can assist you in any way, please don’t hesitate to call me at home or at the office.
Respectfully,
Robert Moss, Attorney at Law
Aggie called down to the front desk and learned that the key was indeed waiting for her. She phoned the law office and found that Geraldine was still in conference with the lawyers. Reluctantly, she decided that perhaps it would be better to go now, get inside the house, and talk to the children before Mrs. Stuart arrived.
At the house, Aggie found bedlam. The children sobbed nearly uncontrollably, the baby screamed, and Vannie was visibly distraught, trying to keep everyone calm. It took Aggie a while to comfort everyone, and reheat one of the many casseroles in the kitchen for the children’s dinner. As she worked, she discovered that Geraldine had not hired a sitter to watch the children and had left them alone during the afternoon meeting with the lawyers. Aggie’s face showed her anger, and at first, poor Vannie thought she was in trouble.
“I’m so sorry. I really tr
ied. When no one came back right away, Kenzie flipped. She was sure that you and Grandmother were dead too--”
“Vannie, honey, this is not your fault. You did nothing wrong. I had no idea that you would be left here alone. I don’t think your grandmother was thinking clearly. She must be hurting more than she lets on.” Aggie prayed that she was telling the truth, but Doug’s words in the letter she’d just read troubled her. “Can you imagine how much of the burden of the children’s care would be left to Vannie and Laird?” Oh, how was she to know what to do or what to say?
Aggie led the children into the living room and sat them all down. “Well, guys, it looks like we are going to be together for a long time.”
The children looked at her with huge questions in their eyes and hearts. Vannie started to speak, but Aggie didn’t notice and continued. “You see, your parents worked things out with the lawyers and the courts and everything, so that I would be the one to take care of you from now on. I’m not going to try to be your mom. We are so different, that I couldn’t if I wanted to. But, I promise you guys; I will do everything I can to be the best Aunt Aggie I can be.”
Before Aggie could continue, the doorbell blared. Looking out of the window, Aggie found that Geraldine was there already. She glanced around frantically and then said, “Vannie. I need your help. Please take everyone downstairs and stay there-- no matter what happens. Take a bottle for the baby, just in case this takes a while. Laird, I really need you to help her.”
The children nodded somberly and trooped downstairs like little soldiers. It was incredible how quickly they had adapted to Geraldine’s expectations and terrible to see them so nervous. She hated to put so much on Vannie again so quickly but honestly didn’t know how to avoid it.
Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance) Page 8
