Previously Loved Treasures

by Bette Lee Crosby

  Will or Will Not

  After Ida’s funeral a gloom settled over the house, a gloom bigger and darker than was imaginable. The residents no longer gathered for meals. Instead they sat in mournful little groups and occasionally nibbled on the leftovers from a week earlier, funeral food brought to the door and delivered along with condolences. The lone exception was Max Sweetwater. He wore a smug look of contentment and from time to time could be heard whistling a merry tune.

  Caroline paid little attention to Max and seldom left her room. The novel she had been working on was forgotten, and the computer screen remained dark. Days earlier she had been overflowing with the joy of life but she was now little more than a shadow, a dark shape that moved solemnly through the hallway, going from the bedroom to the bathroom and then back to the bedroom without ever speaking.

  After three days had passed, Wilbur, who’d come to care for Caroline as he cared for Ida, grew concerned. That morning he brewed a pot of coffee and knocked on her door with a mug in his hand. She opened the door, accepted the coffee, then left it to sit and grow cold.

  That day and another one passed, but Caroline remained in her room. Wilbur sat in the parlor and waited to hear her door squeak open, but it didn’t happen. As evening approached he set aside the newspaper he’d feigned reading, walked up the stairs, and rapped on Caroline’s door.

  When there was no answer, he rattled the doorknob and said, “We’ve got to talk.”

  “I don’t feel up to talking.” Caroline sniffled.

  “I know you don’t,” Wilbur replied. “But this is about your grandma.”

  It was the one and perhaps only reason that could pull Caroline from her bed. She cracked open the door and said, “What about Grandma?”

  Without waiting for an invitation, Wilbur pushed open the door and wrapped his arms around Caroline. “This has got to stop. Your grandma wanted you to be happy. It would break her heart to see you acting this way.”

  Caroline stepped back and lowered her eyes shamefully. “I can’t help how I feel.”

  “Do you think your feelings are more important than your grandma’s?”

  It would have been better to be scolded. Caroline could have stood there and taken it then curled herself under the blankets and continued to cry. Instead he’d challenged the loyalty of her love.

  “Of course I don’t,” she replied.

  “Your grandma was mighty proud of this house,” he said. “It was the one thing she had to give you. And now here you are—”

  “The one thing she had to give me?”

  “Yes,” Wilbur answered. “A few weeks back Ida told me she’d made up a will leaving the house and everything she owned to you.”

  Tears filled Caroline’s eyes but she didn’t speak.

  “Ida wanted you to be happy here.” Wilbur’s words were soft and tender. “Don’t you think you could try to do that for her?”

  For a long moment Caroline said nothing. The tears overflowed her eyes, and, sobbing, she leaned her head against Wilbur’s chest.

  “I’ll try,” she whispered.

  ~ ~ ~

  Later that evening Caroline appeared in the kitchen, and the residents heard noises they hadn’t heard in many weeks. It was the sound of a large pot clattering down from the shelf. After nearly three hours Caroline clanged the dinner bell that sat on the dining room sideboard.

  One by one, the residents came. They walked slowly and with little happiness in their step, but they came. It was after nine o’clock when Caroline dished out helpings of macaroni and cheese and carrots. Wilbur said a prayer of thanksgiving and they ate. Although the cheese sauce was thin and watery and the carrots underdone, everyone said the meal was just like Ida would have served.

  “Your grandma would have been real proud of you,” Laricka said.

  Although it was offered as a compliment, Caroline’s tears started again and that’s when Max took over the conversation. “Don’t worry, Caroline. As the new owner of this house I’ll see to it that we have adequate kitchen help. My plan is to—”

  “New owner?” Wilbur cut in.

  Max nodded. “Although nothing’s been finalized yet, as Big Jim’s brother I’m next of kin and obviously in line to inherit my brother’s estate, which includes the house.”

  “You’re not taking Caroline into consideration,” Wilbur said pointedly.

  “Oh, she’d be welcome to stay here,” Max replied. “If she pays rent like everyone else.” Before anyone had time to question him, Max swung into a lengthy explanation of how he planned to hire a cook for food preparation and a housekeeper to do the cleaning.

  “Of course,” he said, “it means I’ll be raising the rent.”

  “Raising the rent?” Laricka shrieked. “I can barely afford what I’m paying now!”

  “Then you’ll have to move,” Max answered.

  Harriet echoed Laricka’s thought. “I can’t afford to pay more. We don’t need a housekeeper and cook.”

  “And what?” Max said. “We’ll continue eating this kind of slop?” He gestured at the swirl of watery macaroni on his plate.

  Up until that point Wilbur had held his tongue, figuring Max’s words were nothing but pompous pondering and not worth arguing over, but the macaroni comment pushed him into action. He glared across the table and in a loud commanding voice said, “Hold on there!”

  Ignoring the bristle in Wilbur’s voice, Max continued, “My intent is to make this house a high-class residence, a place we can be proud to call home.”

  In a frail thin voice Caroline said, “I’m already proud to call it home.”

  “Me too,” Laricka echoed.

  By then Wilbur was on his feet and leaning across the table with his nose nearly touching Max’s. “You ought to get your facts right before you go spouting off about what you’ll do or not do. It so happens Ida left the house to Caroline.”

  “Impossible,” Max stuttered. “She’s not a real Sweetwater!”

  “Caroline is Sweetwater enough for Ida to believe in her!”

  A bright red flush started on Max’s neck and crawled up his face. “Bullshit! She’s a phony, an imposter, a bastard child!”

  “Enough!” Wilbur yelled back. “One more comment like that, and I’m coming across this table!”

  Although he was up in years, Wilbur was taller and wider than Max and the bristle of anger made him seem menacing.

  “Caroline and I had a talk today,” he said, “and she’s decided things will remain exactly as they are.”

  Several of the residents applauded, and Harriet said, “Good!”

  Max’s face grew even redder that it was. “Caroline can’t decide crap. I own this house, she doesn’t!”

  Wilbur looked square into Max’s face. “Yes, she does. Ida had a will that left everything to Caroline.”

  “Bullshit!” Max repeated. “Ida was a Sweetwater; she’d never cut out her own kin.” He hesitated a moment then said, “How come I ain’t seen no copy of this so-called will?”

  Wilbur turned to Caroline. “Do you know where Ida kept her important papers?”

  “No, I don’t,” she answered. “We never talked about things like that.”

  Wilbur lowered himself into his chair, his shoulders now a bit slumped. At that point he had to admit he’d never actually seen the will, but he’d heard about it from Ida. “It was about two weeks ago,” he said. “Ida told me she’d had a lawyer draw up a will leaving everything to Caroline.”

  “A lawyer?” Max echoed dubiously. “No name, just a lawyer?”

  “She might have mentioned a name, but offhand I don’t recall it.”

  “Ha,” Max sneered. “Another bullshit story.”

  Wilbur glared at Max. “I’ve got no reason to lie. I’m just repeating what Ida told me.”

  “So you say,” Max snapped back. “But I think you’re in it with her.” Max shook a thumb toward Caroline. “This one’s figuring to sell the place and walk off with a nice fat profit!”<
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  “I’m not looking to sell anything,” Caroline said defensively. “This is my grandma’s house, and I’d like to keep it the way she wanted.”

  Max angrily turned to Caroline. “Grandma, my ass! You don’t have a shred of evidence proving James was your daddy!”

  “Grandma said I’ve got eyes just like Daddy.”

  Harriet, who’d been drowning her sorrow in the bottle of bourbon kept in her nightstand, said nothing, but her eyes bounced back and forth as the argument raged on.

  “Brown eyes? That’s your evidence?” Max gave a resentful grunt. “I’m Big Jim’s blood brother, born of the same mama! If anybody’s got a right to this house, it’s me!”

  Doctor Payne stood and rapped the handle of his knife against the table. “Listen up!” he shouted. When everyone else stopped talking he lowered his tone. “This is easily enough settled. Tomorrow we’ll call Jack Muller and ask him.”

  “Call who?” several voices echoed in unison.

  “Jack Muller,” Doctor Payne repeated. “He’s the only lawyer in Rose Hill. Everybody uses Jack.”

  As he listened to the argument circling the table, Wilbur thought about his conversation with Ida. Jack Muller did not sound like a familiar name, but maybe he was wrong. Rather than continue what was rapidly escalating into a territorial war, he’d try and see if he couldn’t remember the name of Ida’s lawyer. He started with A and one by one went through the letters of the alphabet, hoping to trigger a memory and call up a name.

  Why was it, Wilbur wondered, that when you really needed a piece of information, it got stuck in the back of your mind? In cases like this, the only thing he could do was wait and hope it would reappear.

  A War of Wills

  Before the supper table was cleared the battle lines had been drawn. Although such a thought had never before been mentioned, Max insisted he’d moved in fully expecting to one day inherit the house built by his brother. It was noticeable how Max no longer referred to Big Jim by name; he was now “my brother.”

  Doctor Payne, a stickler for formalities, stood squarely behind Max. As the others squabbled across the table, Payne stood and cleared his throat loudly. “Given the absence of a will, the court would have no recourse but to turn the estate over to a blood relative.”

  “Ah,” Louie grumped, “so now you’re a brain surgeon and a lawyer?”

  “That remark was uncalled for,” Payne shot back. “I am simply stating a fact.”

  Although generally not one to step into the fray, Laricka spoke up. “Even if there is no will I know for a fact Ida wanted Caroline to have the house.”

  Payne held his adversarial position and stood firm. “And how exactly do you know that?”

  “Ida was a grandma just as I am,” Laricka answered, “and there isn’t a grandma in the world who’d choose her brother-in-law over her grandchild.” She leaned back into her chair, obviously pleased with the rationale.

  “Garbage!” Max shouted. “Irrational, bullshit garbage! It was my brother who built this house and—”

  “Hold on!” Wilbur held his hand up. “Doctor Payne may not be a lawyer, but I was and I can say with certainty that who thinks what is of no relevance. This is not an issue of opinion. Ownership of the house will eventually be determined by the legal document stating Ida’s intent. Right now we don’t have a copy of her will. I know it exists but—”

  Harriet drained the glass of bourbon she’d brought to dinner and hiccupped. “Sorry.”

  Wilbur completed his thought. “The challenge will be to find it.”

  Caroline sat at the end of the table with her plate of runny macaroni untouched. So far she had said but a few words, and as the others argued her eyes filled with tears. Her thoughts drifted back to other angry voices: Mama, Daddy, Greg. The sound of anger was always the same—harsh, unrelenting, ugly. Anger never resolved itself it just led to more anger, and in time whatever love there had once been was gone.

  When she finally spoke her voice quivered like jelly thickened with sorrow.

  “Stop arguing. I didn’t come here for the house. I came here because I wanted to be with Grandma. Now that she’s gone there’s no reason for me to stay. Max can have—”

  “No, he can’t!” Harriet jumped up so quickly her chair toppled backward. Seemingly sober as a judge, she turned to Caroline. “You know damn well what your grandma thought of Max. Why, she’d roll over in her grave if she thought you’d let him grab hold of what was intended for you!”

  “But if it’s rightfully his—”

  “It isn’t,” Wilbur said. “We don’t have an in-hand copy of Ida’s will yet, but I know it exists. I’m going to make sure Caroline is taken care of—those were her exact words. She loved you just as she loved this house, and she intended for you to live here.”

  Laricka agreed, and Louie insisted Caroline had to stay because she was the only one who knew Ida’s cooking secrets.

  “But until this issue of the will is straightened out,” Wilbur said, “someone has to manage the house. Collect the rents, pay bills, and—”

  “See to meals,” Louie added.

  ~ ~ ~

  It was after ten when the residents began to discuss a vote on who should be the interim house manager. With the right side of his mouth curled into an argumentative sneer, Max maintained that since Caroline did not pay rent she was not entitled to vote so she voluntarily stepped aside.

  “No deal,” Louie said. “Caroline gets a vote. She does the cooking, and that’s worth more than the measly rent you pay.”

  It was common knowledge Max paid less than the other residents. He’d bragged about it, claiming “family benefits.”

  “I agree with Louie.” Laricka nodded. “And if Caroline needs help with the cooking, I can whip up one of my black cakes.”

  Louie groaned. “Enough with the black cake. Nobody wants burnt cake.”

  Laricka puckered her lips into a pout. “Black cake isn’t burnt.”

  “He knows that,” Payne said, “but Louie thinks he’s funny.”

  Before it became ugly, Wilbur called for a vote on whether Caroline was entitled to vote. Without her vote it was five to one, Max being the only dissenter. The others agreed preparing meals was adequate compensation for not paying rent.

  After the issue of Caroline voting was settled, they moved to voting on the management of the house or, as Max described it, temporary custody.

  He expected Wilbur to side with Caroline but thought Harriet would back him up. For three nights in a row he’d slipped into her room, poured any number of drinks, and stayed for far longer than was respectable. On those occasions Harriet giggled and flirted in a way that made him believe she’d not only stand with him but maybe even swear to whatever he said. The earlier outburst, he’d decided, was a reaction to too much bourbon. Plus, given the friction beteeen Louie and Payne, they’d most certainly be on opposite sides.

  The way Max saw it, Caroline had Wilbur and Louie; he had Payne and Harriet. And after Louie’s comment about the black cake, it looked like Laricka might swing to his side. She would probably be the deciding vote.

  “All in favor of Max taking over management of the house,” Wilbur said.

  Doctor Payne and Max raised their hand. Max looked at Harriet and nodded.

  Nothing. If she noticed, she gave no indication of it.

  “Anyone else?” Wilbur asked.

  Still nothing. Neither Harriet nor Laricka moved.

  “Okay,” Wilbur said. “That’s two for Max.”

  “All in favor of having Caroline manage the house,” Wilbur said.

  Louie, Laricka, and Harriet’s hands shot up, then Wilbur and Caroline followed suit.

  “Okay,” Wilbur said, “that’s five for Caroline. Looks like she wins.”

  Although there was little Max could do about it, he sputtered and spat for a while, then stomped off toward his own room. As he passed by Harriet, he snarled, “Don’t expect me to be stopping by this evening.”r />
  ~ ~ ~

  The next morning Caroline rose before the sun crossed the horizon. She went down to the kitchen, set a pot of coffee on to perk, and pulled the iron skillet from the cupboard. That morning when the residents came to breakfast there was a platter of fried eggs with broken yolks and half-cooked bacon. The basket previously used for biscuits was filled with slices of Wonder Bread, and Caroline had a bandage wrapped around the palm of her left hand.

  Caroline

  Last night Wilbur came to my room. I suppose he did it because he heard me crying. His room is just across the hall from mine, and it’s easy enough to hear what’s going on. If it was anybody else I might’ve said go away and leave me alone, but talking to Wilbur is like talking to Grandma. He doesn’t ask anything of me, he just listens like he really cares.

  He told me he was telling the truth about Grandma’s will and said it was just a matter of time until we come across it. I hope he’s right, because living here feels like I’ve still got a piece of Grandma with me. This morning when I went down to the kitchen I could almost see her standing behind me, telling me what to do. If I leave here she’ll be like Daddy, stuck in my mind for a while then growing fuzzier with every day that passes.

  When I first came to Rose Hill I figured Clarence was my best friend and maybe even the only friend I’d have here. Then I met Grandma. It seems impossible I could come to love her so much in such a short time, but if you knew Grandma you’d understand. She had a way of making you feel good about yourself even if you did something stupid. One time I was supposed to be keeping an eye on the biscuits and got to thinking about my story; next thing I knew smoke was coming from the oven. Grandma had to mix up a whole new tray of biscuits, but instead of yelling at me she laughed and said she’d done the very same thing a number of times. Knowing what a good cook Grandma was I doubted that was true, but hearing her say it made me feel a whole lot less stupid.

  I sure hope we can find that will, because if we don’t I doubt Max will let me stay here. He might tolerate me for a short while, but he’d be looking for a way to get rid of me. Probably he’d say my cooking is no good, which is true. But I’m trying to get better.