by Mimi Flood
Don’t get involved, I reminded myself.
Situated in a one-hundred-year-old house, the notary’s office was decorated in a very cold and modern way, which contrasted the house’s Victorian style.
We sat in the waiting area, welcomed by an overly made-up middle-aged receptionist. She offered us a beverage and I quickly requested an Espresso, as strong as she had. While I waited for my coffee, I noted how silent my parents remained. Other than a word or two in the car, they hadn’t spoken much if at all that morning. Something was definitely off.
Mr. Henri Charbonneau, the notary, soon greeted us. He was a young man, possibly in his late thirties, dressed impeccably well, his dark hair showing slight hints of white. His smile was wide and bright, and though I found him to be quite attractive, I was immediately turned off by the intensity of his cologne. I couldn’t but compare his overpowering scent to Devon’s clean, subtle scent. For some reason, I could almost recall it perfectly. Closing my eyes, I chased the thought from my mind.
We followed Henri into his office. The receptionist brought us our drinks and we sat down on extremely firm, brown wingback leather chairs.
“Corinne, Alex, yet again, I am so sorry for your loss,” Henri began, informally. He then looked at me as if he had just noticed I was there. “Elizabeth, my condolences.” I smiled, curtly. “Dolores truly was a magnificent woman.”
He seemed like an honest man, but something in the way he had said magnificent gave me the impression he was laying it on a bit thick. He went on endlessly about how long he had known my grandmother, as well as both my parents while fiddling with a very fancy looking pen. He seemed nervous, making me think that maybe this was his first time dealing with such a substantial estate.
Clearing his throat, Henri opened a large, leather-bound ledger. “Let’s begin,” he said.
After spending several minutes reading through numerous paragraphs of legal jargon, most of which went right over my head, he finally got to the distribution of my grandmother’s assets. The majority of her belongings, clothing and other trinkets were given to her friends or employees. Her collection of jewelry was to be given to my mother, something that brought a bittersweet smile to her face. She’ll be pleased, I thought, remembering my mother’s interest in a certain pair of diamond studded earrings.
I was beginning to worry that my grandmother had forgotten about me or had simply decided to cut me out of her will entirely. The list of items was starting to run thin.
Henri paused and took a deep breath. He looked us all in the eye, hesitating as if gauging our mood.
“What is it?” my father asked, clearly as puzzled as I was.
Henri bit his lower lip, giving him a childish and unprofessional look. His silence and the way his eyes shifted from my mother to my father and back again, made it clear a war was waging in his mind. Whatever was written on that paper was making him incredibly uncertain about how to proceed.
Just say it, I wanted to scream.
“Forgive me, but you must understand that these were her wishes,” he explained before continuing with the reading:
“I, Dolores Williams, of sound mind and judgement, bequeath the ownership of Williams Family Orchards, as well as all possessions and responsibilities therein, including and not limited to the residence situated at 36 Ash Lane, to my granddaughter, Ms. Elizabeth Veronique Williams.”
Though I could see his lips moving, I couldn’t for the life of me understand what he was saying. There was just no way. I must have misunderstood.
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. My parents, who appeared as confused as I felt, looked at me. “Did you just say my grandmother left the orchards...to me?”
“Yes,” Henri confirmed, clearing his throat again. “As well as her house.”
He smiled rather forcefully and looked at my parents. They both sat perfectly still, like statues. Though my father’s face gave nothing away, my mother seemed to be having trouble controlling the panic attack that was growing beneath her otherwise calm exterior.
“Dolores has left you this letter, Elizabeth.” Henri handed me a crisp, white envelope, with Ellie written on its front in my grandmother’s unmistakable cursive handwriting. “I am certain it explains everything and will answer any questions you might have.”
My hand shook as I reached for the letter. I was more than certain the letter wouldn’t answer every question I had but thanked him nonetheless, too stunned to say much else. Henri finished up the reading, covering mostly small, unimportant details that didn’t affect me directly, or in truth, I couldn’t really hear. My thoughts were elsewhere, panic and disbelief having taken over, making his words sound like gibberish.
We left the office in uncomfortable silence, I wished I had taken my own car. What I wouldn’t give for a moment alone to absorb the last hour’s information. So many questions were running through my head.
I knew I would eventually have to read the letter, but the idea of it, of seeing my grandmother’s final words to me, made me queasy. And to be honest, I was in shock.
How could she leave me the Orchards?
The fact that this was probably why she had wanted to talk to me a week earlier hit me like I was walking into a brick wall. I felt the ground beneath me drop. The backseat of my parents’ sedan caught me.
“Well, that was interesting,” my father said, shutting the passenger door. “Are you going to read it?”
“Alex, please,” my mother snapped, “It’s none of our business what’s in that letter.”
She was watching me in the rear-view mirror, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She sounded patient and sympathetic, but I knew better. Something about the way she was looking at me gave me the impression she was just as eager to have more answers and I couldn’t blame her. I knew very well she was dying to know why Dolores hadn’t left the orchards to them, which to me was the rational thing to do.
I ran my fingers over the envelope and the indented writing, willing myself to understand what the hell my grandmother had been thinking. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could read the letter in private, though I had a feeling that would be easier said than done.
CHAPTER NINE
Once we were home, my parents left me alone, wandering off to their respective hideouts, with their heads hanging, barely speaking to one another. The day was beautiful. It was a perfect spring day and the sun was shining. I decided to go by the lake rather than locking myself indoors.
Lost in my thoughts, I sat in a chair and took a deep breath. I looked at the envelope in my hands. Since getting it, I had been so stressed and anxious that I had nearly crumpled the sides from holding it so tight. Delicately as possible, I opened the top flap as if tearing it too quickly would somehow destroy it and make it vanish. Inside was cream-coloured stationery I recognized as my grandmother’s. Tears filled my eyes as I unfolded it slowly and read her last words to me:
My dearest Elizabeth,
If you are reading this then I am dead. I’ve always wanted to say that! Now that I’ve brought a smile to your face, let’s get on with it.
Yes, my dear, I have left you my home, my farm; everything of real importance. I am absolutely certain that you are angry, upset and no doubt wondering if I was suffering from dementia when I decided this. The answer simply is no.
I did not come to this decision lightly. The orchards are my life, as you know, and I could not leave them in the hands of just anyone. The company needs someone who will appreciate its importance and its value. It needs someone who will understand the work needed. Your parents, though they are good people, should not be left in charge. I cannot go into detail as to why, but you know better than most, I am sure. They have worked their whole lives and now, more than ever, need to focus on each other.
You, I believe, are the perfect match for the company your grandfather and I worked so hard to create. I am sure at this very moment you are doubting your capabilities. Please don’t.
Do not take this opportun
ity lightly and please consider all your options before coming to a decision. If in the end, you decide this isn’t for you, then so be it. If you do sadly decide to forfeit this gift, Henri is ready to help you with all the hassle.
I am sorry we did not have a chance to speak about this in person. That was my failing. I do not blame you. In youth, we often need space. We need to find our own way, make our own mistakes. I should have made an effort to bring you home more often. I do not have any regrets except for not doing so.
Please give this offer your most serious and sincere consideration. This is all I am asking of you.
I love you, Grandma
My head was spinning. All I am asking of you. It was written as if she was asking the simplest of favours. As if she needed me to water her plants! There was simply no way I could take on this responsibility.
What could she have been thinking?
My hands began to shake, my heart rate quickened and breathing became more and more difficult. Was I having a panic attack? I quickly put my head between my knees and tried to take deep breaths, overwhelmed by a nauseous feeling.
“Are you alright?” a warm and familiar voice asked.
Though I felt my insides tense, he was quite possibly the last person I wanted to see at that moment and especially in the condition I was in.
“Not really, no,” I answered, keeping my head down, hoping this horrible feeling would soon subside.
Without looking at up, I handed Devon the letter. He was quiet for a time and then sat down next to me, rubbing my back gently, trying to comfort me. His touch surprised me, but it felt amazing.
“I figured as much,” he said, making my head jolt up. “Dolores and I had talked about it a while back. Wasn’t sure if she had already told you or not. I guess she hadn’t.”
“No, she hadn’t! What do you mean you talked about it?” I snapped, the words coming out harshly. His answer had caught me off guard and I found I was unable to hide my frustration. “No offence, but why exactly would she have talked to you about this?”
He looked at me, confused as if I should know the answer.
“Because I’m the manager.”
“What? But I thought you just moved back, after your parents…” I stopped, not wanting to bring up such a sore subject again.
“I did,” he began explaining. “Right after graduation, I worked for Dolores here and there—helping out around the farm, you know, shit work.”
I knew exactly what shit work meant in the Orchard’s world. It meant picking out the bad apples, it meant boxing and crating. It basically meant disgusting and hard work that most well-seasoned workers didn’t want to do.
“Then, I moved away for a few years. When my parents died, I came back and Dolores offered me a job as manager. Since I didn’t have much of a choice but to stick around, I figured why not?”
“Right, why not?” I added, sarcastically.
I knew how this town could suck people in and force them to stay. It was the main reason I decided to move away as soon as I could. I felt bad for Devon in a way, being forced to return to Frelighsburg and then having to stay. Then again, he had accepted the job. It had been his choice.
“I had to stay, Ellie,” he said as if reading my thoughts. “Valerie couldn’t deal with everything that needed to be done once Mom and Dad were gone. And it wasn’t so bad, really. I didn’t have much going on in my life anyway.”
“You didn’t have a career or a girlfriend?” I asked, trying not to sound obvious. I was pleased that we were having a regular conversation and I wanted to know more about him. I didn’t feel awkward around him, as I’d been afraid would be the case.
He chuckled, “Definitely no girlfriend. At least nothing serious.” He picked up a flat stone off the ground and threw it into the lake, making it skip across the water. “I was working construction. Odd jobs here and there. Nothing stable.”
“I get why you worked for her, but that doesn’t explain why she told you all of this,” I said, waving the letter in my hand. “And if she told you, why couldn’t she tell me?” I remembered her voice on the phone message she had left me and how important it had sounded. I’d brushed it off as unimportant. Again, I was swamped by guilt.
“I didn’t just work for her,” he began. “When I moved back, I tried to be strong, you know, for Val, but your grandmother saw through that. She could see I was hurting. She helped me through it.” He smiled, his eyes looking up across the lake at my grandmother’s house as if reminiscing on a happier time. “Honestly, I don’t think I would be here now if it wasn’t for her.”
Memories of her generosity toward others came flooding back, my eyes stinging with tears. My heart broke a little then as I thought about how I had been selfish. I had never given any thought to how her death was affecting others. In my foolish mind, it was limited to me and my immediate family. Obviously, she had played an important role in Devon’s life and most likely in others as well. Let’s face it—he had been present in her life far more than I had been, especially of late.
Still, I was angered—by the letter, by his admission, by everything. I could accept that my grandmother had been a key player in his life, but I didn’t like knowing she’d kept secrets from me and that she’d clearly been much more open with Devon.
“Couldn’t you be doing something better though? Somewhere else?”
I felt that circumstances beyond his control had forced Devon to stay and I couldn’t deny the similarity between him and me. I was now facing this responsibility that I wanted no part of but which would undoubtedly drag me back, too.
“Better? I like what I do. Either way, I owed it to her to stay. Toward the end, she kept saying she wouldn’t be around much longer, despite everyone thinking she’d outlive us all.”
He looked down, his face visibly overwhelmed by darkness. Filled with empathy and without any hesitation, I reached for his hand, somewhat surprised by my own boldness. He paused, watching my fingers wrap around his, but didn’t pull away.
“One day, she mentioned you and started talking about how much she admired you. How she admired your strength and courage.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “I sincerely doubt that.”
He looked at me, furrowing his brow. “You really need to work on that, you know?”
“Work on what?”
“This assumption you make that people are lying to you.”
“It’s not an assumption. People lie.”
“I’m not sure who made you believe that, but I’m not lying to you, Elle. Dolores thought the world of you.”
“Maybe, you believe that, but the truth is I disappointed her,” I stated. “I let her down.”
“I don’t think that could be farther from the truth.” He smiled reassuringly, squeezing my hand. Until that moment, his hand in mine had felt so natural, I had forgotten I was holding it.
I gestured toward the hundreds of acres of land with my free hand. “To leave me all of that though? That’s absurd.”
“I learnt a long time ago never to question the decisions of the mighty Mrs. Dolores Williams,” he laughed. “She must have known what she was doing. Why are you doubting her?”
I shrugged not knowing what to say. He had a point. My doubts weren’t stemming from my lack of confidence in her. My hesitation was coming from somewhere else but I wasn’t about to start dissecting it. If I did, I knew that box would never get closed again.
We sat quietly, Devon’s words echoing in my brain, his fingers running along mine. The feeling felt right and instinctual, but despite the comfort it brought me, I also longed for some solitude. Though I felt comfortable with Devon next to me, I still felt I needed a chance to think over everything I had just learnt.
As if reading my mind, Devon stood up, releasing my hand.
“See you at the party?”
“Party?” I asked, still slightly in a confused daze.
“Dolores Williams’ Death Party. Come one, come all!” Devon said, q
uoting the invitation’s tag-line, which had been chosen by Dolores herself.
With the morning’s unexpected news I had let it completely drop out of my mind. Now, on top of this new information I had to digest, I also needed to be on my best behaviour and see plenty of faces that I thought were buried in my past.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, with a reluctant smile.
“Great,” he said, sounding pleased. “I’ll see you there.”
With a wink, he left and I watched him walk away. It was a pleasant sight, as pleasant as my dark mood would allow.
I need a drink, I thought and headed home.
CHAPTER TEN
A loud bang woke me from my afternoon nap. I was disoriented. It took me a moment to realize that I had fallen asleep on my parent’s living room sofa. Sitting up, I massaged my temples, trying to ease my headache.
After I had spoken with Devon, I had come in to find the house empty. I had poured myself a glass of wine, which had turned into a few and feeling the strain of the day, I had shut my eyes for a moment. Apparently, that moment had turned into a few hours. I looked at my watch—it was now past six o’clock. I rushed upstairs, brushed out my tangled hair and applied some lipstick. I decided to change out of my wrinkled shirt and into a soft, light blue blouse I thought paired well with my black pants.
Heading out, I walked along the lake and up to Dolores’ house. The sun had just started to set, the lake was now basking in the twilight, and the sky was various shades of pink, orange and blue. The house, which I then realized was now technically mine, was buzzing with the sound of people inside. The lights from indoors gave it a ghostly glow. I took a deep breath and walked up toward the back porch.
