We are half an hour on the road, growing near the coast until Benjamin announced our arrival. Beyond the congested cypress trees, is a pearl mansion flickering through the metal gates that protect it. A single driveway stretched through a row of fenced pine trees, trimmed and perfectly aligned.
“This was her home.” I said to myself. “I remember this place from her photo albums.”
“Born and raised.” said Benjamin. “When she got married, this is where they started their family. Ms. Clarisse loved her home, but after Mr. Mable’s death, she demolished her view of this place. She couldn’t enjoy it like she used to.”
The decorated steel gate opened by two nearby workers dressed in full clothed uniforms. My mouth dropped from the sight of this aristocratic mansion. As Benjamin drove ahead, the corners grew wider, expanding the roman style pillars that guard the wide maroon door. Statues of the face of white lions hovered over each window. The elevated grey roof overlapped with what appears to be attic windows. This mansion is as intimidating as a castle.
“It’s as old as you think it is.” said Benjamin. “This mansion has been through the worst earthquakes and fires. Nonetheless, the Mable family has torn and reconstructed the same style countless of times. What you are seeing is a replica of history. The Mable family is more than old money. Ancient is appropriate word for it.”
That is clearly something Ms. Clarisse never mentioned to me. Why would she anyway, I wouldn’t be able to understand her. When we reached the front of the mansion, I noticed a limousine.
My marvel of this mansion has become short lived, reality has kicked in, and the chest pains returned. The idea of seeing Ms. Clarisse’s family gave me heartburn.
“Are they here?” I asked.
“That vehicle belongs to a group of lawyers.” replied Benjamin. “They all had a cold stare in their faces. They must be Troy’s representatives.”
Benjamin instructed me to wait for him to open the door. I thanked God for the custom and gave myself the few seconds to feel invisible. When he opened the door, he offered his hand and helped me out of the comfort of the leather seats.
“You’re not alone.” Benjamin assured. “Mr. Müller is inside, don’t worry your little head about their personalities. They deserve to get their share, they waited this long for it. Perhaps they will…choke on it.”
Benjamin cracked a wide pearly smile. His soul is wiser than mine, I will need to take the next steps alone. I thanked him for the ride and watched him drive off.
A maid welcomed me at the foot of the entrance. As soon as we went inside, she rushed me through one of the halls. My eyes tried to capture as much as I could of Ms. Clarisse’s home. The hall has a light aroma of flowers. The walls are filled with frames of what appears to be family members. I tried to imagine Ms. Clarisse running through these halls as a little girl, as a woman, her first date with Mr. Mable, and her last steps—on her way to Gilia. My imagination brought chills through my spine. I folded my arms to loosen the rough goosebumps on my skin.
The walk feels endless, and I can no longer keep track at how many colossal doors we passed. I tried to imagine what was behind every door, but the maid’s fast feet have no mercy on me. When she stopped to let me catch up, her eyes glanced at my attire as a Gilia employee, and my swollen belly. She forced an awkward smile, and continued. At the end of the hall is an oversize seven-panel French door. A creamy silk curtain covered what was on the opposite side. The maid swung the doors open with her long slender arms. What I thought would be a simple room, became a ball room. Rows of silver chandeliers sparkled over me. The patterned porcelain floors mirrored my reflection. Royal blue drapes hung over the arched walls, the long slim windows above invited the sun to feed the tropical plants inside. This room must have entertained many guests, but today, it is exclusively reserved for the presentation of Ms. Clarisse’s Will. The grand stage laid ahead, where I imagined countless of bands playing music. Now it’s empty, covered by the red stage drapes.
Rows of plush seats centered the room. I found Mr. Müller in the front, leaning on the oak table that has a pitcher of water. He looks busy, flipping through the papers inside his briefcase. The lawyers Benjamin described are also here, and there’s seven of them, standing behind Mr. Müller. I’m not sure if they really were Troy’s representatives, maybe they’re just trust lawyers or estate lawyers. One of them took notice of me and whispered to Mr. Müller who turned his attention to me. He welcomed me with a smile and told me to sit on the left row, apart from family row. I silently obeyed, wiping my sweaty palms on my satin pants. The thought of being given Ms. Clarisse’s cabin worries me, what if Ana objects? I don’t think I have the right protest something that doesn’t correspond me.
As much as Ms. Clarisse explained, I never understood why Troy, Ana, and Ben were outraged that the inheritance didn’t pass on to them after their father’s death. Why would they put their mother in a five star senior home, and disregard her so easily. Was this all in spite of their father’s actions?
Mr. Müller took a glance at his silver watch and shook his head, ten minutes have passed. They are running late. From the way he frowned, it must be disgraceful to Mr. Müller that they would arrive late for something so important. For Ms. Clarisse’s sake, I couldn’t express my opinion—much less myself.
“It looks like there’s going to be a lot of people” I said, glancing behind me and counting the chairs.
“I’m afraid not.” said Mr. Müller. “This is just a formal look, those who will be attending are—”
An interruption kept Mr. Müller from finishing his sentence, the doors behind us swung open by the maid who escorted me. I kept my head straight, admitting one fact. They are here, late—but here.
My last memories with Ms. Clarisse started to come back. No matter how much water she drank, her dry lips couldn’t hydrate. Her pale face grew weary and her eyes have become difficult for her to remain open. She spent most of her times on the phone, pleading Mr. Müller to not give up in contacting her children. She wanted to see them one last time, but we didn’t receive any visitors.
My toes curled, my legs wanted to lift me on my feet and run. Being in the same room with them gives me an uneasy feelings. More than one pair of shoes echoed on the porcelain tiles. I finally looked behind and found them half way through the seats. Without a doubt, her first son is here, Troy.
Chapter Nine
The Will to Live
“I watched them from the corner of my eyes…”
Troy is taller than I imagined. Gray lines filled over his natural black hair. His dark suit unsettled me, looking at him is intimidating enough. He swiftly walked in shouting at his earpiece about shipments and costs. He looks energetic, unbendable, and authoritative—just like Ms. Clarisse.
Behind him trotted his wife, whom Ms. Clarisse referred to as Diane the ‘money hungry shark’. She is clearly younger than Troy, by how many years—I don’t know. Her rolled up hair bun gave me the impression that she was in a hurry to get here. Diane’s small body walked gracefully, her small nose looks like it’s reaching for the ceiling. She called over their two children to hurry up and sit beside their dad. Ms. Clarisse’s grandchildren appear to be in their early teens. The oldest one wedged his eyes on the flashy holographic game console. He walked through the rows of seats without tripping. The other is a pretty girl who resembles Ms. Clarisse as a child. Her blonde curls bounced in adolescence. Unlike her brother, she’s on her cell phone texting without once glancing up, she found her seat without any regard of those around her.
I watched them from the corner of my eyes, Troy and his family look emotionless, and preoccupied on their devices. Diane pressed her hands together, smiling like everything was okay.
A few minutes later, Ana arrived. Her figure almost ran into the room, pulling along an eight years old boy that resisted her. Ana had Ms. Clarisse’s face, round with almond eyes, but her hair is brown, like her father. She didn’t take notice of anyone because s
he’s too busy yelling at her son. They disputed, he didn’t want to wait a week before he returns back to his father’s house. The eight year old drew his hand away from his mother, and sat on the floor screaming. Ana covered her ears and walked ahead of him, sitting behind Troy—on the family side. The eight year old boy eventually gave up and sniveled behind, his feet stomped on the floor in rebellion. When Ana asked him to sit beside her, he purposely sat two seats away.
Ms. Clarisse’s grandchildren wiggled away texting, they whined about how much more time they needed to wait. Ana’s son found jumping on the seats was much more fun because it made Ana angry. Troy resumed his conversations on his earpiece, and his wife smiled away, blankly staring around. It has been only a week since Ms. Clarisse was buried, and I have yet to see an ounce of sorrow on their faces.
“Look who decided to show up.” said Troy looking behind the room. “Why don’t you say hi to him, my dear wife?”
His wife looked behind and held a sour expression. She asked Troy why he was bringing up the past, but Troy ignored her, resuming his conversation with the earpiece. Ben walked in laughing up a storm on his cellphone. He took a glance at us and told the person on the other line he would call them back. He sat between beside Ana and wiggled his nephew’s hair—the 8 year old grumbled and slapped his uncle’s hand off.
“Well isn’t this a rare sight.” declared Troy. “My backstabbing brother is here.”
“Put a sock in it, you knew I’d be here.” he teased. “Hey Ana, where’s your husband?”
“Were getting a divorce.” she stammered. “I can’t believe you forgot! I told you a month ago.”
“Oh sorry—I forgot.” laughed Ben.
It’s clear that Ben is anything but a family man. His smile is lopsided, fake, and one that can only come with the pleasures of a luxurious life. Mr. Müller sighed, and fixed his glasses to better read the papers on the desk. I locked my eyes at him, I watched him drink a glass of water, and scratch his head. I can no longer stare at the rest. Finally, Mr. Müller greeted us, and introduced himself.
“As you all well know, I am the family lawyer of your recently deceased mother Clarisse Elliot Mable, and of your late father Austin Mable—”
“We know that already!” shouted Ben.
“Can we get this over with, I’m needed at the office.” marked Troy.
“I apologize. I’m aware of the valuable time you all have. For legal purposes, everything is being recorded, under these circumstances, I’m not authorized to cut time for anyone. Let’s continue where I left off shall we? Troy, can you please finish your call.”
With a whispering groan, Troy ended his conversation. Out of frustration, he shoved the device in his pocket.
“When this is finished, we will see if you’re competent enough to represent this family.” ended Troy.
Mr. Müller doesn’t seem bothered by his threat, he stacked his papers, and started where he left off.
“Thank you all for coming to the formal announcement of Clarisse Elliot Mable’s Will, testimony, estates, and trusts. This will also contain all of the assets of Austin Mable who passed his assets to his spouse. Now that Clarisse Elliot Mable is no longer with us, we will now commence the declaration. Upon Ms. Clarisse’s request, our guest on the left seat was specifically summoned to be present. She was her personal care taker in Gilia until her death this passing—”
“But she isn’t a family member!” snapped Troy’s wife. “What is my late mother-in law’s personal caretaker doing here—Troy?”
“I don’t care, let’s just get this done and over with, I have lot of work to do.” he replied.
The rest of the members didn’t lay an eye on me. I don’t exist, to them, it’s that easy. The lawyers behind Mr. Müller recorded the time, and had us sign documents stating that we’re present. When all the formality was done, Troy has lost his patience, Ana was growing another argument with her son, and Ben got in trouble for calling someone in secret. Troy’s teenagers pretended like they aren’t here, they dipped their heads down into their gadgets.
“I don’t know why Dad didn’t just hurry up and pass down his company to me, I’ve been running it since his retirement.” said Troy.
“That’s because Dad didn’t want you to take over.” said Ana. “Mom’s going to pass it to me, the women in her family pass everything to their daughters.”
“You’re wrong Ana, the only thing mom is going to pass are those old resorts.” laughed Ben. “Good luck managing all that business stuff, just give me my rightful share.”
Mr. Müller mentioned the cabin being my small share and that I would be first to be signed off the Will. He mentioned the cabin’s address in Washington State, and declared it under his power to be legally mine. Mr. Müller approached me with a warm smile.
“A month before her death, she hired a few contractors to do some repairs on the cabin. From now on, please take good care of it and keep Ms. Clarisse in your memories.”
He gave me a thick manila folder with a red print reading confidential. I looked at the folder with tears whelping in my eyes.
“One final note.” he added. “She wanted to give you this letter, you may open it now.”
My hands shook when I accepted the folded letter. I ripped it open, the letter read:
Child,
If there is life after death, I will return to the cabin and watch over you and your baby.
p.s. I know this of late notice, but I have been too embarrassed to say it until now, sorry for that slap.
Clarisse Elliot Mable
I covered my mouth, unsure if I should laugh or cry.
To my surprise the family gave no objection. Troy’s son chuckled while he rapidly pressed his thumbs on the keyboard.
“Isn’t that the place grandma tried to take us for vacation?” he said, speaking to himself.
His sister who didn’t bother looking at her brother replied with a quiet yes.
“I was afraid she was going to pass that old dusty cabin to Me.” added Ana. “I wouldn’t know what to do with it besides sell it.”
“That’s if you sell it, isn’t that cabin in the middle of nowhere?” said Troy’s wife. “Not many people can visit that region.”
“You’re right, looks like mom saved me the trouble.” replied Ana.
Troy and Ben didn’t say a word, they don’t care about an old abandoned cabin. They wanted to know who will inherit what: which company, how much, which land, which mansion, which shares, how much, how much, how much. I left my seat. This is as far as I can stay. I have to get some fresh air before I smack somebody. Mr. Müller noticed my urgency to leave, and stopped me. Turns out, everyone must be present until the entire Will has been heard.
“Please.” he emphasized.
I sat back in the chair and remained silent. What should be happening next is some personal stuff, I shouldn’t be allowed to stay. Mr. Müller continued, he read a document and pulled out another sheet of paper. His eyes followed the print under his glasses reading carefully what Ms. Clarisse has written. The silence grew impossible to bear. The mysterious row or lawyers stayed as motionless as manikins can get. They look young, freshly out of college, yet they maintain a frightening posture.
“Go on with it!” shouted Troy, growing impatient once again.
Mr. Müller reverted to apologizing.
“According to this statement, Ms. Clarisse has another request. There is a letter she wrote specifically for her family.”
“How long have we been waiting? Just hurry up!” whined Ben.
“Well then, it will be easier if I read it to you all at once.” said Mr. Müller holding a familiar pearly white envelope, sealed tightly with blue wax.
“Read it fast.” added Troy “The entire company is hanging on a cliff right now.”
Mr. Müller tore the sealed wax with his thumb and pulled out a creamy sheet. I looked over at Ms. Clarisse’s family, everyone pressed their eyes on the letter. Troy’s son and daughter
turned off their gadgets, his wife kept her hands glued together. Ana perched up from her seat. Ben leaned forward to get a better listening.
A week before Ms. Clarisse died, she wrote obsessively. The staff said that on my days off, Mr. Müller pays her visits. All of this was done without my presence. I wasn’t allowed to be in the room when stopped by, and Ms. Clarisse herself told me I couldn’t read her letter. She said she didn’t want me to see her throw way her fortune to her ungrateful children. But who can blame a mom from worrying about their children’s future? No matter what they did, and how heavy her heart became, Ms. Clarisse still loved them. The time for her to fulfill that love is now, I want to see how far Ms. Clarisse’s love will go.
Mr. Müller cleared his throat.
“To my children: Ana, Troy, and Ben. If you are reading this, I have joined your father Austin. Through a video recording, you will be informed of the details of your inheritance. Please listen carefully, for these are my last words to you.”
Mr. Müller nodded at the other lawyers who brought the visual video. Mr. Müller sat beside the desk and took off his glasses. When the visual video projected a familiar face, my heart began to tear apart, it’s Ms. Clarisse. She looks tired, staring blankly at the camera. Then she opened her mouth and took a short breath, and started to speak.
“I am happy to finally be given a chance to say what is in my heart. I waited for a long time to be given this opportunity.”
Ms. Clarisse closed her eyes, and opened them. She smiled at us and began.
“To my children, Troy, Ana, and Ben. Let me first declare this. Your neglect has hurt me a great deal, I went to Gilia holding on to those promises you made. For too long I have begged for your time, I left you all messages year after year—not once seeing you or my grandchildren. I shouldn’t work so hard to convince you to visit me, but through these years, you made it so. I’m glad Austin is not here to see how you discarded me. My years in Gilia I spent alone, without the comfort, and warmth of the family your father worked so hard for. There is much I wanted to tell you, much I wanted you to know. While there is a time and place for everything, my time is now spent. Thank you for listening to this old woman’s rambling.
The Birth (The Black Wing Book 1) Page 8
