DeBeers 01 Willow

by V. C. Andrews

  There was so much that would do that. however. The closet door was slightly open. and I could see one of his tweed sports jackets with the leather elbow patches. Daddy liked this very manly scented cologne, which, although he never smoked, had the aroma of some fine tobacco. When I walked in. I realized it still hung vividly in the air.

  I moved slowly around the office, gazing as if for the first time at his plaques, his awards, and the pictures he had chosen to hang prominently. There were a number of framed photographs of him with important political people, even the governor of the state and a senator, but in a central location were two pictures of me. one when I was about five, all dressed up for a party my adoptive mother had arranged to celebrate their anniversary, and another of me at my middle-school graduation with both him and my A.M. at my side. She looked as if she were trying to get someone's attention. Her gaze was off left. distracted. Daddy was looking at me, his face caught in one of the most affectionate gazes I had ever seen. I had forgotten this picture.

  I paused at his desk chair. The very thought of sitting in it was inhibiting. I never had. Glancing over his desk. I saw a yellow pad with most of the first page completed. A quick perusal told me he was putting down thoughts for a new paper on bipolar disorder. It appeared he was going to discuss the benefits of being in nature. The meditative power of his famous walks was to find a place in his therapy again and again. How disappointing that he would never finish this_. I thought. He had so much yet to give.

  The ringing of the phone jolted me out of my reverie. For a moment. I just stared at the receiver. I never answered the phone in here, of course, but it rang on. Finally. I picked it up and said hello. It was my family attorney. Mr. Bassinger.

  "Willow, my deepest regrets and condolences," he began.

  I had met him only a few times, usually at social occasions. He was a man pushing seventy, nearly ten years older than Daddy, but he and Daddy had been friends for as long as I could remember.

  "Thank you, Mr. Bassinger. It's still all too fresh and raw to be real to me." I added.

  "I understand. I'm calling because your aunt just phoned my office with the news and asked that I get right on the legal matters that become necessary."

  "No grass grows under Aunt Agnes's feet." I said.

  "Yes." he said in a noncommittal tone. She had obviously forced him to put on his lawyer's face first and then his family friend face. "I just want you to be reassured that I'll be right on it and will review it all with you at the proper time. I can tell you quickly, however, that except for what your father left to his clinic, you are the sole beneficiary, which, of course, includes the house and the property."

  "Thank you, Mr. Bassinger."

  "One more thing," he continued. "I have an envelope with papers in it in my vault that I was instructed not to give to you until your father's passing. I will bring them by later today, if that's all right with you."

  "Yes, of course. What does it involve?"

  "Willow. I am not lying to you when I tell you it was handed to me sealed and I never opened it, nor did your father give me any further information or instructions about it."

  "I see." I said. It made my heart pound. although I had no idea why it should.

  "Once again, I am very sorry. I always told him I would go before he did. You are far too young to have lost both your parents, and he was far too young as well."

  "Yes," I said. "I wasn't aware that he had any heart trouble at all."

  "The shoemaker without shoes, caring more for other people than he did for himself, a truly great man. I'll be by later."

  I thanked him again and hung up.

  Aunt Agnes appeared in the office doorway, standing just at the threshold, precisely the way my adoptive mother would have.

  The funeral is arranged for the day after tomorrow, Willow. I expect you will have many callers. so I have hired a service to provide maids and take care of the food we will need. It would be far beyond Miles's abilities to do anything significant. When I phoned the funeral parlor, I learned your father had left explicit instructions for nearly everything. You don't have to pick out a casket, do any of that. He was very thoughtful that way. Even as a young boy, he was the most organized person in our family. My mother never had to criticize him for the way he kept his things, unlike most boys his age.

  She paused as Miles brought in my tea and biscuits on a tray.

  "Why are you having that in here?" she asked when he set it down on the table in front of the leather sofa.

  "Thank you. Miles," I said instead of responding to her immediately.

  He left the office. I stirred the cup and, without looking at her. said. "I'd like to be alone for a while. Aunt Agnes."

  She blew some air out through her tight lips and left the doorway.

  I glanced at my father's chair as if he were still there. I could see him give me that wink. It brought a smile to my face and then a flow of tears,

  Bad news travels with the wind. It's as if everyone who hears it feels an obligation to pass it along, or maybe a need to get rid of it before it affects them and their lives as well. I like to compare it to a hot potato. You move it to another's hand before it burns your own.

  The phone began riming incessantly. Aunt Agnes took it on herself to answer all the calls. I didn't mind that and for a while was actually grateful she was there to sponge up the flow of sympathy that was threatening to become a tidal wave. Daddy not only had many, many professional friends in all fields of medicine, but there were so many people at the clinic who were thunderstruck.

  I remembered how full of mourners the house had become after my adoptive mother's accident. From the way the phone was ringing off the hook, it threatened to be even fuller. Aunt Agnes was scurrying every which way, shouting orders at Miles, insisting we get in a maid service immediately to clean up a house she considered quite neglected.

  "I don't know what your father was thinking when he dismissed all of his servants except for Miles shortly after your mother's death. I suppose with you off to college and her gone, he thought he didn't have the same requirements. As if the women in this house made the most dirt and dust and mess of it," she muttered. -Did you see the layers of dust in the living room? I don't imagine either your father or that Miles ever set foot in it after your mother's death, and I can't tell you what's going on in the guest bedrooms, Willow."

  "I don't think the people coming to pay their respects are going to inspect the furniture. Aunt Agnes."

  "Why, of course they will," she snapped back. "People are always snooping in everyone else's business. Don't worry about it I'll handle it," she declared. "Where is that Margaret Selby? I have things for her to do,' she added, and went rushing off to find my cousin, who was most likely chatting away with her girlfriends back in Charleston, complaining about being trapped in the house of death.

  I finally felt up to calling Allan and went to my bedroom to do so. I got his answering machine and left the sad message. Then I tried to get some rest. for I knew Aunt Agnes, for all her blustering about, was correct: people would start coming to our home as soon as they could, and I would have an obligation to Daddy's memory to greet them properly.

  A little more than an hour and a half later, my phone woke ine. I had my own number. so Aunt Agnes couldn't pick up this call first. It was Allan.

  "Hey," he said. "Sorry to hear about your father. I guess he was a lot worse than you were first told."

  "I wasn't told anything really, Allan."

  "Um," he said. "That's too bad. He was a relatively young man, right?"

  "Just about sixty."

  "Right, right. So when is the funeral?"

  "Day after tomorrow."

  "Right, right" he said. He sounded so distracted to me. "Well, you know I would be there if I could. Willow. but I have that constitutional law exam. and Heller is a tyrant. You'd have to be dead yourself to get excused from the test, and he would insist you take it the first minute after you were resurrected in e
ither heaven or hell," he added with a small laugh, "I really respect him. though. I want to do well in his class."

  He continued to talk about his work as if my father's death were just another event in the course of a day. I imagined he was simply frying to help me get my mind off it for a while. That was the purpose of visitors at a time like this, wasn't it? Allan was simply trying to ease my pain.

  "Will you come right back afterward?" he asked finally.

  "As soon as I can straighten out all that has to be done. I will." "Well, is there anything you want me to do for you at school, Willow?"

  "No."

  "Keep your chin up. I'll miss you. but I'll keep myself busy until you return. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

  "Okay," I said. I was waiting to hear more to hear how much he cherished me, how much he wished he could be at my side to comfort me and hold me. I was waiting to hear him say "I love you."

  "Oh," he said as if he had forgotten to tell me one more important detail. "Love you.'

  "Love you, too," I said.

  I felt so empty inside after I hung up. His call should have filled me with more warmth, helped me face the next moment. I lay there staring up at the ceiling until I heard a knock at my bedroom door,

  "Willow?" Margaret Selby called. "Are you awake?"

  "Yes," I said, sitting up. "Come in."

  She opened the door and peered in first, "It's all right. Margaret. Come in."

  "Oh, good," she said as if she were escaping from someone in the hallway.

  She was now wearing a black crepe bolero jacket over a fit and flared slip dress, Ordinarily. I would have thought it a very pretty outfit, but once again, she looked as if she had bought it before she gained an additional dozen or so pounds.

  "Mother thought this would be appropriate," she said, turning. "What do you think?"

  "Anyone who's worried about clothes at a time like this is a candidate for my father's clinic," I muttered, then rose and went into the bathroom.

  "Well, it just shows respect if you look good. Willow, If I wore a pair of jeans, even designer jeans, it wouldn't be very nice, now, would it?"

  She heard the tinkle, "Are you peeing?" she cried.

  "Voiding urine." I replied.

  "Ugh. Close the door. My goodness, you'd never know we're from the same family." she complained.

  I flushed the toilet and stripped to jump into the shower.

  "Mother sent me up here to tell you your father's accountant and his wife have arrived," she called, "She thinks you should come downstairs. Oh, and your mother's brothers and their wives are coming to the funeral, as well as your cousins Lucille Ann, Merrilou. Branson, and Lance. Isn't Lance the goodlooking one?"

  I didn't reply. I stepped into the shower, which drowned her out, but she didn't stop talking. When I shut off the water and stepped out of the stall, she was in the middle of a sentence, apparently describing some time in the past when she had a crush on my cousin Lance. I wrapped the towel around myself and came out of the bathroom.

  "Weddings and funerals bring families together." she concluded. "They will all be coming to my wedding in three months. I'm sure. We've invited them all, even your mother's relatives,

  "Was there someone you wanted me to invite for you?" she asked, still trying to find out if I had a boyfriend at college.

  "Margaret Selby," I said, turning to her. "I appreciate how much your wedding means to you and how excited you are about it, but believe me when I tell you. I can't think about anything but the fact that the day after tomorrow. I'll be burying my father beside my mother in the cold ground of the cemetery."

  She stared at me a moment and then burst into tears. "I was only trying to keep you from thinking about it I didn't mean my wedding was more important than your father. I'm sorry. I--"

  "Margaret,"

  She turned and rushed out of my bedroom. I stared after her a moment and then turned to my closet to find something appropriate to wear. too. Daddy would tell me I was being too harsh on her. I'm sure. He had the amazing ability to look at everything from the other person's perspective. If I hoped to be anywhere nearly as successful as he was. I thought. I'd better learn how to do that better than I could at the moment.

  I dressed and went downstairs, Aunt Agnes was holding court in the living room, sitting in the highback Victorian chair and looking like the queen she thought she was. Daddy's accountant. Lester McRae, who also handled the clinic's books, was. as Margaret Selby had told me, there with his wife. From the way he looked, however. I had the sense he had been summoned. When I entered, the conversation abruptly halted. His wife greeted me first with a hug, and then he took my hand and offered his condolences,

  It was such a shock to hear it," he said. "I want you to know I'll be available to help you through anything as soon as you require it. I have all the information you need about the estate, the trusts..."

  "Thank you," I said quickly.

  Your father was a yen- organized man."

  "I know." I said. "I appreciate what you're saying, but I'm not ready to talk about those things."

  I looked at Aunt Agnes, who obviously was. For the moment, pragmatism, even my father's, seemed like the enemy of love, of caring. Everyone deserved to be mourned properly, at least by the people who cherished him or her, I thought.

  "These are very serious matters. Willow.," Aunt Agnes declared.

  "I know that, but a funeral for my father is pretty serious business. too. Aunt Agnes."

  No one is saving it isn't. but--"

  "Thank you. And thank you for your concerns, Mr. McRae," I said sharply and decisively, closing the door on any further discussion.

  Mr. McRae glanced at his wife, who looked as if she had advised him against coming to the house with this purpose in mind and now was nodding her "I told you so." He stepped back, a little embarrassed at his eagerness to do his fiscal duty. Fortunately, the ungraceful silence was quickly filled by the arrival of other people who wanted to offer their condolences, people who were closer to my father, dear friends and associates.

  Aunt Agnes's arrangements did seem

  appropriate, however. I was happy that everything was organized, Margaret Selby reappeared, her eyes bloodshot from crying over my outburst. Everyone mistook that for her sorrow over my father's death, and she quickly accepted it and talked about how sad she was. I shook my head, smiling to myself and thinking that Daddy would remind me how much of a child she still was and how that was really all Aunt Agnes's fault.

  About an hour later. Mr. Bassinger appeared with his wife, Thelma. After greeting my aunt and Margaret Selby, he hugged me and asked if he and I could excuse ourselves and speak privately for a few moments. Under Aunt Agnes's suspicious eyes, we left the gathering and went to my father's office. He carried the large manila envelope he had described on the phone.

  For a moment, we both stood there, staring at his desk.

  "I am having trouble believing he is gone. Willow. He had such a presence, such a powerful presence. When I came in just now. I really expected he would be sitting here, smiling at us, wondering what all the fuss was about, and demanding to know who all those people were out there."

  "I know." I said. smiling.

  He stared a moment more and then took a deep breath and turned to me. "I wouldn't burden you with any sort of legal information so soon if it wasn't for his forceful insistence that I get this to you as quickly as possible after his death. He wasn't often so emphatic about any of his instructions. You know how even-tempered a man he was.

  "Anyway, here it is," he said, handing me the envelope. "I was told to give it to you and add only the following instructions: read it when you have a quiet moment, and be sure to read it in strict privacy. He underscored the privacy part."

  I looked at the envelope. It was very thick.

  "How long have you had this in your vault, Mr. Bassinger?"

  "He gave it to me about six months or so after he had brought you home to live with him a
nd your mother," he replied.

  "You've had this for nearly nineteen years?"

  He nodded. "I left a note on it myself instructing my partner to return it to your father in the event of my death. which I really expected would predate his. We joked about it often, but he was far more clairvoyant than I knew, apparently," he said, tears coming to his eyes.

  We hugged, and I put the envelope in Daddy's desk drawer before I accompanied Mr. Bassinger back to the living room and all the people who had arrived. I would have to wait a while longer to see what was in the envelope. I thought, but it was never far from my thoughts over the next few hours. All that time. I saw how my aunt was studying me, craning her neck in a birdlike way at times to watch for any communication between me and Mr. Bassinger,

  When Mr. and Mrs. Bassinger left, he whispered. "Call me if there is anything you need to know as a result of you-know-what," he said.

  I thanked him. After another hour, the last guest departed. Aunt Apes, still very curious, pounced.

  "What is it Mr. Bassinger wanted that couldn't wait another day or so?" she demanded.

  "We're arranging to do what has to be done." I answered cryptically.

  "I thought you were still too raw with sorrow for any of that. Isn't that what you told Mr. McRae?" she pointed out. stabbing me with her hard.

  penetrating gaze.

  "Thank you for all you've done. Aunt Agnes." I said with a smile. "We all had better get some rest." I added as if I hadn't heard her comment.

  Margaret Selby was already closing her eyes.

  I turned and left them both in the living room. When I entered Daddy's office, I closed the door behind me and snapped the lock. Then I went to his desk and, for the first time, sat in his chair. I opened the drawer and put the envelope on the desk. For a long moment. I just stared at it All the preparations. the instructions, had frightened me a bit. What did this envelope contain?