"I didn't get a chance to tell you last night because we were so involved in the family scandal, but the real estate agents called again and want to bring a prospective buyer here tomorrow. They can't hold the people off any longer, or they will lose the sale."
"Why are you so worried about it. Aunt Agnes? It's mine to give away," I said bluntly,
"Why? Do you think I could sleep nights knowing my father's property was stolen by some smart buyer who took advantage of what's been happening here? It's still the De Beers family estate, isn't it? How you waste the money afterward is not the point. It's a matter of family pride. It doesn't surprise me that you would find such a thing curious. These are old-fashioned ethics. You young people today don't put any value on things that are lasting and true and filled with heritage. Everything is disposable to you."
"That's not true." I said. "At least, it's not true for me. I can't speak for other young people," I added, my meaning sharply clear.
She grunted. "Yes, well, years from now, you'll send me a thank-you note. I'm sure," she concluded, satisfied with herself. She went off to continue supervising, and I went upstairs to prepare myself for Miles's funeral,
Mr. Bassinger was right on time. The first thing he asked was how things had gone between my aunt and me. I described the conversation, especially her reactions. There was a constant small smile on his lips.
"Well. I can't say she isn't doing the right thing sprucing up the place. Willow. This is a very desirable property. I can't see her getting anything from it now, but should something dreadful happen to you. God forbid. I can easily envision her and her clan scratching and clawing their way into it all. It wouldn't be the first family I've seen think about such things and do all they could to ensure their legal rights to inheritances. Greed changes the faces of many relatives when it comes to that."
"I will be healthy and live a long life just to prevent it," I promised him, and he laughed.
"I hope so."
We were the only ones at the funeral parlor's chapel. The minister recited appropriate psalms and spoke about the burdens we all carry through this short life which was often more of a test than a smooth ride. He knew from the things Mr. Bassinger had told him that Miles was devoted to my father, and he praised him for that loyalty and love. I felt as though I were crying for my father as well as myself when the tears began to streak down my cheeks.
We followed the hearse to the cemetery where my father had purchased a plot just for Miles, not far from his own. Afterward, I stopped by his grave to say a prayer and tell him what I had done and how grateful I was that he had left his diary for me so I could have a real mother after all.
It all left me so weak and tired, When I returned home. I ignored the workers and went up to my room to lie down. I slept well into the afternoon. I had little appetite. but I did go down and make myself some toast and tea. By dinnertime, all the workers were gone, and Aunt Agnes appeared, dressed, her bags left at the front door.
"I've done all I can here.," she said. "I have to go home. I've asked the real estate agents to inform me of the offers so I can have my lawyers give you the best advice."
"I have my own advisor and lawyer, Aunt Ames. Don't trouble yourself." I said.
"I don't consider it trouble to look after my family's property," she threw back at me. "What are your plans now?"
"I'm not sure." I said.
Thatcher had still not called, and I was considering returning to college.
"Should the property sell quickly. I will have to see about the furnishings, unless, of course, they are bought along with the house. I want my father's things kept somewhere safe until I have a home of my own."
"You can ship anything to me." she said. "I have room and can keep it for you."
"Thank you," I said. In my mind. I thought if I did. I'd probably not see any of it again.
"I would strongly suggest you call me to discuss any and all decisions from this day forward. Despite finding your so-called real mother, you are still an inexperienced person when it comes to worldly matters."
"I'll muddle through," I said.
She pursed those thin lips into a line of disgust and snapped her head back.
"I should hope you won't have to muddle." she said. "Please don't feel obligated to attend Margaret Selby's wedding," she added. Her voice was hard, her smile faint and sardonic. I had been waiting for something like that. She was terrified I would bring my scandal along and disrupt the festivities.
"I don't view it as an obligation. Aunt Agnes."
"Nevertheless, we.-- I-- realize all the pressure on you now, and certainly Margaret Selby would understand."
"Oh. I imagine she would, once you explain it all to her. Aunt Agnes," I said with a smile to match the cold one she had put on for me.
"Yes. Well, as I said, call me." She paused as she started to turn away and looked back at me again. "What have you done with that diary you claim my brother wrote?"
"It's not a claim; it's a fact," I said.
"Yes, well, where is this document?"
"It's safe with me."
"Who else has read it?"
"No one."
"Well perhaps, if you dispose of it..."
"I'd rather burn the Bible," I said, and she widened her eyes.
"I'm merely frying to help you avoid any more gossip and scandal."
"It's too late." I said. "Get used to it."
She shook her head and then fired her words like bullets. "You're very smug and flippant about all this now, Willow, but in time you'll regret that." she warned. She said it with such authority and certainty I did take a breath. "You have no idea how cruel and vicious people can be when they have an opportunity to destroy someone they envy, believe me. Many people are jealous of me and our family. Don't expect kindness and understanding. It's not as glamorous or as romantic as it seems to you at the moment. It's simply good gossip to mine and to mold into mud. You're a well-to-do young woman, and you will. I hope, pursue a career. None of this will be an advantage when it comes time for you to present yourself in the professional and business world."
She came back toward me, lifting her long, bony finger like a pointer and waving it. "You can mock me now and belittle my advice all you want, but in time, you'll come to see things my way, and you'll regret your behavior."
She paused and gathered her shoulders back, then took a deep breath, narrowed her eves, and continued. "It is the unfortunate burden of mature and experienced people to try to guide the young and then to have to stand by and watch them make foolish errors out of stubbornness or a mistaken value placed on independence. You can spend your life mulling over your regrets, or you can listen and do the right thing and find some contentment.
"Maybe that's not exactly how my brother would speak to you. but I feel in my heart that is what he would mean."
"I'll make my own decisions. Aunt Agnes," I insisted.
Her eyes turned to dark river stones. "Do as you wish," she concluded, throwing up her hand. She turned and marched out of my house.
I heard the door slam behind her. and I was left with the echo of that ringing in my ears and the echo of her warnings and threats lingering in the air.
Now, finally alone. I could sit back and cry. All the people I had loved and who had loved me were gone or far away. My newly discovered mother was overburdened with her sad memories and troubles. Thatcher was now like one of those festive party balloons broken free, drifting in the wind, drifting away.
There was nothing left to do but pack up the memorabilia I cherished in this house and set it aside. The day was fast approaching when I would leave here for good, cast myself out into the same sea as Linden had. I had no idea where the wind would take me, how it would fill my sails, but maybe, like him_. I had little choice but to have faith in something bigger than myself: fate or destiny or some good angel who would smile down on me and not let me drift too far or too dangerously close to the rocks.
Suddenly, it began to r
ain. It grew quickly into a cloud burst, making the house feel damp and chilly as well as dark. The drops tapped on the windows as if nature demanded my attention, reminding me that the world could be cold and cruel and my aunt Agnes's words were not just the warnings of a bitter woman.
Then I heard my father's miniature grandfather clock bong, its sound traveling freely through the empty house, informing me that time was now the magic carpet taking me along, bringing me closer and closer to the answers for the questions.
Who am I?
What will become of me?
Epilogue
.
The couple who came to look at the property
made an offer the day afterward. We began a negotiation, and for that and what followed. I relied heavily on Mr. Bassinger's advice. Two days later, the couple agreed to our counteroffer, and the property was sold. It was to be a fast escrow. It would close in thirty days, and so I had to use that time to decide what I would keep and what I would put in storage. The couple came back to look over the furnishings and decided in the end to take almost everything except Daddy's office furnishings. The wife wanted to brighten it up with much lighter woods. That was fine to me. I envisioned putting it all in my own home someday.
I spent my time going through the attic, marking things I would consign to thrift shops and things I wanted to be placed in storage. I packed Daddy's books and many of my own things in cartons.
I called my mother every day over the next ten days. Linden was finally well enough to be taken home, but he was still in a dysfunctional state of mind, suffering continuous memory loss, especially about what had happened to him. He had no memory of going out in his sailboat and could tell no one what had been the cause of his accident. The doctors told my mother it was not unusual for someone who experienced terrifying trauma to persist in avoiding thinking about it.
"He's very irritable and seems incapable of concentrating on anything. I tried to get him to return to his painting, but all he does is stare at his easel and his paints and pencils. Most of the day is spent sitting and staring at the ocean. He's lost weight. Of course."
"Does he remember me or mention me at all?" I asked.
"No," she said. "I'm sorry."
"He's not the only one who's apparently forgotten me," I complained.
She was silent a moment. "I think Bunny Eaton is working hard on Thatcher, trying to get him involved with this woman or that. I've seen three dinner parties and one afternoon event since you've left, and at each. I've seen young women," she told me.
"Yes, well, good luck to them all."
"I did see Thatcher one day. He came over and asked about Linden, but he was there to talk about something else. really."
"Oh?"
'The Eatons have decided to make an offer on the property and exercise their option. I guess they want to get rid of us enough to buy us out," she said.
"What are you going to do?"
"It's a lot of money. Linden and I could live well someplace else. I am a little worried about how he'll react to that, however, and asked Thatcher to hold off until Linden is stronger and less likely to be negatively affected. The doctors ate," she said.
"What did Thatcher say?"
"He said fine, but I don't think the Eatons will be very patient. Their lease is up in three months, and they either have to buy or extend it."
"You don't have to sell, do you?"
"If I sell, it has to be at the price agreed to. but I don't have to sell. Only I can't keep up the mortgage and the upkeep of the property without their rent or someone's renting it. I'll lose it all in a foreclosure, and they'll get it. anyway. I feel I haven't much choice."
I thought for a moment. Is Thatcher the only attorney you have had?"
"No. There's an older man. Mr, Kasten. He's practically retired. though."
"Do you have any idea about the cost of upkeep?"
"You mean for the whole estate?"
"Yes."
"No, not really. I have an accountant. Leo Ross. I usually just sign what he tells me to sign."
"I want my lawyer to call him and your lawyer and discuss your situation with them. Is that all right?"
"Why?"
"I have an idea." I said. 'let me see about it first. Just let them both know a Mr. Bassinger will be calling them right away, okay?"
"I don't know. I don't like the sound of this," she said. "I don't want you doing anything- that isn't good for you. too. Willow."
"I won't. That's why I have my own attorney. Okay?"
She was silent a moment and then, with some reluctance, agreed.
The moment we ended our conversation. I phoned Mr. Bassinger and told him what I was thinking.
"I'll look into it right away," he promised. ''But I'll warn you now. Willow, if this is an impulsive, illogical thing. I'll tell you and strongly advise you against it, even though it is your real mother with whom were involving you."
"That's what I want you to do," I said. "Okay," he said.
Two days later, he called for me to come to his office.
"I haven't seen the property, of course." he began. "so I have to rely on what I'm being told about it and on what some friends of mine in Palm Beach have told me as well. From what they all say, these people who have an option to buy it at a set price would, it appears, be practically stealing it."
"That's what I suspected," I said.
"On the other hand, your mother couldn't put it up for sale without their having the opportunity to buy it at that price first. It's in their agreement,
understand?"
"So her only option is to keep possession until the present rental agreement and option to buy ran out?"
"Yes." he said. smiling. "You're more of a businessperson than your father was. I think."
"Daddy hated to be bothered with such mundane matters as taxes and mortgages and stocks and bonds. I know. He had no patience for it."
"Well, fortunately for him, and for you, he had very good advisors, an excellent business manager and stockbroker, and now, with the sale of your property... well..."
'Yes?" I said anxiously.
"If you're put on the deed-- in other words, if you get a percentage of the asset-- it could, with the way the real estate market is exploding down there, be a very good investment. You could carry the costs of the property and still be comfortable, as long as you don't get caught up in the Palm Beach lifestyle and spend beyond your means." he warned,
"There's no danger of that." I assured him.
He laughed. "Never say never is my motto, but okay, you understand what I'm saying."
"Yes."
"Is this really what you want to do. Willow? Do you believe it would be the best thing for your mother and your stepbrother and you?"
"I do, and I think-- no. I know for certain-- Daddy would want me to do this. Mr. Bassinger."
"Possibly. He was a great deal more romantic than he let on." he said. He thought a moment, 'Okay, let me explore it all. I'll get back to you in a day or two, and you can make a final decision then." "Thank you."
"These people..." He looked at his papers. "The Eatans... they're not going to be very fond of you, Willow."
"They'll get over it." I said. "They'll pour themselves some champagne, arrange for a party, and spend away their unhappiness. Sadness,
disappointment, and defeat are not permitted there, and anyone caught frowning is immediately arrested by the Fun Police."
He laughed. "Why is it I feel you're doing this with an impish grin on your face. Willow?"
"I can't imagine," I said.
He laughed, and I left his office, feeling excited and optimistic. I couldn't wait to get home and call my mother to tell her what I wanted to do.
"And your lawyer thought this was prudent?" she asked. "More than prudent, a good business decision."
"Is this what you really want. Willow? Because if I thought for one moment that you were doing this out of some sort of pity. or some sort of imagined obligat
ion to your father or to me. I would be very upset."
"It's what I really want," I said definitively. "If it's all right with you, of course."
"How could something as wonderful as this not be all right with me?"
And with Linden?"
-He's not yet ready to consider such questions. I'm afraid," she said sadly.
"He will be I'll be there to help and to bring him back. I know I can do some good."
Every medical student, every psychology student begins to think he or she can practice, diagnose, and prescribe before he or she is truly prepared to do so. I thought the moment after I uttered those words. It underlines the truth behind the old saying that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I knew I shouldn't be making such promises and claims, but I couldn't help it.
"Oh. I believe in you, Willow. Very well," she said after a moment of thought, "Have your attorney do what has to be done and call my accountant. Maybe together we can do battle against all the forces that would destroy us.-
"Yes," I said. smiling, "we can and we will."
I was very excited after speaking with her and immediately called Mr. Bassinger, asking him to get things arranged as quickly as possible.
In the days that followed. I completed the packing and storing of valued family possessions and Daddy's office furnishings, Aunt Agnes called very soon after she had been informed of the sale. I hadn't called her, but she had her spies.
"Why didn't you phone me immediately?" she demanded the moment I said hello,
"Aunt Agnes?" I asked, pretending not to recognize her voice.
"Yes. yes. Well?"
"Call you about what?" I asked, expressing innocence and ignorance.
The estate! How could you not realize what I was asking about?"
"I've had so much on my mind these past days. Aunt Agnes. Please forgive me. And, oh, please tell Margaret Selby that I will not be able to attend her wedding after all. I have to return to Palm Beach for some important business matters."
"What business matters?"
"Oh, just some investments, nothing
glamorous," I said.
"Investments? In what?"
DeBeers 01 Willow Page 32
