Bad Heiress Day

by Allie Pleiter

  They laughed. Kate could always make her laugh. And oh, how many times they had laughed with wet lashes in the past months. She was a lifeline.

  “Yep. Right behind our own brand of chocolate-covered graham crackers.”

  “What? And put the Keebler elves out of work? That’d be heartless.”

  Later that night, Darcy found Jack in the dining room, Craig Palmer’s brown booklet spread open before him. Jack had his laptop open to his left, a stack of scratch paper to his right and a pile of Monopoly money spread out in front of him. Darcy leaned against the doorway, the school sweatshirt she had picked up off the steps still in her hands, and took in the amusing picture. Jack was being Jack. Running numbers. She was always amazed at how fast he could work a numeric keypad—it was like typing for him, instantaneous and as quick as his thoughts. Over the years, she had come to love the tic-tic of Jack’s hands over a calculator—or lately a keyboard—as he worked through his numbers. Jack. Solving. Finding order. Analyzing. Securing.

  The Monopoly money, though, was a new twist. She walked into the room and picked up a pink five-dollar bill. “Visual aids?”

  Jack didn’t even look up. He gave a grunt of sorts, that universal male signal for “I know you’re in the room,” but it was clear he hadn’t heard a word.

  “Do not pass Go, do not collect one million dollars?”

  Grunt. Tic-tic-tic.

  “Jack?” Pause. “Jack!”

  “Hmm?” Jack blinked and looked up, pushing his glasses back up from where they’d slid down his nose.

  Darcy folded the sweatshirt over one of the tall backs of the dining room chairs. She leaned over the chair, gesturing toward the sloppy piles of play money. “What’s with the Monopoly money?”

  Jack blinked again, as if he hadn’t quite understood the question. Then, as if he had just come back from Imaginary Number Land, he suddenly became aware of his surroundings. “Oh, that.”

  “What’s up?”

  “The kids were playing in here earlier. I just pushed it aside so I could work.”

  Darcy laughed. It was just like her to create connections, draw relationships when none were really there. To assume a simple mess was a premeditated strategy. But it was funny to see Jack crunching numbers surrounded by imaginary millions.

  And millions that were all too real.

  She pulled out the chair and sat down, collecting beige one-hundred-dollar bills into a pile. “So what do you think?”

  Jack took off his glasses. “Palmer’s good. He’s on top of things. There’s a lot of intricacies to this, and he seems to know his way around them. Plus, anyone who handles Ed’s portfolio has to be top-notch, I’d imagine.”

  “He looks like he’d be Ed Bidwell’s finance guy.”

  Jack grinned. “One of four. Can you imagine? Having a finance staff? No wonder the guy drives the car he does.”

  Darcy tapped the pile of bills into a neat stack. “Jack, you’re drooling.”

  “Am not.” He put his glasses back on, then shot her a playful look. “But the thought has occurred to me. Who knew I married into money?”

  “Little Orphan Heiress is not amused. In fact, she’s considering beaning you with her tiara at this very moment.”

  “Hey, watch out. My finance guys can beat up your finance guys.”

  “Your finance guys are my finance guys. And they’re not even our guys yet, Jack.”

  Jack’s face took on a serious look. “They should be.”

  Darcy folded her arms. She was coming to the very same conclusion. She liked Craig. Craig’s solution sounded just too good to be true. Were they taking Dad’s last request and twisting it to their own liking? Or was it just that Craig could see more clearly, unencumbered by all the emotional baggage of grief? She’d pored over the brown booklet herself the past few days, and it seemed to make such sense. Trouble was, she didn’t trust her concept of sensible when it came to the subject. “I do like him,” she offered, “and he seems to make sense. But doesn’t it feel just a little too good to be true? Too easy.”

  “Well, I don’t think I’d call it easy,” Jack replied. “This is some complicated management. He can see more possibilities because of his skills. And he of all people knows the work involved in managing—and in giving away—that kind of money. You and your dad, you both have all kinds of emotional issues tied up in this money. Craig’s objective. He can see things differently.”

  Darcy ran her hands through her hair and blew out a breath. “I suppose. I don’t know why I’m hesitating.”

  Jack closed down the spreadsheet program and shut off his laptop. “Your being on staff for The Project means that not only will you be seeing to the needs of this family, but you’ll be taking the time and energy to make sure your dad’s wishes come true. So much good can come out of something so regrettable. I think that’s exactly how Paul would have wanted it. I mean, really, if your dad was in the office with Craig and you and me, what do you think he’d say?”

  “Don’t you see, that’s just it? I thought I knew him. I thought I knew everything about him. Now I discover these big huge things that he kept from me. I don’t know how to answer that question anymore.”

  “You know, it would be ideal if we could find out why your dad did this. Why he didn’t feel he could touch that money.” Jack pulled his papers into a neat stack. “We’re all just guessing at why he didn’t touch it and didn’t tell you. And I don’t think his letter clears it up much, either. If you knew that, it might tell you what he’d do now in your shoes.” He held the papers still for a moment and looked at her, his face intent and serious. “But…”

  “But what?”

  “You may never get to know, Dar. I mean, really, there’s no one to ask. Pastor Doug doesn’t seem to know, most of your dad’s friends didn’t know, your mom’s gone, Aunt Jenny’s downright dangerous. There’s no one left to ask. Face it, Dar, there may be no way to find that out. Ever. We need to think this through with what we’ve got here and now, because I think we may never know the why of it.”

  Jack was absolutely right. And that was an awful thought. “I hate that I don’t know. I hate that he kept this from me. I—I’m trying really hard to let it go, but I can’t forgive him for that yet.” The emotion welled up in Darcy, grabbing at her throat with greedy fingers. “I don’t know what it’s going to take to let it go.”

  Jack stood up and came behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head before he let his chin rest there. “Time, I suppose.”

  “Why, Jack? What would possess him to do something so strange?” She let the tears come, unable to stem the pain that seemed to come up from out of nowhere. “Why would he think of that money as so evil it couldn’t be touched? Who would argue with him deserving it? He lost his wife. I lost my mother. That driver lost control of his car and he hit Mom. It’s not our fault that he wasn’t insured. That money was rightfully Dad’s. There’s so much he could have done, travel, comforts, things he deserved. Why? I want to know why?” Darcy buried her face in Jack’s arms, gripping them as they held her. Try as he might, even sensible Jack would never be able to make sense of this. It would never make sense. Ever.

  “I don’t know,” he said softly, his cheek against her hair. “I don’t think we’ll ever know.” After a while, he added, “So we’ve got to go on without knowing. You and I. We’ve got to work through this together. We don’t know what Paul would do. So we’ve got to decide what Jack and Darcy will do.” He came around on one knee in front of her, stroking her hair. “You could twist yourself inside out, Dar, trying to figure out your dad’s motivations. But if you ask me, it’ll just make you crazy. It’d be better for everyone if you and I just try to decide where to take it from here.”

  It sounded right to Darcy. Jack’s voice had the solid ring of truth. It was a scary thought to think it was all up to her, but it was the truth. Jack was right; she could make herself nuts trying to figure out her dad’s strange re
lationship to that money. She might never know the whole story. And she could either choose to let that eat her alive, or choose to move past it.

  “Look at it this way, Dar. Would Paul have ever come up with The Restoration Project?”

  “Dad?” Darcy sniffled. “Never.”

  “And look what that idea has done so far. You told me yourself the women in the trial run have been really helped by it. That was you, Dar. Your ideas, your way of doing what your dad asked.” He stroked her hair. “Trust yourself to know what to do. Trust yourself to take it from here.” He looked at her as if she could run the world. For the first time, she realized how much The Restoration Project had amazed him. You could see it now, in his eyes, that he believed in it. That he believed in her.

  “I trust you,” she offered, sliding her hand over his.

  “I think we can trust Craig, too. Your Dad loved your creativity, how you connected people together to make something happen. How you made sure the kids always had what they needed. I think he’d give his blessing, if he could.”

  “Maybe he has.” Darcy thought about the Bidwells and Kate and Michelle and Meredith, and each person who had come into her life over the past year. What an astounding, amazing adventure it all had become. What a blessing each person was. “Maybe he has.”

  Jack pulled her up off the chair and wrapped her in his arms. She felt his sure strength seeping into her, melting away the shivers of uncertainty. She pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to his breath, taking in his heartbeat. She closed her eyes and breathed, pulling in the solid air around him. Around them.

  “Jack?” she said quietly.

  “Hmm?” he answered, his chest humming against her cheek.

  “I think Craig’s our guy.”

  “Me too, hon. Me, too.”

  Chapter 28

  The Virtues of Kooky But Amazing

  Glynnis clasped her hands together in utter joy when Darcy told her about Michelle. “I knew it, I just knew it. Darcy honey, I’m not surprised at all. When did you hear?”

  “Yesterday. We met at the center to go over the final recipients. Norene McDylan’s kids were just fine and her husband even got in a round of golf during the day. Norene said he hadn’t played for two years. I wouldn’t be surprised if we come up with some sort of Restoration Project Men’s Auxiliary someday.”

  “Oh, don’t let Ed hear you say that! That sounds like just the sort of thing he’d get all excited about. Me, I’m so excited about Michelle Porter that I can hardly stand it.” She poked Darcy in the arm. “See? See what God can do when you’re willing to go into the scary places?”

  “Yeah, yeah, exceeding my expectations, I get it, Glynnis. It’s just that I’m knee-deep in scary places. I keep trying to tell God I’ve developed all the character I can stand at one time.”

  Glynnis laughed. “Oh, I’ve tried that one, too. God doesn’t seem to pay much attention to that one.”

  “No kidding.”

  Glynnis added more cookies to the plate. “A little bird told me Jack was very impressed with our man Craig. I’ve always liked that boy.”

  Darcy had to laugh. Craig Palmer must have been in his late fifties to say the least. Boy was hardly the term that came to mind. “He had lots of ideas.”

  Glynnis must have caught the hesitation in her voice, for she arched an eyebrow up over her glasses at Darcy. “A bit too many ideas perhaps? What’d he say?”

  Darcy took a long sip of iced tea, fighting the sudden secrecy that sprung up. Money was private. But then again, no, her openness about money is what made Glynnis so wonderful. It didn’t seem to have that power over her that it did over so many people. Money never seemed to complicate Glynnis’s life—even the gobs and gobs of it Darcy suspected she and Ed had. No, Glynnis was just the person to confide in over money.

  “Craig thinks Dad’s estate can be invested to give more return. Enough to create a charitable foundation and do lots of projects, not just The Restoration Project. And it could provide a salary for me as a staff person as well. ‘Everybody wins,’ as he put it.”

  Glynnis stared at her. “I’m waiting for the downside, honey. I’m not hearing one.”

  “Don’t you see?” replied Darcy, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. How could Glynnis see everything so simply? “That’s going beyond Dad’s request. He asked us to give it away. Now Craig is suggesting that I take a salary from the money to help give it away. It’s not the same thing.”

  “I agree. I think it’s better.”

  Why did Darcy just know Glynnis would see this without conflict?

  “But it’s not what Dad asked.”

  Glynnis jumped on that, pointing her finger at Darcy. “Ah, right there’s an important point. He didn’t demand you do this, did he? He asked. I remember thinking the wording you told me sounded mighty deliberate. If Paul had wanted to make sure you did things in some exact way, he could have put it in his will, couldn’t he?”

  For some reason, that simple fact had never occurred to Darcy. Her dad could have made it a requirement of the estate. But he didn’t. She’d never thought of that before.

  “Would you characterize—” her Southern accent pulled the word out into long, rich vowels “—your daddy as a rigid man?”

  Darcy laughed. Paul Hartwell could change his mind in a heartbeat. Her impulsive nature didn’t materialize out of thin air—no, it was in her very DNA to pounce on a new idea.

  Pounce on a new idea.

  He would. Dad loved new ideas, new ways of doing things.

  Which is why he left it up to her.

  “No,” Darcy replied, her voice hushed with the clarity of this new realization. “Not at all.”

  Glynnis seemed to be right there beside her thoughts. “And was Paul the kind of man who went where God led him? Even if it was, shall we say, unusual?”

  “Yes. Always.”

  “Well, honey, what makes you think he wouldn’t want the same for you? He’s handed you a grand adventure, Darcy girl, why are you so afraid to go on it?”

  You know, there just wasn’t a good answer for that question. Darcy opened her mouth, then shut it again, unable to refute the simple truth in what Glynnis said. The woman simply smiled—her sunshine, butterscotch, come-on-over-here-and-hug-me smile—and squeezed Darcy’s hand. God must delight in her, Darcy thought; His joy is just oozing out of every one of Glynnis’s pores.

  “You’re amazing, Glynnis. How many other women have you helped like this? How many Henhouse alumni are there?”

  Glynnis’s smile widened. “Eleven.”

  “I think I’d like to meet some of them.”

  “You can meet all of them. We have lunch the third Wednesday of every month. I’ve been praying for weeks now for God to show me the right time to invite you.”

  Darcy grinned. “Sounds like now’s the time. And I’ve been thinking about church, too. I think we’d like to start coming to Ohio Valley.”

  Glynnis fairly sparkled, putting her hands on her chubby little hips. “No time like the present. Come Sunday! And bring that feisty redheaded friend of yours with you.”

  “Kate?” Darcy sputtered.

  “Yes, Kate. Quite a looker, that Kate. I wouldn’t want her sitting beside me at the hotel pool—these old girls might hardly measure up.” The woman shifted her bosom and winked at Darcy, who practically choked on her cookie. “’Course, like Ed always says, ‘It ain’t what you got, it’s how you use it.’” She elbowed Darcy, who willed her mouth shut from its current fishlike position. Only Glynnis Bidwell could invite you to church and flaunt her abundant figure in the same paragraph. Why on earth had she ever thought Glynnis and Kate wouldn’t get along? They were both bold-hearted women who liked stirring up a bit of trouble.

  I need to get me some normal friends, Darcy thought to herself.

  “I’ve thought about coming to Ohio Valley for weeks,” Darcy admitted, and it was the truth. “I’m just not sure Jack is ready.”


  “Have you asked him?” Glynnis said, as though this were a simple question.

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Darcy started.

  “No, it’s not. Don’t go making it all complicated. Just tell Jack the reasons you’d like to go, and ask him what he thinks. Honestly, you young people talk about sex quicker than you talk about God.”

  “Glynnis!”

  “Darcy Nightengale, Ed and I want to take Jack and you to brunch after service on Sunday. The kids can come, too. Service starts at nine-thirty. You coming or not?”

  “I guess we’re a-comin, ma’am,” Darcy conceded. “Unless Jack has objections.”

  “Oh, I doubt Jack will have objections.”

  Now Darcy’s hands went to her hips. “And why is that?”

  “’Cause Ed asked Jack earlier this morning over the phone at work and Jack already said yes.”

  If Darcy had a white flag, she’d have waved it.

  “Don’t you just think God’s over there in the corner, smiling and saying ‘How do you like them apples, Darcy Nightengale?’”

  “Yeah,” said Darcy slowly, “sure…just like that.”

  Craig Palmer’s office wall was covered in charts. Pie graphs. Bar graphs. Income projection thingies. Annual yield thingies. Adjusted gross income tables. It was a forest of numbers and formulas, and Darcy was struggling to take it all in. Craig and Jack had been bantering back and forth in energetic accountantese for the last fifteen minutes, their mutual excitement reaching almost amusing levels.

  “Darcy,” said Craig, taking in what must have been the baffled expression on her face. “I’d bet you’d like this in English.”

  “I don’t know,” retorted Darcy, “you guys look like you’re having way too much fun. I hate to break the mood.” It was fun to watch Jack light up like a Christmas tree at all these charts and figures. This was Jack’s world, Jack’s native tongue.

  “No, really. Let’s break it down into four areas.” Craig picked up the first pie graph. “This is how your father’s estate is currently set up. If we keep it this way, we can expect it to produce this—” he referred to another line graph next to it “—kind of income over the next twenty years. That is, as much as we can guess. No one here has a crystal ball, or we’d be out sailing our yachts instead of here crunching numbers for you. Do you follow so far?”