A Hero's Homecoming

by Havel, Carlene;

  As they waited, Rich announced out of the blue, “The bash is set for Friday.”

  “Bash?” Charlotte asked.

  “The Philippine feast, for Scott and Amy.”

  “That’s so nice of you, Rich. Friday is perfect,” Charlotte said.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he admitted. “I love hosting a crowd.” Rich’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” His voice trailed behind him. “Hello. Yes.” Charlotte leafed through a magazine.

  Rich returned smiling broadly. “You’ll never believe who that was,” he challenged her.

  Charlotte ventured, “The NFL Commissioner. He wants you to take his job.”

  “Even better.” Rich smiled expansively. “It was Rita.” He stared into space for a long moment.

  “Are you all right, Rich?”

  “I’m trying to translate what she said into polite language.” He grinned. “It may not be possible. She suggested I perform an unnatural act and refrain from interfering further in her life unless I want to undergo a primitive form of emasculation at her hands,” he explained. “I sent a message I would buy her a plane ticket if she wanted out of Fort Riley.”

  “That was very kind of you.”

  “Rita didn’t think so. Poor, impulsive Rita.” He shook his head. “The day after our divorce was final, she married that boyfriend of hers. The one who beat her up. Goodbye, frying pan. Hello, fire.”

  Charlotte asked even though she knew it was none of her business. “Does it bother you that she remarried so quickly?”

  “I’m crushed,” he said happily. “My poor broken heart may never mend.” His beaming face contradicted his words. “Great little gadget.” He held up his cell phone, before slipping it into his pocket. “Caller ID, voice mail, conferencing, call forwarding, camera, internet, GPS, the works.”

  “Dr. Phillips? Mr. Martino? Mr. McClain is ready for you,” the receptionist intoned smoothly. Rich whistled as they walked down the hall.

  Jerry’s office looked like a well-appointed living room. Diffused sunlight slanted in from an atrium garden filled with tropical plants. The furniture consisted of tasteful sofa sections and tables grouped around Persian area rugs. Bookshelves and a Queen Anne desk angled in one corner were the only hints work might take place in this luxurious room. Jerry sat on a sofa section. He motioned Charlotte and Rich to the facing couch. “Forgive me for not getting up, Charlotte. These old bones are weary.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte replied and then added warmly, “It’s good to see you, Jerry.”

  “Junior,” Jerry acknowledged Rich briefly.

  “Jerry,” Rich reciprocated.

  “What’s on you youngsters’ minds?” Jerry asked.

  Rich wasted no time getting to the point. “I need to be responsible for my dad. This arrangement is not fair to Charlotte. I appreciate everything she has done, but it’s my job.”

  Jerry’s expression was unreadable. “Do you agree, Charlotte?”

  “Absolutely,” she said and went on to explain. “It’s not that I mind helping. I would do anything for Dick, but the right to make choices on his behalf should be Rich’s.”

  “Medical decisions are only part of it,” Jerry said. “What about the money management?”

  “I should not have control of Dick’s money, other than the charitable trust. And Rich could take that over, too, if he wants,” Charlotte said.

  “I hadn’t thought beyond who might have to make the decision to pull the plug,” Rich admitted. “What else are we talking about?”

  “Somebody has to pay Dick’s bills, the lawn care service, housekeeper, utilities, pool maintenance, rent at Altoville—upkeep.” Jerry coughed noisily. “There’s a refrigerator around that corner. Anybody else want something cool to drink?”

  Charlotte sprang to her feet. “I’ll get it.” She returned with three bottles of cold water.

  “There’s no reason I can’t take over the household maintenance,” Rich said.

  “And the philanthropic trust.” Jerry looked accusingly at Charlotte. “The administrator’s fees have not been collected and my staff tells me there’s a five thousand dollar discrepancy.”

  Charlotte searched for the right words. “I could explain that. Perhaps later, privately.”

  Jerry folded his hands across his ample stomach. “Sure. What’s five thousand dollars, anyway?”

  “I’d like to know what happened.” Rich stared at Charlotte. She looked flustered. He refused to believe she would be dishonest. There had to be more to this situation than met the eye.

  Charlotte began slowly. “I haven’t collected the administrator’s fees because I haven’t administered anything.” She cleared her throat. “As for the five thousand dollars, Dick put so much money aside for good works, it seemed only right...that is...Well, I could never match what he’s contributed, but I thought I could add my little hill to his mountain.” Her last statement was almost inaudible. “I didn’t think anyone would know.”

  Rich felt tension flowing out of his body. “The five thousand dollars is an overage?”

  “Of course,” Jerry replied smugly. “What did you think?” A frown inched its way across his gnarled face.

  Rich spoke without emotion. “You can jerk me around if you want to, Jerry. Don’t mess with Charlotte.” He and Jerry locked in a stare.

  Charlotte broke the strained silence. “I’ve identified candidates for the initial trust payout. I’ll give the list to Rich and he can decide what he wants to do.”

  Jerry leaned back and crossed his legs. “Things may not be as simple as you two think.”

  “I don’t understand why not,” Charlotte countered. “The documents I used at the bank and the hospital were limited powers of attorney. If Dick could designate me to have those powers, why can’t I delegate the same authority to Rich?”

  Jerry took a sip of water. “I suppose that might work. Okay with you, Junior?”

  “I don’t care how you do it,” Rich said. “As long as you get the responsibility off her shoulders and onto mine.” He turned to Charlotte. “I insist you accept the administrator fees. Please don’t fight me on this.”

  “All right,” she said slowly. Suddenly Charlotte brightened. “Jerry, could you have the check made out to Anita Waltham, my administrative assistant? She’s done a lot of work on Dick’s affairs. It would be wonderful to give her a nice bonus.”

  “Ah, the incomparable Anita.” Jerry said. “I’ll let you know when I have the paperwork ready to be signed. It may take a week or so. Business has been booming lately.”

  “Come on, Jerry,” Rich said impatiently. “In a week’s time you could ram a bill through the Texas legislature. How long can it take for a couple of standard forms and a check? You could have everything done this afternoon if you wanted to.” Rich believed Jerry was honest because Dick had always trusted him. Still, he knew how deviously the old man could maneuver while remaining technically within the confines of the law. Rich suspected Jerry was up to some monkey business. But what?

  Jerry went into a lengthy coughing spasm. “All right, Junior. I’ll have to throw my weight around. Come back at five. I’ll have everything ready.”

  Rich raised an eyebrow in Charlotte’s direction. She nodded.

  “We’ll be here,” he said.

  As they passed the reception desk, Rich said, “There’s no point in hanging around here for two and a half hours. Let’s go to the River Walk. We can take a stroll and relax.”

  Charlotte glanced at her watch.

  “We can discuss your list of charitable causes,” he added.

  Charlotte’s resistance fell away. “I haven’t been to the River in a long time.”

  “Don’t let me forget the name of this parking lot,” Rich joked as he eased the silver sports car into a space. Hundreds of private parking lots dotted San Antonio’s downtown area and they all shared the same name.

  They walked down a staircase leading fro
m a busy city street to the different world at the level of the San Antonio River Walk. The impersonal commerce of the city melted away into the genial atmosphere of an old world promenade. Restaurants and small shops lined wide walkways that paralleled both sides of the meandering river. Trees blocked the sun’s heat. Lovers strolled hand in hand. Tourists and locals lingered at sidewalk cafes.

  Rich and Charlotte walked for a few minutes, enjoying the ambiance. “I don’t come here enough,” Charlotte reflected. “I forget how much I love the river.”

  “How about something cool to drink?” Rich motioned toward an empty table shaded by a huge oak tree.

  A waiter appeared from nowhere. Charlotte asked for a wine cooler. Rick ordered lemonade.

  “You drink wine?” he asked with surprise.

  “I’m not driving, won’t be for hours,” she replied. “Oh, you mean because I’m a Christian. Well, Jesus’ first miracle was making wine from water.”

  “Do you think it was real wine?” Rich asked earnestly.

  Charlotte smiled. “Some people claim it was some kind of non-alcoholic beverage and they’re entitled to their belief. The Bible says wine. I believe He made, and drank, the real thing. Not that He ever drank excessively or got drunk.”

  “I’ve been avoiding alcohol,” Rich said pensively. “I thought it might be wrong.”

  “It might be wrong, for you. You’re going to find lots of things sincere Christians disagree about. Some churches tell you how to put your shoes on every morning. Our Fellowship is not like that. You’ll have to study and pray and work out those details for yourself.”

  Rich eyed Charlotte’s wine cooler as the waiter set their drinks before them, along with crisp tortilla chips and salsa. “Maybe that’s why there are different denominations like Lutherans and Presbyterians.”

  “You’re probably right,” she said. “The crucial requirement is to believe in Christ and his teachings.” She took a handwritten list from her handbag and laid it on the table. “My ideas,” she said, tapping the list. “Take them or leave them. No problem either way.”

  Rich read the list. “This is fabulous,” he said. “I particularly like the water purification system for Raul and Rosa Luna’s mission. How did you ever think of that?”

  “I didn’t.” Rich’s approval made her heart race. “I asked the Lunas to tell me their single most pressing big ticket need.”

  “Que bueno.”

  “Kay?” she asked.

  Rich studied Charlotte. “Don’t tell me you’ve lived your whole life in San Antonio and you don’t speak Spanish?”

  “Okay. I won’t tell you.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I think you know.”

  “You admit you’re a Dallas Cowboys fan and then you tell me you don’t know Spanish,” he said in mock horror. “I give cheap lessons.”

  Charlotte didn’t take the bait. “I think the foreign language part of my brain is missing,” she said ruefully. “I took French in college and I wasn’t any good at it.”

  “Why French?”

  “I had some crazy idea a knight in shining armor would sweep me off to Paris.” Remembering that foolish dream put a smile on her face. “We would bicycle through the French countryside, eat cheese, drink wine, converse with the natives. I hadn’t thought about that in years.” She took another sip of her drink, then quickly dismissed the impractical recollection of her youth. “Rich, I’m sorry about the five thousand dollars. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  He put his hand on hers and withdrew it quickly. “Don’t be ridiculous. What you did was perfectly right, even though Jerry tried to make it sound otherwise.” Rich reflected on the meeting with Jerry. “There was a time when I would have gone ballistic when he said the word ‘discrepancy’, without waiting for any explanation. That old buzzard was trying to derail our meeting. What is he up to?”

  “It’s odd you would say that,” Charlotte replied. “I had the same feeling. He delayed having this meeting and it seemed like he was trying to drag out the paperwork.”

  Rich used his straw the stir the ice remaining in his glass. “Do you have a copy of my Dad’s will?”

  “Yes. I brought it today in case we needed it during the meeting.” She dug in her purse.

  “May I look at it?” he asked

  Charlotte handed Rich the thick document. The will was still sealed in the envelope prepared by Jerry’s office the day she met Dick there. “I must confess I haven’t read through it. So much has been going on.”

  Rich read while Charlotte finished her drink. He folded the will and put it back in the envelope. “That son of a… I tell you, Charlotte...” Rich banged the table. “Cussing is a hard habit to break.”

  “I know,” she said. “It takes time.”

  “How would you know? You never swore in your life.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, but I used to be a real potty mouth. I still slip up occasionally,” she said. “Habits take work to break. What did you read that has you so excited?”

  “Do you mind walking some more?” Rich asked. “I think better on my feet.”

  As they strolled, Rich pointed to a paragraph in the will. “Read this,” he said, “and tell me what it you think it means.” Rich picked up a handful of small stones and skipped them one by one into the river as Charlotte concentrated on the words of Dick’s will.

  “It says the estate goes to the decedent’s son, if living. If not...” Charlotte stopped and looked at Rich. “Everything goes to you. I have some authority and responsibility only if you are dead and your daughters are under the age of twenty-one.”

  Rich lobbed a stone into the water. “I know Jerry’s up to something, but I can’t imagine what it is. I’ve known that old coot half my life and my gut tells me he is not trying to cheat me. If that was his game, you wouldn’t be in the picture.”

  Charlotte continued reading. “At least the charitable trust is in here.”

  “Dad and Jerry had some strange dealings over the years, like the time Dad airmailed him a Scottish kilt, tartan, and bagpipe over some golf bet. Maybe it’s not about the will specifically, could be one of their weird sidebars.” Another rock hit the water.

  “I still don’t see the point.” Charlotte admitted.

  “Nope. Nothing adds up. Let’s do this.” Rich tossed the last rock. “We’ll play it cool until we get the papers signed this afternoon. Then Jerry’s going to give me some answers whether he likes it or not.”

  There was little conversation as they drove back to the law office. Charlotte knew she could hold her own in a verbal confrontation. Still, it would be reassuring to have massive shoulders and stand six-feet-five inches tall when calling someone to account.

  She marveled at Rich’s calmness. When the last document was signed and notarized, he turned to Jerry and said in a very pleasant, conversational tone, “Okay, McClain, the game’s over. I read the will. Time to fess up, buddy.”

  Jerry dissolved into a coughing fit. Rich waited patiently with folded arms. The notary skulked away.

  “You two in the same car?” Jerry asked between coughs.

  “Separate,” Rich replied tersely.

  “Why don’t you drive me home, Junior?” Jerry asked weakly. “We can do some catching up and have a long heart-to-heart.”

  Rich turned to Charlotte. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.” She was consumed with curiosity, but this was really between Rich and Jerry.

  Rich stood. “Let’s go.”

  Charlotte hoped Rich would phone later and let her know what Jerry told him. He didn’t call.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rich must have invited a few hundred of Scott and Amy’s closest friends, Charlotte thought as she searched for a parking place near the Martino house. Someone she didn’t know answered the door and invited her in. A group of ten or twelve people including Lottie, Martha, Jerry and Ernestine Longoria lounged in the big family room, talking about the consortium that wanted to raze the old theater.
Whatever had transpired between Rich and Jerry obviously hadn’t excluded the attorney from the guest list. In the kitchen, a short, dark woman directed traffic. Waiters carried trays of food in and out. Most of the crowd was in the backyard. A loaded buffet table curved around two sides of the pool.

  “Charlotte!” It was Rich’s voice, but she couldn’t spot him in the crowd. Suddenly he was at her side. “Come meet some people.” He took her hand and guided her through the crowd.

  Charlotte found Dr. and Mrs. Garcia, from Manila, to be a charming couple. Dr. Garcia taught tropical medicine at the University of Texas Medical Sciences Center in San Antonio under an international exchange program. The Garcias agreed they liked Texas, but looked forward to going home next year. “We are homesick and miss our family terribly,” Dr. Garcia explained.

  Lottie bumped into Charlotte and suggested they get some food. Chris had been through the buffet line twice, but decided to join them for a third round. Each dish was neatly labeled with a Philippine name. “Everything is delicious,” Chris commented as they found an empty table and sat near the pool.

  Charlotte asked, “Did Rich do all this cooking?”

  “One person couldn’t possibly make enough to feed this army.” Lottie waved her fork around. “There must be three hundred people here.”

  Charlotte decided the woman she had seen in the kitchen must be the caterer.

  “Scott said he’s spoken personally with more of the senior medical staff tonight than he’s seen in the last six months at the hospital,” Chris said as he helped himself to an egg roll from Lottie’s plate.

  Lottie yelped. “Get your own food!”

  Chris pushed the last of the egg roll into his mouth. “Scott also said Amy was going to be really upset when she finds out he had to promise their firstborn child in exchange for a Friday night off.” He wiped his fingers on a paper napkin and surveyed his mother and grandmother’s plates. “I’m glad I chose computers instead of medicine.”

  “With your grades,” Lottie reminded him, “medical school was never an option.”

  Chris grinned. “Grandma, you know you wouldn’t trade me for a dean’s list scholar.”