“No one enjoys them, Austin.”
Her eldest twin son by three and a half minutes swung around to respond as he paced backwards. “So why go to them?”
Erin swallowed a new wave of tears. “Good question, Travis.”
“Now Erin, really.” John’s warm breath blasted her neck. “Would Jesus want you to hear you say that?” He proceeded to give his offspring a lecture on praising Jesus for giving us eternal life, as if they hadn’t heard the pastor spout the same thing for the last twenty minutes.
Holding her tongue, Erin slipped into the back seat of the limo and curled against the upholstered back. She closed her eyes. Two more hours and I don’t have to see Ellen again until November. Maybe we won’t even celebrate Thanksgiving this year. Too bad I can’t get six months away from John’s newly discovered Jesus-saves Bible-thumping.
*
Ellen eyed her younger sister and family edge into their designated limousine. John leaned in, no doubt whispering loving, encouraging words to Erin and the boys as he positioned the umbrella over them to keep them dry. Robert shot his open and titled it to shield his own shoulders from the menacing drops. Never mind that Erin didn’t bring one. He humphed. “How selfish. She didn’t even have the decency to speak to you.”
You are calling her selfish when your wife has raindrops drifting down her face? Really? “Well, Robert, I didn’t talk with her either.”
He scoffed. “Other than scolding her for her kids’ behaviors as your own mother’s corpse wheeled past. That oozed real class, my dear.” His disgust dripped off his tongue like the sprinkles which filtered through her thickly hair-sprayed coiffure and cascaded down her neck. He flapped his umbrella closed and ducked into the limo as the funeral home attendant held the door open.
Her fist balled. So much for women and children first. Oh, how she wanted to slap his mouth. Instead she quickened her step. “Come on, girls. Get inside before you become drenched.”
When this is over, I’m definitely calling my attorney. I’ll clean out the bank account first. And rack up all the credit cards. Then let’s see how uppity he feels.
All the way to the gravesite she pictured her sister in the other black car. They were probably all holding hands and singing “Kumbaya.” Oh, how she wished Robert could cherish her as John did Erin. Her mother-in-law had it wrong. Money didn’t buy happiness, it stole it.
*
The graveside committal lasted only fifteen minutes. Huddled under a canvas canopy on aluminum fold-out chairs, the immediate family of Marilyn Edwards Ballinger perched—twin girls and their families—to say their final farewells. Erin watched the puddles form near the dirt-clod edges of the six-foot hole. Fake greener-than-grass drapes surrounded it like a large camouflaged mouth poised to swallow her mother. An urge to stand and scream for them to stop lodged in her throat. She wasn’t ready to never see her mother again.
Erin pawed the air for her husband’s hand, but once her fingers found it she received only a quick, tight squeeze before he laid them back in her lap. Evidently Jesus wouldn’t approve of her moment of weakness. She re-crossed her legs and glanced at her cardboard-straight sister and her perfectly postured family. Did Ellen even possess a heart, or had society hardened it to granite? Perhaps she didn’t want any pesky tears ruin her makeup, Heaven forbid.
For a brief moment, Erin wanted to crawl under the fake grass blanket and slip into the hole dug for her mom. If only she could reach through the wall of dirt and touch her dad’s casket in the plot next to them. And stretch her other one up to her mom’s as they lowered it in. Would death take long to consume her as the minuscule amount of oxygen dissipated?
Her lip quivered as she blinked the prohibited thought away. She had Travis and Austin to rear. They’d need her to buffer against their father’s strict fundamentalist discipline, especially through their remaining teen years. Unless, of course she divorced him…no, Jesus would definitely not like that.
*
Two hours later the phone blasted its ring through their hotel room as John zipped the luggage closed. Changed out of their funeral clothes back into their comfortable, normal attire of jeans and t-shirts, the boys sat on the other bed passing a video game back and forth between them.
Erin lifted the receiver, more to stop the vibrating bells from impacting her headache than to discover who called. “Yes?”
“Is this Erin Ballinger Duncan?”
“Uh, yes.” She fingered the fake pearl stud in her left earlobe.
“This is Michael Tate of Faulkner, Faulkner and Tate, your late parents’ attorney. We need to meet you and Ellen today at 5:00 p.m. in our offices. That is when she indicated she could be available. I gather you can be as well?”
“What for?”
“Your mother’s last will and testament had a, well, let’s say a rather unusual stipulation in it.” He released a slight cough through the phone. “We are obliged to carry out her wishes. You and your sister, as well as your spouses, are to pack up the contents of her house immediately. According to her final request, the home is to be donated to the Elmwood Juvenile Correction Center within fifteen days of her funeral so it may become a halfway house for wayward teens.”
Erin plopped her rear end onto the bed to keep her knees from crumpling. “What?” She blankly stared at John who had halted in mid-zip. “But where will we stay? What about the kids?”
The attorney’s professional voice suddenly sounded tunneled as her mind grabbed for his words. “You four will reside in her home. The grandchildren, yours as well as your sister’s, will be flown to Orlando for two weeks accompanied by your Aunt Alice and Uncle Blake. It’s been all arranged. All expenses including any additional clothes or supplies will be supplied through a special fund. They fly out at 3:42 p.m. this afternoon. Please make sure they are waiting in the lobby at 2:00 p.m. A driver will take them to the airport.”
She scrambled for the hotel stationery and pen to scrawl his instructions down with a shaking hand as her wide-eyed husband extended his two in a shrug. “What?” His mouth formed the silent question.
Erin waved his query away and swallowed the residual coffee-flavored bile that shot into her gullet. “I don’t understand.”
“You four will report to your parent’s home tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. sharp and remain there through the next fourteen days. Your hotel room is funded for tonight. Last night as well. All part of your mother’s final wishes. We’ll go over this request in more detail when we meet later this afternoon. Good day, Mrs. Duncan.”
The click vibrated in her ear.
The boys stopped playing the video game when they looked at her. John cocked his eyebrow. Erin opened her mouth but no words came out as she clutched the telephone receiver now humming to be returned to its cradle. It seemed all too incredulous. Fourteen days locked in her parents’ home with her sister and brother-in-law? Much less her holier-than-thou, staunch and unfeeling husband?
No. This had to be a hoax—a sick, cruel joke.
CHAPTER THREE
Ellen drummed her fingers on the arm of the leather sofa in the attorney’s lounge. Robert paced, glancing at his Rolex every ten seconds. The frosted glass door with the firm’s name in gilded letters opened. Her sister and husband entered, dressed in t-shirts and jeans. Erin tugged on her black linen pencil skirt and jacket. Oh, please. Surely they know how to dress appropriately for a meeting with a lawyer.
John stretched out his hand as Erin clutched her shoulder bag. “Robert.”
“John.”
The two men shook clasped fingers with a slight nod. Ellen scooted across the sofa until her hip plastered against the armrest. With a small tilt of her head, she motioned for her sibling to sit. Erin responded with a thin-lipped expression as she perched, feet to the floor, purse on her lap. Their husbands hovered over them, both jingling keys and change in their pockets. The grandfather clock ticked away the seconds, the only other sound in the room other than the receptionist’s nails clic
king on her keyboard at the massive L-shaped mahogany desk in the corner. An antique oriental rug spread over gleaming wood-planked floors. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with tan, hardbound volumes striped in maroon and gold lined the wall on the other side.
All five heads turned when an inner office door opened. A thirty-something gentleman in a charcoal pinstripe suit, matched by a navy and gray striped tie, stepped through. He extended his cuff-linked wrist. “Mr. and Mrs. Longstrum. Mr. and Mrs. Duncan. I’m Joe Browning, Michael Tate’s legal assistant. He is ready to meet with you now.”
Erin and Ellen rose simultaneously as John and Robert returned the man’s greeting. The four traipsed down the hall into a wood paneled office. Erin whispered into her husband’s ear. “This is larger than our living room.”
Ellen scoffed and slid into one of the leather-upholstered side chairs that flanked the attorney’s desk as he rose to greet them. Erin sheepishly took the other chair. Their husbands stood behind them uncertain if they were assigned to the sofa a few feet away under a painted fox hunting scene in a sculptured, gilded frame. Two wing chairs in forest green, burgundy and tan striped fabric flanked it, an oval mahogany coffee table in between.
Mr. Tate motioned to his underling. “Joe, grab two chairs from the conference room for the gentlemen.” He perched on the edge of his desk. “Anyone care for coffee? Water?”
Ellen readjusted her position. “Sparkling water. No ice, twist of lemon for us.”
*
Erin widened her eyes to keep from rolling them. By “us” Ellen obviously meant she and her husband. With legs crossed and her torso twisted away, she barely acknowledged Erin’s presence seated beside her. When Mr. Tate’s gaze turned to Erin she squeaked. “Diet cola?”
Tate nodded.
John cleared his throat. “Water for me.” He patted his lower back. “God’s natural drink. Better for the kidneys.”
Erin felt the heat rise up her chest into her cheeks.
The attorney smiled and clicked his intercom button. “Did you get that, Miss Wilson?”
The sound of keyboard clicking halted. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
Tate returned to his desk and opened a portfolio file. “Now, shall we go over the late Mrs. Marilyn Edwards Ballinger’s final request in more detail?”
Ellen coughed into her fist. “We request a copy be scanned and e-mailed to our own attorney, James Lester of Jacobs, Lester and Jacobs. Until then, we will wait in the comfort of our hotel room.” She began to rise.
Mr. Tate peered over his readers. “Already done this morning.” He flipped through the top three papers. “Here is his approval.” He held up the document. Joe Browning, who’d returned with chairs for the spouses, reached for it and handed it to Ellen.
She snatched it from his hand. “I see.”
Erin dashed a wide-eyed glare to her husband now seated next to her. He narrowed his focus on her as if to warn her not to comment. She gave her head a small wag and picked at a polish-chipped fingernail.
A rustle of paper meant that Ellen and Robert had perused the letter from their lawyer. They passed it back to Joe.
Tate tapped his pen to the desktop. “I assume we can proceed, then.” His tone indicated a command more than a question.
“As I stated to you both over the phone, your late mother’s request is cut and dry. Before either of you is to inherit a penny you must reside in her house together with your spouses for the next consecutive fourteen days and prepare it for donation as a home for wayward teens. You are to leave your car keys with Mr. Browning.” The assistant gave a slight bow. “He will secure your vehicles.”
Robert jumped from his seat. “What? You want me to relinquish the Jaguar?”
Erin reached behind her sister’s chair to pat his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Our Ford extended cab won’t taint her if they’re parked next to each other.”
Mr. Tate arched an eyebrow. “Chauffeured transportation will be provided.”
Ellen crossed her arms. “Oh, so you can monitor our coming and going?”
He gazed directly at her. “Precisely. A private detective agency has also been hired to ensure you comply with your mother’s requests.”
Erin rubbed her forehead. This surreal event could not be happening. She shot a glance to John whose Adam’s apple bounced.
Her attention returned to the meeting. “This evening you may shop for whatever you need in clothing and toiletries at Macy’s. An account is set up there under your names for up to $500.00 each.”
John coughed and shifted his weight in his chair.
Ellen humphed into her chin. “We can pay for our own things or tell our maid to pack our items and bring them to us.”
The barrister leaned forward across his desk. “That was not part of Mrs. Ballinger’s request. I am to guarantee you follow her instructions to the letter, Mrs. Longstrum.” He eased backward and flipped the page. “You will be escorted back to your hotel after you’ve had a chance to shop. You are free to order room service for dinner or eat at the hotel’s in-house restaurant. It’s all covered. The limo will pick you up at 8:30 a.m. tomorrow morning. Please be packed and ready in the lobby.
“You may claim any memorabilia or furniture as long as a list is made and all four of you sign in agreement of who gets what at the bottom of each page. Moving vans will arrive at 2:00 p.m. on the 24th to transport your possessions to your homes. The remaining amount will be auctioned at an estate sale scheduled for the 25th of this month at 10:00 a.m. We hired the Fergusson Gallery to handle the affair. They come highly recommended and several of our clients have been pleased with the results.”
Tate shuffled through the file. “A reputable janitorial service, Maid to Order, will give the house a thorough cleaning within two days after it is emptied. Deed transfer, to be handled through this office with Anderson Title Company, will occur on the 30th at 1:30 p.m.” He closed the folder and clasped his hands over it. “Questions, ladies?”
Out of her peripheral vision, Erin saw her sister’s French-manicured fingernails dig into the armrest of the chair. Erin gulped a swig of diet cola to force down the chunk of nerves lodged halfway between her tongue and her chest. Surely this nightmare would end soon. She’d wake up, fully able to breathe again.
CHAPTER FOUR
“This is lame.” Travis slunk into the airline seat next to Austin. He motioned with his eyes to his cousins and his great-aunt and uncle who sat in the rows across from them.
“Yeah, why would Nana think we’d want to go to Orlando at our age? I haven’t seen a Disney movie in almost a decade.”
Travis shoved his cell phone into his pocket when the flight attendant cocked an eyebrow at him. “And you think I have?”
“Plus they probably expect us to help babysit the girls.” Austin stated the obvious in a whiny tone.
Travis leaned in. “We’ll ditch them and hit the roller coasters at Disney World. At least they sound promising, according the website. I looked it up and there are concerts as well. We might meet some girls, too.”
Uncle Rick peered across the aisle. “Guys, when we reach the hotel, I’ll need your phone numbers.”
Austin scrunched his mouth to the side. “Why?”
“So I can touch base. You two are old enough to explore on your own.” Their uncle pointed his finger at them. “As long as you come and go to the amusement parks with us and the girls, and then check in every hour or so. Oh, and we meet up for meals. Deal?”
The twin teens answered in unison. “Deal.”
Uncle Rick dug into his hip pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Here are two prepaid credit cards each with $100 dollars on them. You get one every two days for the four days we’re at Disney. Tomorrow we go to Epcot and the Magic Kingdom, and then we can talk about what else you want to see. Then we’ll go to Universal Studio Orlando on day five and hang out on the beach two days. Snorkel, parasail, surf. Next, we head for Sea World and then take a day tour of the swamps by air boat.”
Austin and Travis high-fived each other.
“Then I thought we might head to Daytona for a race while the ladies shop, and finally tour Cape Canaveral and the Kennedy Space Center for a day while your aunt does girl stuff with Elena and little Jade. I’m thinking we’ll take Brittany with us to that. She’s a science freak from what I hear. Okay with you if your twelve-year-old, well, thirteen next month, cuz hangs out with us for one day?”
The boys eyed each other and shrugged.
“The last two days we’ll see what else everyone wants to do.” He winked and leaned back to click his seat belt.
Travis nodded at Austin. “Strike what I said.”
Austin bounced his head up and down. “Yeah. I’m in.”
*
Erin barely made eye contact with Ellen on the way to Macy’s. They sat opposite each other in the limo, complete with wet bar. Robert and John gave one another “here we go” expressions and gazed out their perspective windows. The air thickened inside.
When they finally pulled in front of the department store, Erin dashed out without waiting for the chauffer to open the door. “John? You coming?”
John heaved a deep sigh. “Guess so.”
Robert gave him a sympathetic look.
Ellen swirled to face him. “What was that for?”
“You think either of us are going to enjoy being cooped up in that house with you two cats?” He scooted sideways and swung his legs out the back seat. “If your claws come out, I’m calling the vet to come remove them.”
Ellen pushed him the rest of the way out with her purse. “Don’t even think about it. She’s my sister and it was my mother. You two sit and watch sports on TV all day. It’s what you like, anyway. Much more than spending time with me.”
He jerked her arm to his side and leaned into her neck. “If you weren’t such an uppity little witch half the time, comparing me to John and whoever else you think would make a better husband, I might. Let’s go.”
Greener Grasses Page 2
