In Search of Satisfaction

by J. California Cooper

  Carlene now refused to sleep with Richard any longer. She moved into a suite of rooms of her own, the mansion was so large. They didn’t make love, they had sex only occasionally if he demanded and pressed or if she was drunk and decided she wanted it herself. “I will have no more children who lack brains … if that is all you can make!” she told him one night when he was especially persistent. He returned to his rooms hurt and bewildered that his family was no family. After several days when there had been no change in Carlene, he left for the city. Thereafter he found his passion with other women during his business trips. Of course, eventually, one or two women satisfied him more than others and became rather steady. One he finally kept in an apartment, giving her money and jewels. Richard tried to make it feel like a home when he was there, but the woman didn’t want a home. She wanted a sugar daddy. Richard’s heart found small satisfaction.

  chapter

  17

  carl Befoe was away most of this time, and Richard began to take care of most of the business. Carlene hated it when her father stayed away for long periods of time. She believed, and she was right, that he was spending most of his time with his other “family.” She knew he liked beautiful women, and he was getting older. She thought, “Suppose someone has a child? Or even lies to him and says that the bastard was his? The money!” But Carl Befoe had thought of all that and had made arrangements for his other “family” before he died. When he did die, Carlene knew about them at last, but there was nothing she could do. It had all been done. By his hand, from his hand, they were secure. As was she. But she had wanted it all.

  Carlene leaned forward in her chair, reaching for her father’s picture. She smiled down at it and then held it to her breast. “You ole bastard, I loved you more than anyone else ever did!”

  Carl Befoe had died in Philadelphia in bed with his lusty, youngish wife. “That common-law whore he lived with!” Carlene screamed. Carlene was beside herself with grief. Even now, just thinking of the past, she remembered her grief. She had taken to her bed immediately. In less than an hour, she’d thought of the money, the will, and was up again. She had no time to lose. She spoke to Richard with tears in her eyes, “I must set my grief aside. There is our child and my sister I must think of. I need to see the lawyers. He died, it seems, in the house of that bitch he was living with. She probably poisoned him! I must go take care of any business. And … and I want to go alone. I must be alone awhile, with my grief.”

  She could not get out of Yoville that day. The riverbarge was gone and she refused to ride ten miles in a horse carriage. The next morning, she was packed and on her way. “Do not send a message to Sally if you know her address, Richard.” Richard always tried to keep in touch with Sally for business reasons. “I want to tell her myself,” said Carlene. “We will need each other at a time like this.” Then she was gone, waving her handkerchief to them sadly.

  Her first stop was at the eastern lawyers’ offices that handled most all of her father’s business and, of course, his will. They were astonished to see her, having planned to go to Yoville for the reading of the will, in view of the grief-stricken family. Her eyes sparkled with tears as she held their hands and explained she wanted to tell her sister, herself. “Please do not forward the news to her. I don’t want her to be alone when she finds out our dear father is gone. And I will let you know when we are able to hear the will read. We will come here to your offices.” They smiled agreement because they had not looked forward to Yoville and the disagreeable travel.

  While the lawyers were looking for some papers Carlene said she needed, Carlene excused herself to go to the ladies room. Returning from the ladies room, Carlene asked the secretary who she had known for many years, “Miss Withers, do you have a sheet of paper I may use to write a few notes to myself?” Miss Withers pulled open her drawer that held all the business stationery and scratch pads. She withdrew a pad and handed it to Carlene, saying, “I am so sorry about your father, Mrs. Befoe, he was a wonderful and kind man.” In reality Miss Withers had never liked him and his gruffness with so little respect, she thought, for women. At least, not until holidays when he gave such nice presents to the employees of the firm.

  Carlene took the scratch pad and reached for her purse as though to get a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “Oh! Miss Withers, I have left my purse in the ladies room.” She sat down, weary. “Would you please fetch it for me?”

  Miss Withers fairly flew up as fast as her age would allow. “Oh, of course! You just sit right there, Mrs. Befoe, I’ll be right back.” As soon as the old secretary was out of sight, Carlene jumped up and slid several sheets of their business stationery out and placed them under her coat. She was about to reach for several more sheets, just in case, when she heard Miss Withers returning. Carlene quickly sat down, holding her head in grief. Miss Withers handed her the purse, thinking, “The poor child is beside herself with grief. She is forgetting herself.” “Here, dear,” she said out loud, “Perhaps you would like some tea?” Carlene shook her head no, covered her mouth with the handkerchief and started back to the inner office of the lawyer. “Oh, Mrs. Befoe, you have forgotten the notebook.” Carlene spoke into the handkerchief, “Never mind, thank you, Miss Withers.”

  Her next stop was a public stenographer. She had removed her rings and bracelets that sparkled with diamonds. She spoke to the woman, “I am a legal secretary to my husband. My typewriter is broken. I need … we need a letter immediately. I have the business stationery here.” She handed a few sheets to the stenographer. “You will please type what I … we have written out on this piece of paper. It is to Mrs. Sally Gentle …”

  Thus, the letter was written and forged telling Sally her father, Mr. Carl Befoe, had thought she would be well taken care of by her husband and so had left her nothing in his will. That, since her husband had died, her father had, perhaps, meant to change the will but had not, saying it was for the best as it was. Signed, with regrets, saying, “Do not contact us, we will contact you if there is any more information forthcoming.” Carlene was elated things had gone so easily and well. She returned to Yoville and her grief. Satan shook his head at God. “To these you give free will! I didn’t do it! She did!”

  Sally truly grieved for her father, regretted his death and regretted that they had not been as close as they should have been. But she felt there should have been some inheritance for her. She had always felt she would, at last, be independent. Her life was crushed. The little strength the years had been using up, gave out. Then, Sally became sick. The doctor did not know what was wrong; he could find nothing, he said. Her heart was probably tired. The grief … you know.

  Her employers of that time had two children for whom Sally was governess and tutor. The children had never liked or respected Sally because she was gentle and honest. Neither did they like their parents whom they never saw.

  Her employers were rich, yet they told her, “We cannot afford two governesses, and we need a healthy one, in any event. You must make preparations to leave at your earliest convenience, of course. The new governess will be needing this room in three days. Oh, yes, the month is not ended, you know, so you will not receive a full month’s check. We will see that you do get to the station or whatever rooms you may find, of course. Oh, and do let us know how you are getting on. When you have time, of course.” That night, Sally was in tears when she wrote her sister Carlene that she was coming home to Yoville.

  Though it was half Sally’s home, Carlene “allowed” her to return, giving her rooms on the top floor in the servants’ quarters since they were not used much any longer. She said there was no space anywhere else. But there was, and all knew it. Consequently, the servants respected Sally so much less or not at all. She was given keys to the household and placed in the position of keeping the accounts, being a housekeeper. She remained in her rooms in the great loneliness she had always suffered in this house. Richlene was the only person she allowed herself to relax with. She tried to teach her things an
d found Richlene was not so dumb and unable as Carlene and others said. So they became close. Richlene loved her Aunt Sally, and Richard was always kind to Sally because she loved Richlene. And because it felt so good to have someone around who was kind.

  Carlene did not straighten out the matter of the will. No one knew. Sally, in her state of despair, never checked and gave up. Carlene could never use that money, those properties; it was tied up legally. She just did not want Sally to have her rightful share. She thought, “Of course now, when Sally dies, if she dies first … Well then, the money and all is mine! And her stupid children can kiss my ass!” Then there was Carlene’s laughter.

  When the will was read, Carlene found that her father had married “the bitch” and made her children legal. Her father had been careful though. He had willed and prepared his papers so Carlene and Sally were left with the bulk of his estate. His other family had received one very important business and many bonds and a very fine house in Pennsylvania.

  Now, Carlene decided to call on the widow Arabella, the second Mrs. Carl Befoe, her father’s wife. She told no one where she was going. She dressed in her finest to overwhelm and intimidate the woman. When her chauffeur pulled slowly into the curved driveway, even Carlene was impressed with her father’s “other” house. The grounds were well kept and flourishing; many trees and extensive lawns were trimmed, healthy and beautiful. The house had two stories and an attic. Carlene stepped from the automobile and saw huge glass doors with polished brass handles. They opened into an entryway to the front doors which were tall and made of the most magnificent wood. The name “BEFOE” was in large golden letters over the door. “The whore wants everyone to know!” thought Carlene with disdain.

  Carlene did not really believe her father had truly married THAT woman, no matter what the lawyers said. “This whore who caught an old, sick man,” she thought as she banged the knocker and waited.

  A maid opened the door. “Good day, madame.” Carlene was abrupt. “Is Mrs.… your mistress of the house in? I am Carlene Befoe and I sent a note I was coming. I am expected.” The maid invited her in and left her in the vestibule, saying, “Please wait here. I will tell the madame you have arrived.”

  Carlene bristled at being told by a maid to wait in a hall in her own father’s house, so she wandered around the large entry, looking through the doors which were open. It was beautiful, quiet and calm. “This house has had the benefit of an interior decorator, I’m sure of it!” she thought.

  Mrs. Arabella Befoe was a lovely, attractive woman. She had been in a very, high-class house for rich men when she met Carl. She was young, healthy, robust and very passionate. “All for you,” she told him softly. She listened to him patiently. She made him laugh. He grew to care for her a great deal. He paid the madam so that no one else might use Arabella’s body. He soon set her up in a house of her own … truly for him alone. She was soft spoken and a gentle woman. One of the kind that is all reserve on the surface, but, being healthy, she was a wild, passionate, imaginative lover behind closed doors. She knew men well. She knew Carl Befoe. She soon became pregnant—with his child or not. We never know. They did not marry then, but he stayed with her more. When she bore him a son who there was no doubt he adored, he named the child Carl Befoe junior and he moved in. It was popular knowledge he rushed home in the evenings and stayed home on weekends and holidays. She never changed her loving ways. When she became pregnant again, they moved into a much more respectable and rich neighborhood, and he quietly married her. She bore him a daughter, then she bore him no more. Still, she never changed. In fact, that is how Carl died. Atop her, clinging to her body, her breast in his mouth, his eyes looking into hers but not seeing her at the last, because he knew he was dying and he had not planned to.

  He had arranged things for this family. She was secure for the rest of her life and their children, beyond.

  Now, today, Arabella came down the magnificent stairs he had planned for her. She came down beautifully dressed and beautifully poised. Carlene looked up at this woman Arabella with hard disgust, even letting it show on her face. Carlene spoke first, “Mrs. Befoe, I do presume.”

  Arabella smiled, “And you are Mrs. Befoe? Or someone she has sent with a message of condolence for me?”

  Carlene now smiled with sarcasm. “I AM Mrs. Befoe AND Miss Befoe. I have been a Befoe all my life!”

  Arabella was now level with Carlene. “How wonderful for you. I’m sure you are quite pleased.” She smiled pleasantly. “Ahhhh, Mrs. Befoe, may I be of some service to you?”

  Carlene looked around her. “Do we stand here in a hall to talk? Surely my father taught you better manners than this.”

  “Your father, my husband, taught me many things. But I always do what I decide to do. Yes … I will invite you to sit and talk a moment. Follow me, please. Would you like some tea? … or coffee? I have no hard liquor in the house, I’m afraid.” She led the way to a nearby sitting room where a small fire was burning. Carlene knew that she or someone had been expected. She thought to herself, “This bitch expected me. So she knows how to play a game, mmph. Well, she’s playing with the wrong woman now. My father may have been a fool for her, but I am not my father.”

  As they made themselves comfortable, Carlene spoke, “I do not care for anything. I simply wanted to see the woman who had … taken advantage of my father.”

  Arabella laughed, startling Carlene. “Taken advantage of your father?” She continued to laugh with gentle gusto. “You think your father was a fool then! Oh, my dear, my dear, it seems your father took advantage of you!” Her body was shaking with her laughter. “You do not know your father!” Suddenly the laughter stopped, but she continued speaking. “Certainly not as I do.”

  Carlene was getting angry, but could think of nothing to do or say that would upset this woman and still leave herself a lady more highborn than Arabella. “Yes,” she finally said, “I am sure I do not know him as you do. Where are the … children?”

  Arabella smiled. “The children? They are too old to be called children. My son, our son, Carl junior, is away at school. He will be going to college very soon. My … our daughter, Heda, is upstairs attending classes with her tutor and governess.”

  Carlene’s voice was very low as she asked, “You have named your son, Carl junior.”

  Arabella still smiled. “Yes, after his father … at his father’s request.”

  Carlene could hardly stand being where she was, hearing what she was hearing and looking at this horrible, horrible woman. She spoke in a tight voice. “You took everything you could from him, didn’t you?”

  Arabella still smiled. “Dear, ladies never ‘take.’ Ladies never have to.” She laughed that gentle, infuriating laughter. “And don’t forget, I didn’t take you from him.” Suddenly Arabella stopped smiling and became serious. “But, yes, where is your sister, Sally? Carl lost touch with her. She was moving so much and you … said he had not received any mail from her.”

  Carlene was taken aback. “What do you want with my sister Sally?”

  “Well,” Arabella answered, “Carl left something very special to him … for her. I wish to give it to her.”

  Carlene thought a moment. “What is it? What special thing did he leave for Sally?”

  Arabella leaned back in her chair. “I cannot really say what it is. It is wrapped and has been for years. He said many times, it was for Sally … when … he … passed on.”

  Carlene sat forward in her chair. “Give it to me. I will see that she gets it.”

  Arabella thought a moment. “No … I would rather give it to her myself. I’m sure you won’t mind. Carl’s request was to me, you know, dear.”

  Carlene’s voice became hard, “You are very rude to tell me I cannot take a … gift from my own father to my own sister.”

  Arabella stood up. “And you have been trying to be rude to me since you arrived here in my house. I cannot see what further need you have of me … and I have some very important things
I must do. So if you will excuse me … I will have the maid show you.…”

  Carlene stood up, enraged. “How dare you! To try to put me out of my own father’s house!”

  Arabella’s voice now became hardened. “This is MY home, Mrs. Befoe. I tolerate no one here I do not wish to.”

  Carlene turned to leave. “I was ready to leave anyway, but,” she turned back to Arabella, “this house may not always be your home. I have lawyers, excellent lawyers. I am going to contest the actions my father took. He was old and obviously sick.”

  Arabella’s voice did not rise. “Then you will have to have his will examined where you and Sally are concerned, also. Perhaps he did not know what he was doing there either. And Mrs. Befoe, he DID talk to me a great deal about you … and Sally … and what he wanted for her … and you.”

  Carlene could only stare at Arabella, wondering how much she knew. Had she talked to the lawyers? Were they friends? Did she know? Did they know? They were always wondering why Sally had not come in to see them.

  “Something is wrong here,” Arabella thought to herself. “I will find Sally on my own.” She turned to the door where the maid had suddenly appeared. “Please, show … Mr. Befoe’s daughter out.” She turned to go up the stairs and never turned back to Carlene until she had reached the top. Carlene was still standing, stupefied, staring up at Arabella. Arabella knew the grandness of a stairway as her late husband had. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at Carlene and said, “It would please me, dear, if you do not return to my home until you are invited. Good day.” Then her skirts swished as she disappeared from view.

  Carlene, blinded by tears of anger, was soon out the front door and being helped into the automobile. She looked back at the house until she could see it no more. When she did turn around, her first thought was “Perhaps I had better leave well enough alone. I won’t contest my father’s provision for her.” A wave of anger swept through her then. Her heart raged with the question, “But what is in that package from my father to Sally?” She hated Arabella and Sally.