House of the Golden Butterfly

by B. Groves

  Claire knew she lived with Rose a long time ago. After three years, she left to live with Mary and Clay. They told her Rose couldn’t handle taking care of her, and to forget about her.

  “How come Rose doesn’t want to talk to me?” Claire asked Mary one time.

  Mary looked up from her sewing. A flash of anger passed over her eyes. “Because she’s crazy. She doesn’t contact anyone from her family. She wants to be left alone. Leave her be. She’s probably dead by now for all I know.”

  Claire sat on the edge of the bed with the phone limp in her hand. Many questions filled her head.

  Why hadn’t they told her that Rose was alive? Why had they kept it a secret all these years?

  Nana and Papa had to have known. Why hadn’t Rose wanted to see her? After all, Claire lost her parents and her brother within three years of each other. Why wouldn’t Rose want to see the only family she had left?

  The questions raced through Claire’s mind. She looked up at her grandparent’s picture on her nightstand and silently asked them why they never told her that her maternal grandmother was still alive. At least, until this past summer.

  The questions made Claire’s headache worse. She needed to call that lawyer back and see what this was all about.

  Did she really inherit a house and some money?

  Claire stood from the bed and held onto the phone for dear life as the thoughts and questions were still running through her foggy mind. She went to the bathroom and drank coffee before she called this attorney. She wanted to research him first to make sure this wasn’t a scam. She microwaved the coffee and sat down in front of her laptop. She ignored all her other messages and searched for the lawyer.

  Sure enough, there he was.

  George Stallings, LLP. Personal injury, estate planning…

  She searched the North Carolina Bar website for his name and found it.

  The phone number matched what was on her cell phone. Claire sipped her coffee at her small dining table and wondered if she should contact Nana and Papa’s attorney and ask what she should do.

  Claire was born in North Carolina. Lingate to be exact, but the details of her early childhood were always fuzzy. She never delved deep enough into her mind to think about her early childhood when her parents passed away at a young age.

  Why hadn’t they told her? The question nagged at Claire. Was Rose a bad person? Is that why they never told her? Was there drama that happened after her parents died?

  So many questions. So little answers.

  The hole Claire always had in her gut opened again. She knew deep down something was missing from her life, but never knew what. These could be the answers to close that hole for good.

  Claire picked up her phone and called back the number. She waited while the assistant brought George Stallings on the line.

  “Good morning, Miss Westcott,” he greeted her. “How are you?”

  “Honestly, Mister Stallings,” she answered. “Very confused.”

  There was a moment of silence. “Why?”

  How did Claire say what she wanted to say? “I’m… confused, because I never knew Rose Kinsey was still alive. I had no contact with her. I’m in shock about this news. I hope you understand.”

  Claire heard a small ‘hm’ over the line. “Mrs. Kinsey never made me aware that you were never in contact with her. I guess that answers all my questions.”

  “What kinds of questions?” Claire asked.

  “Well, why you weren’t at her funeral and why I had a hard time locating you,” George answered.

  “I’m sorry. I am just as confused as you,” Claire said.

  “No, I guess I should be the one apologizing. I’m guessing this is quite the shock,” George said.

  “To say the least.”

  Claire couldn’t help but smile. The man’s southern drawl became deeper as their conversation progressed, but he seemed friendly enough.

  Claire thought she heard papers shift in the background. “You are her sole benefactor of her estate. I’ve already received what she left for me for taking care of her business. You now own a three-story home, a Cadillac Coup Deville, and have inherited a substantial amount of money, among other items.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Claire whispered into the phone.

  A three-story home? A Cadillac? An inheritance? Is this too good to be true?

  Claire was silent for a moment while the news sunk in. How did she come across this? Was this good luck? Was this bad luck? What should she do?

  “Miss Westcott?”

  “I’m sorry,” Claire said. “This is shocking news.”

  “Obviously. I sent you an official letter about the property and your inheritance as well, you should receive the notice any day now,” George said.

  “Okay. May I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “How old was my grandmother? What happened to her? Why the mystery?” Claire chuckled. “That’s three questions.”

  “No, it’s fine. I thought you knew Rose was still alive. I guess I was wrong. She never told me any different. As for your other questions…” George trailed off for a moment. “She was eighty-one and thought to be in good health. She passed away on July 23. She was found after a neighbor called the police to do a welfare check. The official cause of death was a pulmonary embolism.”

  “She died in the house?” Claire made a face while a shiver ran down her spine.

  “Yes. You have options,” George said getting back to business. “You can sell the house, sit on it for a while and think it over. Rent it, although I always advise against that, because renting is a headache, or come down here and move right in.”

  Claire blinked. She knew about those options from her previous dealings with Mary and Clay’s house.

  “She never took a second mortgage or anything?” Claire asked.

  “Nope. The house has been in your family for over a century. Long paid off,” George said.

  Had the house been in my family for over a century? That sounded so strange in Claire’s mind. She never knew her mother’s side of the family. No one ever talked about them. Her grandparents claimed they loved her mother, but they never talked about her or her side of the family.

  Claire rubbed her forehead and pushed back her hair. “I’m trying to figure all this out.”

  “Well, one option is you can sit on it and think for a while about your future plans. How about if I have my assistant email you pictures of the house, and you can decide from there,” George suggested.

  Claire liked that idea. Giving her something physical to look at would help. This news was too unbelievable and the pictures would help make it real.

  “I hate to ask this question but…”

  Claire heard George smile through the phone. “You want to know how much the inheritance is, but are afraid to ask. Am I right?”

  Claire smiled. “Yes.”

  George told her the amount. Claire thought she would drop the phone. Her eyes widened and her breathing became labored.

  Then all new thoughts raced through her head. She could buy out her contract and not get sued. She would have her freedom back, even go back to school and further her degree.

  Her little broken Hyundai sitting out in the street could be a distant memory.

  What am I doing? She thought as her thoughts came to a sudden stop. I don’t deserve this money. I never earned it. I never worked for it. How could I even consider this?

  “Claire?”

  Claire inhaled a deep breath. “There is no possible way I could accept that amount.”

  “If you don’t accept it Rose said to send all the money to charities around Lingate. It’s your choice to sit on it and think about it now but if I were you, I would make your decision before tax time so her accountant can manage the taxes you must pay and your finances,” George explained.

  Claire needed to think it over while she processed this sudden and unexpected change in her life.

  She th
ought about her family and the thought of reconnecting with her shadowed past was tempting.

  Then there was David.

  She glanced at the picture of the little boy on her nightstand next to her grandparent’s picture.

  Her memories of her brother and his death were part of that gaping hole Claire carried within her for so many years.

  Three-year-old David Westcott ran away from Rose one day when Claire was in school and fell into a nearby river.

  They never recovered his body.

  It always bothered Claire that her memories of her brother were out of reach in a dark part of her mind.

  “I need to think this over,” Claire said.

  “Absolutely. I will give you my cell phone number and when you have made your decision, call me back and we’ll make arrangements,” George said. “Regardless of the outcome of the house and some other assets, the money is yours and I can cut you a check now.”

  “Can I think about that one, too?” Claire asked.

  “Yes, you can,” George answered.

  After Claire hung up with George she sat on the side of the bed wondering how… and why…

  Why didn’t Rose contact her after so many years? Why did she never stay in Claire’s life after Claire moved to New Jersey with Mary and Clay?

  Why did she know so little about her past, and why were her memories so intermittent about David?

  Claire placed a hand over her stomach and shook her head. The gaping hole opened wider.

  She always thought of that hole as part of her. As something that would never change the rest of her life because of the tragedy that befell their young family.

  Mary and Clay never talked about their grandson much. They said it was too painful to talk about the accident. They were there to raise her into a successful woman. That was their job. To raise and protect her.

  And, it showed as they raised Claire.

  Claire smiled about how overprotective they were of her for years. Claire sometimes felt smothered and would sneak out during the night to get away from her grandparents for a little while.

  At first, she thought their strict curfews were from a multi-generational gap in ages, but one time when she was caught, the couple sat down and talked to her but only gave vague excuses, although Claire was rolling her eyes when they were lecturing her.

  Now, she understood why they were protective of their granddaughter.

  She remembered the day she left for college, and how Mary sobbed the whole way there.

  Claire promised to come home, and she kept her promise.

  After she signed her publishing contract, Claire came home from New York and helped take care of her aging grandparents.

  It wasn’t long after she moved home that her grandfather died, and then Mary was diagnosed with cancer.

  Within a few years, Claire thought she was the only person in her family left alive.

  Well, she still was, if one wanted to use logic.

  It was strange that Rose was still alive and never contacted her. Not so much as a card for her birthday or even a sympathy card after her grandparents passed away.

  It didn’t make sense.

  What happened in those years that Claire lived with Rose?

  A house? A car? Money?

  Claire struggled with her newfound information. She glanced around her tiny apartment several blocks away from the beach.

  She grew up in a small town in southern New Jersey called Margate. She had beautiful memories here. How could she possibly leave all that behind?

  She closed her eyes thinking of the money and how it could help her in so many ways.

  She and her publisher no longer had a good working relationship, but she was stuck in the contract.

  Despite the popularity of her continuing romance series—Tales of Shelter Island—Claire’s royalties were less than stellar. Her last book cover was made by a new designer. Claire opened the box with her new proof and was disgusted by the new design.

  Her publisher was cutting costs, and the authors were paying the price.

  When Claire signed her contract, she was young and naïve, and if she’d known what would happen, she would have struck out on her own.

  She wanted to go back to school and change careers, but that dream was out of reach for now since she couldn’t afford the tuition. Besides, she had no clue on what she wanted her major to be.

  She always wondered how her grandparents paid her tuition when she first entered college.

  All her schooling was paid, and she never wanted for anything while she attended.

  She asked several times how they could afford it, but their answers were vague.

  She knew her grandparent’s finances well and never understood where the money came from…

  Then a thought hit Claire.

  Rose…

  Did Rose pay her college tuition? She didn’t know, but it was time to find out if she did.

  Claire reached over and held her brother’s picture.

  Claire once again mourned the brother she never knew who died under such tragic circumstances like her parents.

  She remembered Mary and Clay explaining all the details when she was older.

  They flew down to Lingate immediately to help aid in the search efforts, but all was lost after three weeks, and the search called off.

  Clay said the only thing authorities ever found was one of David’s shoes.

  Mary’s eyes were brimming with tears as she explained the search effort to Claire. She said she always appreciated the whole town coming together to find their grandson.

  Claire frowned as she remembered those conversations. She always thought parts were missing like pieces of a puzzle that fell behind a sofa, never to be seen again.

  Claire tried to dig through her memories about David but always came up with blanks.

  Claire sighed and saw it was a beautiful day outside for early fall. Perhaps she should go for a walk and think this through.

  She felt guilty about the money. She never earned it on her own like Clay taught her when she was younger.

  Yes, she needed to clear her head.

  One part of her was saying this could be a fresh start for her. A new beginning she desperately needed. She could buy out her contract, get back the rights to her books, and venture into the self-publishing industry.

  She could get a new car and would have a house. Things she’d been dreaming about for a long time.

  A fresh start would bring her out of financial debt. She would be living in a dream home. She could re-energize her writing career or change careers.

  Her phone beeped with the email of pictures of the house inside.

  Claire put down her brother’s picture and picked up her phone to swipe through them.

  Her eyes rounded in surprise at how huge the house appeared even in the small pictures from her phone.

  Claire swiped through the rest of the interior photos and didn’t know what to do.

  This opportunity fell in her lap. She never had that happen before.

  Claire decided she needed fresh air to think this over and instead of going for a walk she would visit Mary and Clay at the cemetery.

  Her thoughts tore her in two as she dresses and drove over to the cemetery.

  The fresh start was right at her doorstep, but, her loyalty to stay near her grandparents, even in death, kept her from deciding right away.

  She wished they were still alive. She wished she could turn to them for the answers. Whenever she had an issue, whether it was work, a guy, or anything else upsetting her life, Mary and Clay were always there for her.

  They were her parents, and she missed them with every fiber of her being.

  Claire parked her car and made her way through the grass and tombstones.

  Her grandparents were buried near an oak tree turning a beautiful orange and red colors for the season.

  Their gravestones were simple marble with all their information and a lilac bush carved in the middle sin
ce Mary loved lilacs.

  Claire pushed leaves out of the way and sat down in the grass and cool dirt.

  After she was settled, she stared at the gravestone for a long while, still having an internal debate about what to do.

  “You said Rose was dead, but why do I feel you knew Rose was alive all along?” Claire asked out loud.

  A breeze picked up and Claire pushed her hair out of her face as she continued to ask questions.

  “What happened when David died?” Claire said.

  The dry and dead leaves swirled around her as the breeze picked up strength.

  “What secrets did you take with you? What did you want to tell me that day, Nan?” Claire asked remembering her last words.

  “Did you know Rose left all her assets to me? Did you know she would do that?”

  Claire only heard the rustling of the leaves as her response.

  She put her head on her knees and felt the tears sting her eyes.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered.

  “It’s time, Claire.”

  Claire’s head snapped up when she heard the voice in the air. Her eyes searched the cemetery for any other signs of life, but the only living human was herself.

  She looked around wondering where the voice came from.

  Another gust of wind blew over her.

  “It’s time to go back.”

  Claire looked around again. She heard the words, they seemed to travel with the breeze. They echoed around her.

  “Go.”

  Claire sat there for what seemed like hours trying to hear the voice on the breeze one last time.

  As her thoughts shifted and turned and as her internal debate continued, deep down Claire knew in her soul she had her answer.

  There was more to her past than her family ever told her and she needed to find the answers.

  She even called George from her grandparents resting place to tell him her decision.

  5.

  A nother seven weeks passed before Claire took care of her business, packed, and left her home in New Jersey.

  She got rid of her little clunker and bought a new SUV after she received her check. She sold most of her possessions and bought out her lease on her apartment.