Chapter 2

At about ten, I went downstairs. She was already there. The dress was conservative, but she was beautiful, nonetheless. I told her as much and asked her about the choker she wore again.

“Thank you for that, Charlie. I want to always look good for you. I want you to be proud to have me with you. I need that, actually. The choker is ... That’s something ... We need to talk about that later, Charlie. You’ve seen it before, though. Many, many years ago, you gave me a present. It was all wrapped up with dark silver and gray paper and had a black cloth ribbon around it. Do you remember that?”

I did. It was for her graduation from Elementary School. An engraved Cross professional writing set that set me back a bunch of money. I thought she was worth that and a million more just like it. “I do remember. The pen and pencil set.”

“I still use them at my desk at home. I’ve probably put ten refills in that pen, and I go through lead in that pencil like my dad runs through gas in his truck. They never leave that desk, though, lest I lose them, or they get misplaced by another’s hands, if you know what I mean.”

“You mean so they don’t grow legs?”

“Exactly. Even with my name engraved on them, I don’t want them exposed to the public. In any case, this is the ribbon from that package. When I miss you, I wear it as a ... I’ll call it a necklace. We’ll talk more about that later. Suffice to say, to me, it’s a piece of you. OK?” I nodded.

She stood with me, calmly holding my arm, or my hand, or placing her hand on my shoulder, always there with me. She was a rock. A couple of times someone mentioned something that pulled a heartstring and got to me. She’d ask them to wait for a second, turn me toward her, straighten my tie, wipe the tears from my face with her thumbs, whatever it took to get me to smile, then turn me around to face the music. That lasted for two hours. My parents were loved, that’s for sure. I only thought it was going to be a big deal. There was standing room only in the hall at the funeral home, every seat full, mostly women and elderly, then men and youngsters two and three deep around the perimeter. The lobby was full, and the doors were all blocked open. I had severely underestimated my parents’ impact on people’s lives.

Then the funeral ceremony began. Eulogies were given by six close friends; they knew I wouldn’t be able to speak, so Sam took a note I had written and read it for me. It was short, sweet, simple, and to the point. I thanked everyone in the room for making my parents’ lives wonderful and providing them with a great place to raise a kid that loved them more than anything in the world.

We all loaded up in cars, Bethany, her parents, and me, in the lead car provided by the funeral people, then followed by God knows how many others. The line was a mile long and we had police everywhere directing traffic across town to the cemetery.

As the ceremony was closed by the pastor at their church, I was approached by our company lawyer, Steve Mason, and with him a lawyer Dad used for things more personal, George Ball.

“Steve, George. How are things today?” I asked them, still holding on to Bethany for strength.

“We’re good, Mr. Cardin. Are you going to have a few minutes this afternoon, or do we need to wait until tomorrow?”

“For?”

“The legal aspects of your parents’ passing, Mr. Cardin.”

“Please, George. Charlie will be fine. Just call me Charlie, for now. Steve already does.”

“Fine, Charlie. There is the matter of the reading of your parents’ wills. Very simple and to the point, but the both of you need to be there. All the other named parties will be taken care of by your father’s accounting firm, at and by my direction as executor, but you two need to be there.”

“That sounds ominous,” Bethany said.

“Not at all, Miss Swanson. Not at all. Caroline was quite fond of you and wanted you to know that in case something ever happened to her, that’s all.”

“Oh. Gee. See, Charlie, I told you I felt like their daughter at times.” She giggled, getting me to chuckle, taking me once again out of my little funk. She leaned into me, hugged me, and looked up in question. “I have nothing to do until Monday. I took today and tomorrow off. My instructors know.”

“In that case, George, can we get together tomorrow at say eleven? Just before lunch? That way we can get downtown, take care of this, then have lunch after we’re done and go our separate ways.”

“Eleven tomorrow. Good enough. Charlie, I’m so sorry for your loss,” George said. “Your father was not just a client, but a friend as well. Your mother was important to so many people in this town. So involved, in so many ways. They will both be sorely missed. Sorely.”

“I second what George said. I’ll miss them. Sandy will, too. She’ll have to find a new card and tennis partner, and that’s not going to be easy. Your mother set a pretty high bar.” Steve was one of Dad’s golf buddies. Sam said ... Nah. Not today. It’s just a game. Let it go, I told myself.

“Thank you both. I appreciate the sentiment. I really do. I have one question for you, Steve. Can you think of anything that needs to be done to make sure operations are ongoing until I can come back?”

“Those are the things we need to talk about, son. Your managers are over there by the road waiting for us to signal them to leave or follow us back to our offices. We’re going to go tell them to meet us in George’s office tomorrow at eleven. I will give you a heads up, though. You two, the NRA, your church, your high school, two scholarship funds, and the Audubon Society are the only beneficiaries. There won’t be any infighting for company ownership or any of that rubbish. The life insurance policies alone have you holding two million dollars, minus funeral expenses. You’re going to be fine. The company is going to be fine. Your girlfriend here is going to be fine until she gets out of school. Yada, yada. We’ll talk tomorrow at eleven.”

Each of them shook each of our hands and left to talk to the managers waiting by their cars.

“Wow,” Bethany said.

“Yeah, wow. I had some inkling, and I knew they had life insurance, but I thought it was maybe half or a fourth of that. I didn’t know ... Never mind. No matter. Come, little girl. Take me to the church. I need to have a drink and relax for a bit. We need to have you change anyway. Let’s get out of here.”

I said goodbye to our pastor, told him we’d be over after a bit, thanked the funeral director, and his assistant took us back to the church for our vehicle, then we left for home. I hadn’t yet started crying openly, but it was just a matter of time, I was sure.

I took Bethany home, where she peeled off to my parents’ room, so I left her in privacy and fixed myself a drink. Thinking better of it, I made one for her, too. She enjoyed these peach and mango things a couple of different companies made. I just found that out the night before last, but any information is knowledge that can be used to gain the advantage in time of love and war, right?

I took her drink to my parents’ room and knocked. “Come in, Charlie.”

I entered the room to see her dressed in the hot pants outfit but without her heels on. She was adorable. She’s petite and thin, though perfectly shaped. She has a perfect bottom, long slender yet perfectly shaped thighs and calves, a small, yet on her, substantial, bust, and the prettiest little feet. In my eyes, she was perfect. Her long auburn hair, which earlier was falling down freely, was now in a ponytail, drawing attention to every part of her as it swished around. It fell to just above her butt, moved over her breasts when she stood after putting her shoes on, then when she leaned her head back, it dropped over her rear end drawing my eyes to her legs. I’ll bet she had no idea just how damned magnificent she really was.

“You’re so beautiful, Bethany. Thank you.”

“Don’t start. Thank you for allowing this. I’ll finish the conversation about the ribbon on the way to the hall at the church, just promise not to choke on anything.” She took about three healthy swigs of her drink, that peach and mango thing over ice. They are pretty potent, but I knew that she knew what she was doing. She needed a bit of liquid courage, and there it was. I trusted her to be responsible, though. I should have been a bit more careful. We finished our drinks and headed out.

We were about halfway there when she blurted it out. “It’s a collar.”

“WHAT?”

“What part didn’t you understand?”

“Collar.”

“Don’t go south on me, Charlie. You need to be strong. I shouldn’t have brought it up yet. Shit.”

“Stop, Bethany. You’re fine. It’s beautiful on you. You need to know that. I like chokers. They’re old school. Cute. Elegant. Pretty.”

“It’s not a choker, unless that’s what you do with it. It’s a collar.”

“OK. Talk to me. Why are you wearing a collar?”

“Because I belong to someone. I am theirs. Only theirs. Always theirs. In all ways and for always. In time, you will understand, but this is my reality. This is my truth. This is my life.”

“Do I know this person you belong to?”

“Yes, you saw him this morning.”

“Where, Bethany? I’m not liking this conversation. I thought...” She interrupted me.

“You saw him in the mirror, Charlie. A while back I pulled that box out, with the wrapping paper and the ribbon, and the card, if you must know, and made the ribbon into a collar, which looks like a choker so I can wear it in public. Did you know then that ribbon was made of cloth, and not just that slinky plastic stuff?”