Chapter 3

The sun came up. At least I thought it probably had. It always seemed to.

Maddie was jammed in beside me. We’d lain awake until after 2, sobbing, talking, remembering. Finally, sleep had swallowed us both, thankfully. I don’t think I had dreams or nightmares or anything. I could only wish that last night had been a dream, the phone call just a nightmare. If I’d dreamed, they were gone now. What wasn’t gone was the feeling in my chest, in my belly, that churning that just wouldn’t go away.

“Serena,” the quiet form beside me said.

“I have to call them,” I said.

“Can I help?”

More sobs. She was such a help in a totally helpless situation.

She made me sit up. She led me to the bathroom. She washed my face, then her own.

“Maddie, I ... you...

“Be quiet,” she said. “Are you ready to call?”

How can you be ready for a call like that? I’d talk to Auntie. I knew my heart wouldn’t allow my voice to speak to Granny. Auntie would have to do that. Granny always said that no mother should have to bury one of their own children. I sobbed again as Maddie hugged me once more.

“I thought sure I’d have run out of tears by now,” I said to her, feebly.

She smiled, a warm smile, the warmth nearly blocked by what had happened.

“You will, finally,” she assured me. “And then, there’ll be a new batch and it will happen again. I just wish I could be there for you each time it happens.”

I sobbed again. Maddie was more than I ever deserved. She was like ... well, I took a deep breath, like my mother had been when I stubbed my toe or cut my hand or ... But this was so much worse, and she was there. She didn’t know what I was thinking I was sure. I knew that eventually I would share these thoughts with her and there’d be more tears.

“Let’s call,” she said, taking my arm and leading me to the couch.

I held the phone but my finger refused to press the buttons. Maddie pushed them for me.

“Hello, honey. Glad you called.”

“Auntie, Mama is dead.”

There was a small Methodist church a little further up the road from our place. Maybe a quarter mile past the Anderson’s house, Auden and Duane’s house. I had been there a few times with Auntie and Granny and it just seemed more appropriate to have the funeral out here in the country, where the air was fresh, the sun not a strange color. Where the noises were birds and chipmunks and squirrels and not blaring horns and screaming sirens. She deserved to be away from the noise and distraction of the city. Plus, the cemetery beside the church had available plots and I had made arrangements for her to be laid to rest there. And, from the old house, I could take Thurston for walks to visit the grave. It was a quiet service but there was a much bigger crowd than I had imagined. So much bigger. People stood outside, in the cold, as the church couldn’t hold them all. They nearly surrounded the little building. I hadn’t imagined.

There were people from the homeless shelters, both staff and the homeless as well. There were people from hospitals, doctors, nurses, social workers and I’m sure some who had been patients. There were others too and I had no idea where they might be from. I tried to talk to as many as I could but it was overwhelming. People loved her. They quietly and thoughtfully told me what Mother had done for them, how she had helped, how she had cared. I alternately swelled up with pride, that she was my mother and I her daughter, and then shrank away, diminished in some way by not knowing about this, never imagining what was happening, nearly under my very nose, yet hidden by my blindness.

Maddie never left my side. I’d loved my mother and I loved Maddie. She could never imagine how much.

I threw the first handful of dirt on Mother’s casket. Everyone filed by and added their handfuls. By the time it was finished, the casket was nearly invisible under the dirt. It seemed somehow so inappropriate, all that dirt. But I realized that it was thrown there by those who’d loved her and it was just a way of wishing her godspeed on her final journey.

We, Maddie and I, spent the night at the house with Auntie and Granny. There were, surprisingly I guess, few tears then, but lots of shared memories. It was a wonderful evening and night.

The office was on the 17th floor of the Huntington Bank Building in downtown Columbus. Maddie insisted on going with me. Maddie was...

“You never know,” she said.

The carefully lettered sign on the door read, “Bernstein, Barton and Joseph” and under it, “Attorneys at Law”. We looked at each other, impressed, and then went through the door.

“Would one of you be Serena Chisholm?” the very attractive lady behind the desk asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.

She picked up the phone and punched a button. “Ms. Chisholm is here sir. Shall I bring her back?”

A nod as she hung up the phone. “Follow me,” she said, heading down a fairly long hallway. We didn’t go far before she stopped and opened a door, indicating for us to go in.

A well dressed, carefully manicured and slightly older man rose from behind the desk and met us half-way across the very expansive office.

“Thank you, Karen.” The door closed behind her. “Alexander Barton,” he said, looking from me to Maddie and back.

I smiled.

“I’m Serena,” I said, ending his confusion, “and this is my best friend, Maddie Callahan.”

“Hello to you both. Have a seat.” He carefully sat down in the big chair behind the desk and began shuffling some folders.

The office looked ... like a law office. Lots of wood and shelves and books. Thick carpet such that half of a shoe sole was swallowed by its loft, and big, comfortable chairs, wood and leather, the smell of the leather very prominent. And Alexander Barton just looked like a lawyer. Actually, he looked distinguished enough to be called a solicitor or barrister, things I’d read about in a novel one time.

“Since you’ve brought Ms. Callahan in with you, I assume you’re comfortable with her hearing all the details that I’ll be reviewing here.” Despite his look and demeanor, Alexander Barton’s voice was warm and very reassuring. Comforting almost.

“Very much so,” I confirmed, giving Maddie a pat on the knee.

“Fine then. May I call you Serena?”

“Please.”

“Serena, your mother first came to me when I was just beginning with this firm. I haven’t known her well through the years but have always been appreciative of the trust she placed with me.”

Another one knowing my mother in a way that was strange to me.

“She has been very thorough with all things financial and otherwise and her will is very complete and even contains bits of history that help explain everything here. I’ve been in contact with Kevin Woodsworth who was her financial advisor and he has briefed me on all of the financial intricacies of everything and has given me permission to share them with you. Do you know Mr. Woodsworth?”

“I know the name and I know he handles my things too, whatever they may be, but I’ve never met him.”

“Well, you need to. He’s excellent.” He paused and smiled. “He handles my financial dealings as well so I can assure you, your mother made an excellent choice there.”

More shuffling of the folders.

“I think I’ll just begin at the beginning, some fairly old information, and then proceed to the present.” He sorted some of the papers and cleared his throat. “When your father was killed, his will was very specific as well and even included what was to be done if he died accidently, as he did. All the possessions, those normal things, would go to your mother, house, cars, furniture, etc. The insurance money was to be split in two, half going to your mother and half to you. Mr. Woodsworth has handled both of those accounts since that time. Now also, since that time, your mother has been doing something else, unknown to you.” He looked up at me momentarily and smiled. “A person is allowed to gift a family member up to $15,000 per year, tax free. Since your father’s death she has gifted you $15,000 each year and it’s gone into the fund that Mr. Woodsworth manages. However, she has also gifted that amount to your aunt and grandmother and they, in turn, have gifted that to you as well. I’m sure that was an agreement the three of them had entered into.”

I looked at Maddie to see if she seemed uncomfortable, hearing all this, but she was just smiling. I think she was enjoying it along with me, and was just being happy for me.

“So,” he continued, “since the time you were seven years old, your account has received an input of $45,000 each year.

“Wait,” I interrupted. “You mean she’s been giving me her money all that time?”

“It certainly appears that way, Serena.” He was looking at the papers and nodding. “That comes to about $540,000.”

“Now wait again. Sorry for interrupting. Do you know how much the insurance came to?”

“I don’t have that paper in front of me right this moment but it was roughly one point two million dollars so, about $600,000 for each of you.”

“Then she’s given me almost all she got.”

“It appears that way, certainly.”

“And she’s been paying everything along the way too.”

“Not sure about that but it wouldn’t surprise me at all, from what I’ve seen.”

I was astounded. This wasn’t the mother that I’d known all those years, but this was the mother she was. And more.

“Let me see now, it looks like your account, the original you had from the insurance, is worth about, well, roughly one point five six million dollars. The amount your mother and others added is around $540,000 dollars, which has grown to approximately $730,000 with Mr. Woodsworth’s investments. So, in total there, about two point three million dollars.”

I looked at Maddie and she had such a huge smile I thought her face might shatter.

“And, I nearly forgot,” he continued, “about $260,000 left from her share of the insurance that she’s left to you of course. And the house and other incidentals as well.”

I knew we had money but ... I don’t know what made me say it but I did. “I guess I’m a very well-to-do orphan.” Maddie reached over and gave me one of her familiar hugs that I had grown to treasure.

“If you want exact numbers, just contact Mr. Woodsworth. And, you should probably see him as soon as possible anyway to ensure that everything is in order. I’m sure he’d like to talk with you. I’ll be sure all the paperwork is in order here and will be in touch with you about signatures and the like.”

I stood up to leave.

He looked at me, I thought a bit chagrined.

“My apologies, Serena. I’ve been totally remiss. My sincere condolences on your mother’s very untimely death. I can’t imagine even slightly what a shock it must have been.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “It was a shock but you’ve helped the transition here with your kindness.”

“I hope so.” He touched a button on his phone and, almost immediately, Karen appeared at the door.