Chapter 3

Ben’s turn:

Monday at ten we were at the attorney’s office. Got ushered into a well-appointed conference room where I shook hands with the attorney, Mister Carstairs McLean, whom I’d met before, and Cynda Keller, whom I’d never met. I introduced Mandy to them. We sat down.

“This won’t be our only meeting, Mister Comeaux,” Carstairs said. “We’ve got a lot of researching to do. I have personal knowledge of your mom and dad’s estate. He helped me set up a majority of it. Your sister and her husband, well, we’re going to have to get with employers and such...”

“I know where all the important papers are,” Mandy interrupted. “I guess we shoulda brought ‘em.”

“Papers?” Cynda queried.

“Yes, ma’am. Mom and Dad always told me that everything anybody would need would be in that safe.”

“Safe?” Carstairs followed.

Mandy nodded. “Yessir. One of those fireproof boxes. It’s in the closet in their bedroom.”

“We’ll go get that as soon as we leave here,” I said.

“That might be very helpful. Ben, in regard to your mom and dad, well, the house was paid off. You split ownership between yourself and Miss Amanda. Life insurance. In addition to the policies he has through his employer, he carried a sizable policy on the side. Again, between you and Amanda.”

“Brings a question,” I started. “What about Amanda? Legal status. She’ll be fourteen in two weeks...”

“Week and a half,” Mandy corrected.

“Okay...” Carstairs intoned. “Uh...” He looked at me. “Other relatives?”

Mandy huffed. “Even if there WERE, which there aren’t, I wanna stay with Uncle Ben.”

“You do get a say, dear, but we have to make it look good for the family court judge.”

“Mister McLean,” I interjected, “Did Mom and Dad ever discuss that I have a condition?”

“No. What sort of condition?”

“I’m on the spectrum for Asperger’s. So’s Mandy. We sort of form our own support group.”

“But not like you’re institutionalized, right?”

“No sir. I do have a doctor following my progress. Same one takes care of Mandy. But nothing like a leash or anything. I mean, I work a full-time job at an engineering house. I’m a functioning engineer.”

“And I’m a functioning middle school student,” Mandy inserted.

“Then we won’t say a darned thing,” Carstairs said. “Cynda, how about getting one of the paralegals to cobble up a set of paperwork. Custody, guardianship, et cetera.”

“Got it.”

“I assume you’re up to this, Ben?” he popped, eying me.

My defender jumped in. “Uncle Ben’s been taking care of me since I was a baby.” I guess, for the first time a bit of a reality dawned on her. “If I wasn’t with HIM the other day, I would’ve been in the car with everybody else.”

“She’s my responsibility, sir,” I stated. I hugged Mandy because she was beginning to tear up again.

“Well, you’re the keeper of a teenaged girl, Ben. May God have mercy on your soul.” He smiled. “I survived two teen daughters.”

He shoved a paper to me. “This is the first run through your parents’ insurance. Your dad has some investments, too, and we’re in the process of getting a handle on those, but this here will make sure you don’t starve. Full insurance payouts with double indemnity clauses. Your dad was taking good care of you all.”

Seven figures. Low end of seven figures, but still seven figures.

I knew that Kathy used to laugh about Dallas and his provisions for his family. “He has to be nice to me because I could get enough money to pay off a hit man and become a very attractive widow.”

Of course I wasn’t too worried anyway. I made good money with my job, and I just couldn’t see a world where putting up with Mandy would’ve strained the bank.

Cynda delicately laid out the plans for disposal of remains and a combined memorial service to be held at Mom and Dad’s church – the same church where Kathy and Dallas were married.

I brought them up to date on Sara’s offer to help clear the two houses.

“You could just pick one and live there, of course,” Cynda advised.

Mandy shook her head. “Every time I’d open the door, I’d see what – who’s not there.”

“My sentiments,” I said. “Mom and Dad were talking about selling and getting a retirement cottage,” I added.

“Then clear ‘em out and put ‘em on the market. You can price ‘em to get the most money, or you can price ‘em to sell fast, or something in between.”

“That’s the way I see it.”

“Well, your mom and dad’s insurance, we can get that fast, probably have checks by the end of the week. You might wanna grab a financial advisor about somewhere to put it. It’s gonna be a chunk.” He eyed Mandy. “For both of you.”

“I know who to call,” I said.

“And for the rest, we’ll be doing our thing here. We’ll keep you advised as to progress.”

“If you can get us those papers,” Cynda reminded.

“Next stop,” I said.

We walked out to the car and got in.

“I saw that number, Uncle Ben. Half of that’s MINE?”

“Yes, baby, it is.”

“Plus what Mom and Dad did for me?”

“That too.”

“That’s a lot.”

“College, house, whatever. You’re pretty well set for life unless the world ends. Won’t be RICH rich, but if you’re halfway sensible, you won’t have to break a sweat.”

“Why would I need a house? I’m stayin’ with you. They said...”

“You’re thirteen. Your thoughts may change.”

“You remember when we went sailing that time and got caught in that thunderstorm?”

I vividly remember it. Almost couldn’t get the sails down fast enough, heavy wind gusts, cloud to ground (or water) lightning, making hull speed running under bare poles. Fighting the helm, soaked to the skin, water running off me like garden statuary, Mandy watching from the hatch.

“Remember when it was over. What’d I say to you?”

“That we got through it together...”

“And...”

“Benjamanda. You said we were Benjamanda.”

“That’s right. A unit that could withstand storms. This is a storm, Uncle Ben. And we’re Benjamanda.”

So, okay. She’s adamant right now, and I can easily live with that. Doesn’t mean it will be easy if she decides otherwise at some future date. Who knows? We may morph into some sort of big brother – little sister arrangement. Or, I guess uncle and niece works.

We grabbed burgers for lunch. Next stop was Mandy’s school. By now, the news was out. Several people in the office made comforting noises. Mandy received the attention with body language I recognized as not acting very receptive. I explained the new position I was in. “I’ll bring official paperwork in as soon as I get it. In the meantime, I think it’d be best if we keep Mandy out of school until next week.”

The assistant principal, nice lady, it appeared, concurred with that.

“Mister Comeaux, we’d appreciate a conference with you when things are settled as to Amanda’s legal guardianship.”

“We’ll do that,” I said. “Trying to lay out the best of paths for Mandy here.”

I knew that my own experiences in school were somewhat bumpy. I surmised that Mandy’s might be, as well. Being ‘different’ in school was problematic, and Mandy was doubly so –’on the spectrum’ and exceedingly intelligent.

Phone call from Barb instructing me to call Sara. That conversation resulted in me dropping off housekeys to Mom and Dad’s place as well as Mandy’s home.

“We’re going to clear out the refrigerators and freezers,” the lady said. “Do you want anything?”

“No, I don’t guess.”

“Pantries. Canned foods and such will go to the food bank of their church.”

“Makes sense to me,” I said.

“And once that’s done, the next step is for you to remove or at least mark things you wish to keep. After that, we’ll set up for estate sales and then donate or haul off the rest. Barb said you wanted both houses ready to sell?”

“Correct,” I said.

“We can do a final cleaning and take care of yard work and such,” the lady said. “I’ll text you our rate sheet.”

“That will be fine.”

I hung up, turned to Mandy. “Baby, it might be painful, but we need to move your stuff to my house.”

“OUR house,” she corrected.

“Our house,” I affirmed.

We limited the incursion to gathering clothes, including a tasteful, somber-looking dress for the memorial service.

“We’ll get somebody to come in and haul the rest of this for us,” I said.

“Including Moofer.” ‘Moofer’ was the abnormally large stuffed rhinoceros I’d bought her when she was eight; we’d had an epic discussion of the relative coolness of rhinos versus hippos.

“I thought you’d outgrown him.”

“Nope. My bed partner. Given to me by my favorite uncle.” Smile.

“Your ONLY uncle.”

Headshake. “Nope. Had dozens of prospects. Aunt Barb paraded ‘em through for a while.” Snicker/smirk. “YOU could’ve been my double uncle. Brother to my mom AND married to my aunt.”

“Don’t be evil.”

“You don’t belong with Aunt Barb.”

“I said that.”

“I know. Sometimes reinforcement is necessary.”

“You’re a strange little girl.”

Snicker. “Told to me by people who have no idea. You at least have the beginnings of knowing how strange...”

“Because you’re me,” I said.

“Scary.” Pause. “It really is scary. Not being you, I mean. I’m talking about the future.”

“I know, baby. I figured on having Mom and Dad around for at least another twenty years.”

“I know. Mom and Dad had trouble understanding me sometimes. I really do feel bad for all the times I had episodes and messed up things. It couldn’t’ve been easy being my parents.”

“You were a bright spot, too, little one. They always bragged about your school work...”