Chapter 6: Whatever Comes Next

Connie stood behind Tom, her arms wrapped around his waist as he guided the Lady across the gulf, heading toward the entrance to Howe Sound. The wind was brisk, and had shifted more to the west, helping make the passage quicker than they expected. The traffic was light, typical for a Monday morning. Not everyone had the luxury of playing hooky that day.

She thought back to last night and earlier that morning and to the beginning of their "affair," as she thought of it. It had caught her by surprise, so unlike what she expected from Tom. It was later, after they had calmed down and talked that she rediscovered the Tom Lynch from last night. They had made love. That's what it really was ... love. He had worshipped her body and had lifted her to a number of orgasms, mild and strong. It was perfect.

Veronica hadn't been bragging. It was a fact; he was a magnificent lover. She had never been so content in all her life. All she wanted to do was to be with him, to hold him as she did now, not losing contact with him for a moment. This was what she had imagined, what she had dreamed of for all those years. And now it was coming to pass. She had never felt this happy in her entire life.

As luck would have it, they arrived back at Fisherman's Cove on a half-tide, and docking the boat wasn't as challenging. Connie stood on the dock with the fore and aft lines, quickly tying them off as Tom carefully moved the big craft into place; first the stern, then the bow. They silently loaded their gear onto a nearby cart and pushed it up the ramp toward the parking lot.

They rode in silence to Tom's home, each lost in thought about the consequences of this past weekend. Their relationship had changed irrevocably; there was no going back. Then again, neither of them wanted to revert to their previous status. For their own reasons, they wanted to continue down the path they had mutually chosen. Connie was the more desperate to see it through, but Tom was resolved as well. He'd made a decision and he would stick to it. The only question now was when they would let "others" know about this change.

"Come in," Tom said as they pulled into his driveway. "I doubt the boys are home, so we can relax and talk a bit."

Connie nodded, turning off the ignition and pulling the hand brake. Tom pulled the two containers out of the back hatch while Connie picked up his overnight bag. He tried the front door, but as usual it was locked. He inserted his key and opened the door, ushering her in ahead of him.

"Anybody home?" he called.

No one answered immediately, but a few moments later Mrs. Calderone, the housekeeper, looked tentatively out of the laundry room and into the kitchen.

"Oh ... it's you, Mr. Lynch. I wasn't expecting you. Vernon said you were sailing and wouldn't be home until later."

"Yes," Tom smiled. "Miss Fairly and I caught a nice stiff breeze today and got back early. Everything all right?"

"Yes, sir. Tony is at the factory and Vernon went to the university to see about some courses and books or something. Did you have a nice weekend?" she asked.

"Yes ... very nice. We went to Saturna Island. Lovely weather all the way."

The middle-aged woman smiled and went back to the laundry room, sorting and folding clothes from the dryer.

Tom reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a large bottle of Pino Grigio that was already open. Taking two glasses from the cupboard above, he poured a glass for each of them, then motioned to her to step onto the back deck. Again, Connie led and Tom followed, sitting in chairs around the glass-topped table in the middle of the deck.

"She's not a busy-body, but I don't want her listening in on our conversation," he said.

Connie nodded agreement and sipped her wine.

After a couple of false starts, Tom began. "So ... where do we go from here, Connie? Is it too soon to talk to our parents or the boys?"

She didn't answer immediately, gazing into her wine glass.

"Probably," she said a length. "I don't feel pressured to tell anyone yet, Tom. We really haven't even begun to get used to the idea that we are going to be together. I have a feeling we both have a lot to learn about each other."

"Now you're starting to sound like me. What happened to the woman who said 'damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead?'" he chuckled. "Are you having second thoughts?"

She shook her head violently. "No ... absolutely not! I waited too long for this ... now I'm going to enjoy every moment of it. I just ... I just don't want to hurt anyone. I guess my mother is most on my mind. And yours too. They might be upset if they thought we were rushing things."

"What about the boys?" he asked.

"I'm not so worried about them. I wouldn't be surprised that they didn't already have a clue, based on my being here so often. I feel really comfortable around them, and I think they feel the same way around me."

"Maybe it's just teenage lust," he joked.

"You think?" she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Raging hormones are common in the youth, male and female."

She laughed. "Well, I'd be flattered, but not interested. As nice as they are, I've got the hots for their father."

Tom went silent, looking out over the back yard. After a couple of minutes, he turned to Connie.

Connie reached out and took his hand, squeezing it in confirmation. She wanted to go to him and hug him closely and tell him it was all right, but she didn't. What neither of them saw was Mrs. Calderone, watching through the kitchen window and smiling.

Nothing was decided that afternoon aside from not yet wanting to reveal their mutual attraction to the family yet. They were hoping they could see each other regularly and keep their relationship quiet for another three months before they revealed it. Tom was doubtful that they would be successful for that long, but he would try.

It worked for a while. August turned out to be hot and dry as usual. Tom and Connie took every opportunity to get out on the Lady on the weekends. Neither of the boys seemed interested and had any number of excuses why they couldn't go. Neither he nor Connie was disappointed, of course. It gave them the privacy to spend intimate personal time together.

When the boys went back to school, little seemed to change for Tom. He was cheered by the fact that they would be home almost every night. The turmoil following Veronica's death had blunted the interlude from mid-April to June. During their summer vacations, Vern had been sharing his time between studying and writing his scholarship examinations and his latest girlfriend, while Tony went immediately to work at Lynchpin Plastics, this summer being assigned to quality assurance for all three months.

Tom had his own work to keep him occupied. He thought about Connie every day, marking time they could get together more often than just on the weekends. He was becoming more certain of his love for her. His mind no longer dredged up memories of Veronica. That was a relief. His dreams no longer featured her, either. The sexually voracious Connie had removed all those images. In fact, he discovered he hardly thought of Veronica at all these days.

What brought it back all over again was a call one September Wednesday morning from their family lawyer, Malachi Wise.

"Hello, Tom. It's been quite some time since we talked. How are you?" the older gentleman asked.

"Fine, Malachi. I'm doing okay. To what do I owe the honour of your call?" he joked.

"Actually, Tom, I was wondering why you hadn't come in to talk about Veronica's will? Perhaps I should have called sooner, but since I hadn't heard from you, there didn't seem to be any urgency to it."

"Her will? I hadn't even given it a thought. I'd forgotten she had one, to be honest. I only thought about my will and making sure it was up to date. Besides, she hasn't been declared officially dead yet ... just missing and presumed drowned."

"Yes ... that's true, but it doesn't preclude our assuming her death and opening the will for review. We just can't take any action on its provisions. Why don't we make an appointment and go over that and a few other loose ends from her estate?"

"Sure. I'll make myself available to you. When would be convenient?"

"How about Friday? Come in just before noon and we can have lunch together. I'd like to catch up on how you and the family are doing," he said.

"I'd like that, Malachi. See you at your office near noon on Friday, then."

When Tom hung up the phone, he sat back in his office chair. He hadn't given any thought to Veronica's financial or personal affairs after the funeral. It was true he'd forgotten the will, but when Malachi mentioned "other loose ends," he wondered what that might include.

When Tom arrived at Malachi Wise's office on Friday, he found the man chatting with his secretary, waiting for him.

"Hello, Tom," he said, extending his hand. "It's been far too long since we've gotten together," the white-haired man smiled.

"What time do you have to be back?" Tom asked, assuming Malachi had afternoon an appointment or two."

"No rush. I cleared my calendar on Friday afternoons years ago. There had to be some benefit for success."

They conversed amiably as they walked down the street toward a well-known restaurant. Tom held the door as they entered and the maitre d' immediately greeted Malachi familiarly. They were seated within a minute and a waiter took their order for drinks.

"How are you, Tom? Holding up alright after that dreadful accident?"

"Yes. Much better now, thank you. I've come to accept that she's gone and I have many years yet to go if I'm lucky. I'll make a new life ... you can count on that."

"That's great. I'm really pleased to hear that. I was thinking the other day that it didn't seem that long ago that you lost your father ... and now Veronica. That must have been very difficult to deal with."

Tom nodded but didn't comment.

"Well ... enough of that. Tell me about what you've been doing. Have you been out on the boat at all?"

"Yes. Several times. Mostly with Connie ... Veronica's sister. She's helped pull me out of my blues and keep me active."

"That's wonderful. And how are the boys?"

"Fine. Both back in school and as far as I can tell, doing well. It's early yet, so I'll know more around Christmas I guess."

They ate in a comfortable silence as two friends might. Despite the age difference, Tom had always enjoyed meeting and working with Malachi Wise. He was nothing like the stereotypical television lawyer. He was quiet, humorous, thoughtful, and wise. His advice was almost always the right advice.

As they finished their meal and accepted an offered coffee, Malachi turned his attention to the reason for their meeting.

"Tom, did you know that Veronica made an addendum to her will only a couple of weeks before she ... disappeared?"

"No ... no, I didn't. What kind of addendum?" he asked, puzzled by this information.

"I don't know. She gave me a letter, sealed, addressed to you and to be included with the will. As far as the basics in the will, nothing changed, only the addition of the letter. Since you have a copy of her will, I see no reason you can't read the letter now."

"And this happened shortly before the accident?"

"Yes," Malachi said. "March 29^th, just short of three weeks before that terrible weekend."

"I can't imagine what it would be about. I guess I won't know until I read it. Why don't we go back to your office and deal with everything," Tom suggested.

"Of course. Let me get the bill," he volunteered. If there was anything Tom knew about Malachi it was that the bill wouldn't show up on any billing later.

They walked the five minutes back to his office and Malachi closed the door behind them after having asked his secretary not to interrupt them. He sat behind the big cherry desk that had been his father's before him, leaning back in a comfortable, large leather chair. He looked every part the gentleman lawyer.

He took a folder from his centre desk drawer, laid it in front of him and opened it. He took out the original of the will, a cream coloured envelope, and some miscellaneous papers.

"Nothing's been changed in the body of her will since you both filed them with me, so unless you want to refresh your memory, I can leave that. I assume you have a copy at home or in your safe deposit box?" he asked.

"Yes. Both our copies are in there."

"Then the only thing to concern yourself with is this envelope. I don't know what it contains, so if you'd like to open it in private, I'll leave the room until you are finished."

"Thank you," Tom said as Malachi rose and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

He picked up the envelope and stared at it. It was a heavy paper, quality paper, with a single name printed in ink on its front: "Tom." He had a sinking feeling about what it might contain. He was initially reluctant to open it, but at length, his curiosity got the better of him. He borrowed Malachi's letter opener and slit the top flap. Inside were several pages of similar paper. As he unfolded them, he saw Veronica's distinctive, stylishly neat handwriting. He felt his stomach clench, giving him momentary pause before he began to read.