“How…? What…?” I stuttered and looked to Anita for
help. She, however, stood silently with her arms folded across her chest and looked
from Andrew to me and back again.
Andrew smiled at me. There was not a trace of his usual condescending hostility
in the smile, and I didn’t know what to make of that. “I drove around
with the cat in the box for about fifteen minutes before he started yowling,”
he began. Then he stood up. “Do sit down, Mother,” he said gently,
indicating the chair he’d just occupied.
“That’s my seat,” Laurel spoke up, but he ignored her and continued
to urge me to sit.
“It’s all right, Andrew,” I said. “Laurel was sitting
there.”
He looked blank for a moment, as if he’d forgotten who Laurel was. Then
he sat down again. “Very well,” he continued. “The cat began
to yowl, as I was saying. Then he started to rattle the box. I pulled over by
the side of the road and looked back to see that he had gotten part of the lid
open and was tearing at the rest. So I knew I had to get him somewhere safe or
else he’d be tearing around inside the car.”
He sighed. “Your home was the only place I could think of that was close
by. I remembered from childhood that you’d always left a key under that
large plant on the back step. I hoped it was still there, and fortunately it was.”
“You went to my house?”
Andrew nodded. “I’d have phoned to ask your permission first, of course,
but I know you never turn on your cell phone.”
Anita chortled. “She never even takes it out of the car.”
I glared at her. “I hate it when those things go off in public.”
Anita nodded. “So do I. But you can put it on vibrate.”
I sniffed disdainfully. “I don’t want some electronic doohickey giving
me a massage I’m not expecting.” I glared at Andrew. “You could
have phoned here,” I said accusingly,
He nodded. “I did. Tried anyway. But the phone just rang and rang. I guess
the answering machine isn’t working.”
“It’s off,” Laurel piped up. “I always turn it off when
I’m home.”
“In any case,” Andrew continued, “I dragged the box of screaming,
clawing cat into the house and released him.” He held up his left hand.
“Got more than a few scratches for my trouble. I’d forgotten about
the kitten though.” He shook his head ruefully. “Foolish of me. When
they saw each other, all hell broke loose.”
Anita chuckled. “I can well believe it.”
Andrew smiled a little nervously. “Well, the cats chased each other, and
I chased both of them. I wanted to keep them from killing each other and from
doing any damage to the house or its furnishings.” He sighed and shook his
head. “You’d think father and daughter would get along better than
that!” He addressed me with his next remark. “Eventually the kitten
ran into Father’s study, and Roadblock followed. I heard the sound of falling
books, and when I finally caught up with them, the kitten was high on the shelf
where Wordsworth’s poems had been a few moments earlier. Roadblock had gotten
onto the desk and was trying to jump up on the shelf from there, but he couldn’t
quite manage. He’s a hefty one, isn’t he?”
Dennison cleared his throat loudly, but Laurel was the only one to pay him any
mind. She stared at him briefly, rolled her eyes, and began to pick at the edge
of her sweater.
Andrew was too caught up in his narrative to pay attention to either one of them.
“So I was going after Roadblock. I almost had him when he slipped out of
my grasp and kicked a whole pile of papers from the desk onto the floor. Then
he raced out the door.” Andrew paused for a breath. “I followed him
into the living room. He was on the sofa, lying like a pile of limp wool. I thought
maybe he’d had a heart attack from the chase, but he was just resting. When
I went over to him, he lifted his head and let out a small grunt. I decided to
leave him in peace and check on the kitten.”
Dennison grumbled something under his breath that sounded like, “Stay tuned,”
and Laurel giggled in response. Dennison looked at her and smiled faintly. She
smiled back.
“The kitten was still high up on the bookshelf. I was afraid she couldn’t
get down, so I walked back to the storage room and brought a ladder back. Once
I’d set it up so that I’d be able to reach her when I got to the top
and started to climb, she hopped sideways and nimbly leaped down, first to a lower
shelf, then to the top of the old mahogany chest of drawers, and finally to the
floor. By the time I’d gotten down off the ladder, she had disappeared.
I walked out to the living room and saw her perched on the window ledge where
she could keep an eye on Roadblock while enjoying the late afternoon sun.”
He chuckled. “I went back into the study to pick the papers off the floor,
and my name jumped out at me from the one lying atop the mess.” He looked
at me and made a face. They were Father’s letters to you,” he informed
me, as if I didn’t know. “The ones he wrote while you were separated.”
He sighed. “Why did you have them out on the desk?”
I was about to tell him I didn’t owe him an explanation when it registered
that his question was not the usual challenge. He really wanted to know.
“I was rereading them, trying to figure out what I should have done,”
I replied honestly.
“Done about what?” he asked.
“About you and James. After all that had happened, I trusted your father
to tell you the truth when he’d promised to do so. But recently I began
to wonder if he had.” I grimaced and suppressed an urge to wring my hands.
“He did,” Andrew said, “or at least part of it. But he told
us in a way that made us think you were unreasonable and that he was humoring
you in order to bring us all back together as a family. Then a months after you
let him come back, he told us we were going off to military school” He shook
his head. “We blamed you, of course.”
“What do you mean by ‘of course’?” I demanded. “I
did everything I could to keep you at home.”
“Except throw him out again,” Andrew replied, a faint, bitter smile
playing around his lips. “It was hardest on James. He felt that you’d
rejected us in favor of Phoebe. And he hated military school with a passion.”
“I know that, Andrew,” I said, trying to control my annoyance. “So
you read my letters.”
He nodded. “Yes, I did. And I now understand a lot that I didn’t before.
And I’m sorry for a lot of the conclusions I drew that were inaccurate.”
He took a deep breath. “I also saw her picture.”
For a moment I didn’t know whose picture he meant, then I realized it had
to be Jenny. I had one in the folder with Lawrence’s letters to me.
I stared at him, and he smiled.
“She was beautiful,” he said softly. “And Phoebe doesn’t
look a thing like her.” He grimaced. “I have to admit that she does
look a lot like Father though. More so every year.”
“Well, she is his daughter,” I replied gently.
He nodded. “He told us he wasn’t sure, you know. But he was willing
to take her in because it meant so much to you.” Andrew stared blindly at
the wall behind my head. “But in the letters he admits she’s his.”
He shook his head. “Why did he lie to us?”
I couldn’t bring myself to answer his question, but Anita stepped in. “He
wanted, no, he needed your respect and your good opinion. I doubt that he realized
initially that gaining your respect would mean that he’d have to ruin your
relationship with you mother and do lasting damage to your opinion of her.”
She sighed. “I hope you can put things to rights now. Not only between your
mother and you but also between her and James.”
Andrew nodded. “But I still don’t like the idea of having that dammed
funeral parlor bear my name. It gives me the creeps.” He glared from me
to Anita and back again, as if challenging us to change his mind.
“That’s an easy problem to solve,” Anita said, with a smile.
“Once Phoebe and Steven take over the business, it can be renamed.”
She looked at me. “Is Phoebe going to call herself Mrs. Shields?”
I shook my head. “No. We had a long conversation about that. She doesn’t
want to take Steven’s name. She wants to continue to call herself Euler,
though, of course, she’s never legally been a Euler.”
Andrew and Anita stared at me in consternation. “I thought Lawrence and
you adopted her,” Anita said finally.
I shook my head. “No, I couldn’t persuade him. That’s why I
have always referred to her as my ward, not my stepdaughter.”
“So what is her last name?” Andrew demanded. “Legally, I mean.”
“I suppose she is still technically Phoebe Andrews since Jenny was Jennifer
Andrews.”
“Well, I like Shields better,” Andrew announced. “If Phoebe
and Steven agree to change the name of the business to Shields’, I’m
willing to relinquish my claim to it. And I’m sure that James, once he knows
what the letters contain, will do so too.”
I could hardly believe it would be that easy, but for the first time I had some
hope that the endless feud that had torn my family apart for so many years might
end before I closed my eyes for the last time.
“This is all very touching, I’m sure,” I heard Dennison say,
“but it’s highly inappropriate that our hearing be turned into a family
reunion.” He stood up. “I’m going to leave now, Miss Carswell.
All you’ve done is drag me from my home to downtown to this house, and we
are no closer to resolving the issue of my pens than we were before we started.
I shall contact my attorney and issue a complaint to the town managers. And I
shall take this matter to a real court instead of relying on an incompetent, semi-senile
woman to resolve it.”
“Oh, sit down and shut up, Dennison!” Anita said. “You always
were a pompous ass.”
“Really!” Laurel exclaimed. “That’s a very rude thing
to say, Miss Carswell.”
“Rude?” Andrew shouted at her. “After what that lout said, her
reply was measured and restrained. What is wrong with you, Laurel?”
“What’s wrong with me?” she repeated. “What’s wrong
with you?”
They glared at each other while I made eye contact with Anita, who was suppressing
a smile and trying to look stern. I had no idea what she was smiling about, since
she’d just been called incompetent and semi-senile. She winked at me and
said softly, “I’m so glad for you, Marian.” I felt tears come
to my eyes but hastily brushed them away. “Hmmph!” I replied just
as softly, “we’ll see what comes of it.”
Dennison had continued standing. Emboldened by Laurel’s support, he stared
from Andrew to Anita and back again. “I stand by what I said,” he
growled. “And I’ll thank you not to call me names.”
“I’ll call you what I like,” Andrew replied. “I suggest
you apologize to Miss Carswell immediately, if you don’t want to be called
worse than a lout.”
“Stop it, both of you!” Anita said firmly. She turned to Dennison
and said, “Either sit down or leave. It makes no difference to me. I’ve
reached my conclusion and will communicate it to your lawyer. I’m sure he’ll
pass it on to you in time.” She peered at him intently. “Of course,
you’ll have to pay him for that.”
Dennison sat down. He grimaced. “All right, say what you have to say, please,
Miss Carswell.”
Anita nodded. “All right, Mr. Wayne. First of all, you are free to reject
any suggestions I make. However, you should be aware that if you choose to litigate,
the fees that your attorney will require in order to represent you will be at
least half the value of the pens about which you are quarreling, pens whose value
has already been diminished by your selling off their boxes.”
“And by her inking them,” Dennison interjected.
Miss Carswell sighed and looked at him as if he were a very slow student indeed.
Laurel shook her head. “I only inked sixteen of them,” she said. “There
are hundreds.”
Dennison just grunted in response to Laurel’s comment. He smirked at Anita.
“Well?”
“No matter what you intended when you signed the document that your attorney
drew up, your signature confirms that you acquiesce to the surrender of your pens
to Mrs. Wayne.”
He snorted. “I knew this hearing was a waste of time,” he said. “You
never had any intention of giving me a fair shake.”
“Oh, I’d like to shake you all right, Mr. Wayne. You seem bound and
determined to alienate me. I don’t know if that’s because you think
that doing so will strengthen your hand in future litigation or if you are just
incapable of behaving in a mature manner.”
“You never like me,” Dennison said.
“You’re quite correct about that,” Anita replied. “However
I don’t have to like you. I just have to be objective.”
“You call your decision objective?” he shouted suddenly, jumping to
his feet again.
“Oh do be quiet!” Anita said with a sigh. “You haven’t
heard my decision yet. I’ve merely told you what I understand to be the
legal implications of your signature on the property settlement.”
Dennison sat down and grimaced at her. “Do go on then.”
Anita cleared her throat. “I believe that you stated, Mr. Wayne, that you
are in need of funds to supplement your medical insurance. Therefore, I suggest
that Mrs. Wayne allow you to take possession of the pens on the list that Mrs.
Euler was kind enough to bring with her today. Selling some or all of those should
help you pay for the cosmetic surgery that you require.”
She looked over at Laurel. “Is that all right with you, Mrs. Wayne?”
Laurel nodded. “If you think it’s fair, Miss Carswell, it’s
fine with me.” She giggled. “I think they’re ugly anyway, and
I’d certainly never use any of them.”
“You’ve no taste, Laurel,” Dennison announced superciliously.
“You never did and you never will.”
Laurel smirked at him. “Well, if those pens are so great, perhaps I should
reconsider and not let you have them after all.”
“You’re not letting me have them. Miss Carswell is ordering you to
turn them over to me.”
Laurel shook her head. “Some things never change, do they, Handsome?”
He stared at her blankly.
“I think we’re done here,” she said. She looked over at Andrew.
“Will you help me find the pens on that list, please?” She smiled
winningly, but Andrew shook his head. “I don’t know a thing about
pens, Laurel,” he replied. “Besides I need to talk to my mother.”
Laurel looked hurt, and Anita turned to me. “I’ll help Laurel out
while you and Andrew talk. Then I have to get home to Molly. Perhaps Laurel will
give me a ride.”
I looked at Laurel who nodded, but I wasn’t sure she could be counted on
to follow through. However, I didn’t have time to voice my doubts. Andrew
came over and took my arm. “I’ll walk you to your car, Mother, and
follow you home. We have a lot to talk about.”