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Over the next few days, sleep eluded Luke. Guilt and confusion washed together at night, materializing as brief, horrific nightmares.
He called out of school for the week, though really, he should have gone in and pushed through. Teaching may have been a good distraction.
Liesel had taken the reins on funeral planning, but Luke still showed up for that, drained of energy and quiet.
Truthfully, he ought to have been well prepared to arrive at the hospital and handle it. He should have known that his life would be vivisected yet again.
Just like it had when his dad died. There was the beforetime and the after.
Still, despite her blood clot and extended hospital stay, the beforetime in the case of his Mamaw felt bizarrely mundane. He was eating lunch with Mark, complaining about bus duty and lesson plans. He paid his bill. He took note of a pretty stranger and then strolled to his truck in disappointment after he witnessed her reunite with a boyfriend. He followed the speed limit all the way to Hickory Grove Regional Medical Center, playing ‘90s country music and tapping his thumb on the steering wheel.
It turned out that Liesel had dramatically downplayed the situation. All she asked him to do was come to the hospital. So, he did.
He arrived at the same exact time as Father Van, the parish priest from Little Flock. They rode up in the elevator together. Even then, however, Luke did not connect the dots. When, in eerie silence, the two walked in tandem to the same hospital room, it finally clicked.
Luke fell apart. Throughout the Last Rites, Luke and Liesel sobbed without restraint.
Even during the funeral, which drew in a modest but faithful crowd of mourners (mostly relatives and even his own mother), the experience felt both uncomfortably intimate and strangely remote. Perhaps the issue was that Luke compared it to his father’s funeral, in which he was the heart of everything. The well-wishers and the grief were all his.
At Mamaw Hart’s funeral, the grief was more Liesel’s. Liesel, his spinster aunt in her too-perfect funeral ensemble of black lace and buggy sunglasses. She was crushed, no doubt about that. But she was, well, ready. And Mamaw was even Liesel’s own mother. He started wondering if death grew easier with time. It was a thought that haunted him, playing a stark reminder that Luke had hardly even lived yet.
The following week, he threw himself into work, calling the football team out of their summer break for two-a-days and staying up until ten watching tape.
By late June, he was prepared for the new school year, even if it wasn’t starting for another two months. However, he was not prepared for the phone call he’d get from Zack Durbin.
Zack was a local family law attorney who, apparently, Mamaw Hart had hired to handle her final affairs.
“Zack, hi. How are you?” Initially, Luke figured Zack was calling to check in. That’s how small towns worked after all. People cared. And Zack and Luke were no strangers.
Soon enough, he learned there was more to the phone call than a show of sympathy.
If Luke had the emotional energy, he’d bluff and claim that he was managing or some fancy word. But he was not managing. “It’s been a bad week.”
On the other end of the line, Zack cleared his throat. “I know. I’m real sorry, Luke.” He cleared his throat again. “Listen, I have Liesel here with me, in my office. Your grandmother had indicated Liesel would serve as the executor for her estate, so we are going through various documents.”
“Right,” Luke replied, trying to shake out his tension by tossing a baseball up and catching it in a mitt. The first summer school session had just wrapped up, and the entire month of July stretched before him. He was less interested in his free time than usual and had already begun to jump ahead in his mind to other chores he might take on. Plus, he wasn’t dumb. Luke figured Liesel would need his help. “Did Liesel get the bed-and-breakfast? I meant to touch base with her about it. I’m happy to help put it on the market or do whatever she’d like to get situated.” It was true. He did intend to bring it up to his aunt. Just as soon as he was certain he wouldn’t break into sobs talking to her. Their light text messages over the past week had been limited to the basics. Nothing regarding an estate. But Luke knew it would come up. Maybe he’d get his granddad’s tools. Or even Mamaw’s Buick. But those things just weren’t on his mind. In fact, he was actively pushing them out of his mind.
He secured the ball in the mitt with a rubber band, snapping it in place then tossing it into a nearby chair as he stood and stretched.
“Actually, it might be a good idea for you to come up to my office. It doesn’t have to be now, but we need to square a few things away. There is some paperwork for you, and yes—the bed-and-breakfast requires a conversation, too.”
A sigh slipped between Luke’s lips, and he pushed a fist into his lower back, turning into a stretch. “I’m free now.”
***
Less than fifteen minutes later, Luke was sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to his aunt, whose red-rimmed eyes betrayed her composure. He’d offered her a hug before he sat but kept his gaze away. If he and Liesel had looked at each other, it’d be all over for him, too.
“Thanks for coming in, Luke.” Zack steepled his fingers over a thick leather binder. “Liesel has asked me to share the breakdown, so I figure I’ll get started. Is that all right?”
Luke nodded, frowning to himself.
“Your grandmother was a smart lady. She earmarked the lion share of her personal effects for the two of you.” The lawyer nodded to Liesel and Luke in turn. “I have a pretty clear list of who gets what regarding her heirlooms, photo albums, furniture, and so forth. Liesel has been assigned the Buick.”
Luke’s head snapped up, surprised though not disappointed. “Oh?”
His aunt glanced at him, a small smile spreading across her face. “I’m happy to sell it to you for a reasonable price.”
He grinned back and shook his head. “That’s okay. I’ve got my truck.”
“However, your grandmother was more ambiguous in the endowment of her income property, The Hickory Grove Inn and the home behind it.”
Mamaw and Grandad Hart had inherited the bed-and-breakfast and the next-door residential property from Mamaw’s parents. Mamaw lived in the second property until very recently, at which point she let it sit, hopeful that they’d find someone to live there and run the front desk.
To Luke, that plan sounded like something straight out of an Alfred Hitchcock Film. Liesel, however, liked the idea of keeping the place in the family but at arm’s length.
The Hickory Grove Inn prided itself on being the best lodging in town. It kept to an outdated hospitality model in which guests could only register by phone or in person. Rooms rented cheaply on a nightly basis, and a full breakfast was served every morning. Mamaw had also offered an afternoon tea and evening sherry and dessert. Quaint didn’t quite describe the whole experience, or so Luke was told by those he knew who’d stayed there.
In more recent years, there was talk of Mamaw selling the place—Liesel’s idea after it quickly became clear that there was a shortage in the workforce. No one in town who led so simple a life that they could give it all up for a local landmark that didn’t even belong to them.
Mamaw didn’t agree and felt the place ought to go directly to her descendants. Unfortunately, there were only two of those left, and neither one was the type to take on a bed-and-breakfast. Liesel, despite her perfect exterior and vicious drive, focused on the church. All of her energy went into Little Flock. Every last ounce. Despite being unwed and childless, her heart and time were spoken for.
Luke, on the other hand, had the time. Plus, his heart wasn’t yet spoken for. But, well, he was a thirty-something-year-old guy who preferred tinkering over simple chores like changing the oil in his truck and mowing the grass in his free time. Not passing out brochures and positioning squares of chocolate on some stranger’s pillow. He was more HGTV than Hallmark. Leaky pipe? He’d handle it. Decorate the gift shop for Christmas? Hard pass.
He swallowed and exchanged another look with Liesel. Her eyebrows had furrowed, and lines formed like rivulets on her forehead. Liesel had always held age at bay, keeping clear of the sun (though her naturally olive complexion would suggest otherwise) and watching what she ate. She kept fashionable despite a modest income as the secretary and religious education director for Little Flock Catholic.
“What do you mean ambiguous?” Luke asked.
“She didn’t specify an heir.”
“It goes to Liesel, though. Right?” He hooked a thumb at his aunt, whose expression turned unreadable. She licked her lips and shrugged her shoulders. “Shouldn’t it be Liesel? Mamaw’s daughter?”
“Well, it’s the reason the estate has fallen into probate. We have to come to an agreement on what happens to the place.”
The answer was simple. Bed and breakfasts weren’t for men. He wasn’t the type who could turn a bed or work a cash register. He didn’t know diddly squat about the hospitality business.
Then again, maybe Liesel didn’t, either.
“You can list the properties and split the profit once they sell. Your mamaw owned it free and clear.” Zack leaned back, one hand outspread as if it was the only option. As if this was all simple and quick.
Twisting in his seat, Luke pinned his aunt with a hard stare. “Is that the right choice? What if we try again to find someone to help run the place? Maybe Stella could take on the nightshift in the interim. Or, if she can’t do it, I suppose I could stay there the rest of the summer. Until school starts.” They had hired Stella, a kindly local, to run the front desk. She began once Mamaw moved from the house next to the Inn into the assisted living facility. She was no work horse, but she got them through. But she alone wouldn’t be enough. Liesel had filled in where she could, but the place really needed a live-in property manager.
Liesel shook her head. “That’s a short-term solution, Luke.”
“Maybe we should sell.” Luke felt a knot form in his throat. If they were discussing this pre-Mamaw’s death, he’d feel more secure in that decision. But now, with his only direct ancestral link to the Hart family dead and gone, he felt differently. Anxious about the right path. Uncertain about the future. Everything flipped now that it was after.
Liesel squeezed her eyes shut and delicately pressed the pad of her ring finger to the corner of each.
“What about Grandad’s brothers and sisters? Is there someone who might have a serious interest?” Luke asked.
“Gary Hart.” Liesel heaved a deep sigh after the name fell from her mouth.
Even Zack grimaced.
Luke just shook his head then looked up at Zack. “Has Gary asked about it?”
When Zack glanced to his right then down at the leather binder, Luke had his answer.
“It can’t go to Gary, Liesel,” Luke pleaded.
She nodded quietly. “I agree. But it’s a big commitment, Luke. I would do it if I could, but... oh, I don’t know. I hate to see someone else take the place. I mean, I know I wanted that a while back, but...” her voice trailed off and tears began a slow descent down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to brush them away and instead folded her arms over her chest, sobbing quietly.
Luke reached out, offering his hand to his aunt. She took it, and he squeezed gently. “Zack,” he began, forcing himself to keep it together. “I’ll take care of The Hickory Grove Inn. We’ll keep it. We have to.”
But the lawyer didn’t seem satisfied. “This could be complicated. The deed can, technically, go into both of your names. Are you sure you want that? It would tie you both to the properties, for better or worse.”
Liesel lifted her shoulders weakly. “If we don’t keep it, Gary Hart will buy it. You know he will. He’ll turn it into a gym or an office space, and poof. There goes the past.”
And just like that, Luke’s summer was spoken for.