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Meghan
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I took a sip from my fourth shot of dark roast of the morning. The early commuter rush continued well past ten A.M.
“Can you finish this order for me?” Suzie moved to the toaster. Steam poured out of the sides of the espresso machine.
“Yep.” I read the label on the side of the cup. Caramel and two pumps of vanilla. I sailed around the station, cleaning up as I made the drink.
“Kimberly,” I called the customer’s name. A toddler clung to her left leg while she balanced one of those baby carrier things on the other side of her body.
“You don’t know how much I needed this.” Her smile literally stretched from ear to ear. “You’re my hero!”
I guess being a barista can be a rewarding job.
“What can I get you?” I asked the next customer.
When he paused, I looked up from the point of service machine.
“Can I help you?” I tried again.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Are you Meghan Grace Foster?” The man wore a dark brown suit with a green tie. His hair had been combed in an attempt to hide the bald spot on the center of his head. The worst part? A thin pair of heavy silver glasses rested on the bridge of his nose like some creepy peeping Tom.
The ruckus of the coffee machines stopped.
“Who wants to know? Nadie llega a acosar a mis empleados, pero yo.” Suzie practically jumped over the counter to push the sleeze-ball back.
The middle-aged man handed me a card. “I’m Chadwick Bozeman, family attorney.”
I knew my mother had something twisted up her sleeve. What does she want? I had nothing to give her. Was she planning to force me to move back in? I’d run away just as fast as the last time. Maybe I’d run farther. Start over in a new place. A new country, perhaps.
"Estabamos ocupados. No tenemos tiempo para esto," Suzie switched to Spanish when she was frustrated. I'd say that's where Rosie learned it from, but her mom, Lucy, did it, too.
“There’s no reason for concern. It’s about your father,” the man added.
My father?
My heart stopped beating.
“What about her father?” Suzie asked when I couldn’t.
“I have a few documents to discuss with her. I’ve been looking for Meghan for quite some time. It would be great if she could stop by my office at her earliest convenience.” He handed a second card to Suzie, who nodded and stuck the card in her apron.
I held onto the counter to keep myself from falling flat onto the floor. Maybe I should have let go. My heart was already on the ground, anyway.
“Let me get you a coffee on the house. Meghan has a lot to think about.” She reached for a paper mug. “Should I leave room for cream?”
Cream, coffee, caramel... Those are things I knew. It’s the unknown I couldn’t handle.
I hadn’t ruled out the possibility of a trap from my mother. I’d seen her not long ago. Was that why she stopped by? To tell me to visit the lawyer? To tell me not to go? If it was the second, I needed to go as soon as possible. The first? I still had to go.
***
Rosie took too much time carting me around campus. When I decided to go into the city to meet with Mr. Bozeman, I opted for the bus.
The first bus along the route ran forty-five minutes late. I should have taken an uber. The second route only had one seat left, and unfortunately for me, that seat was sandwiched between two people big enough to eat me. Their arms poured way past the arm rest into my personal space.
A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead.
I closed my eyes. Maybe if I don’t look at it, the touch of the strangers’ arm won’t bother me.
The guy to my right coughed like a smoker with lung cancer, the kind of cough that lingers and makes you wonder if his heart will give out in the process. I swear a piece of phlegmy spit hit my arm.
I gagged. More than once.
I prayed long and hard for time to speed up. It took half a century for that bus to finally stop. As gracefully as I could, I climbed over Mr. Damn—How’d You Get that Big, and something swatted at my ass.
No way did he just try to cop a feel. I tried to push the thought away. If Rosie were here, she would have slapped the shit out of him. I would have too, except all I wanted was to get the hell out of that smoke ridden, god awful bus.
A block away from the stop, I spotted a sign hanging from the side of a tall brick building. I read Bozeman & Sons and breathed a little easier. A bell chimed when I opened the door.
“Hello, Dear. How can we help you?” A woman old enough to be my grandma greeted me. She looked like she lived by the mantra, “the bigger the hair, the closer to Jesus.” Her bright pink pant suit nearly blinded me.
“I’m Meghan Grace Foster. Mr. Bozeman asked me to stop by.” I kept my voice small.
“Yes! So glad you could come in! I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” The receptionist stood from the desk. “Right this way.”
Her suit had nothing on the bedazzled pumps on her feet. Never-ending rhinestones, straps for days, and how the hell did she walk on six-inch heels all day long?
No thank you.
“Can I get you some water, or a soda?” The glitzy woman asked.
“I’m okay.” Lie. A soda couldn’t fix my problems.
“Well, if you need me, just holler. Oh! Silly me. I should have introduced myself.” She giggled and swatted the air. “I’m Cindy.”
Cindy fuckin’ Woo Hoo.
“I’ll let Chadwick know you’re here.” She grabbed the doorknob, and something shimmery caught the corner of my eye.
This woman had a ring on every single finger. How could she type with those gems weighing down her hand?
I shook off the thought and took in the room. It was quaint and small. The walls probably hadn’t been re-painted since the nineties, and the wallpaper accent must have been even older. A large photo of the ocean meeting sand dunes hung on the wall. I could picture myself in the photo, walking amid the dunes and the seaside. The smell of saltwater, the screech of seagulls—that would be a good escape.
I could use a break.
I looked out the window on the opposing wall. The tall buildings of the town’s “downtown” segment haunted me.
Mr. Bozeman knocked as he entered. Why do people do that? What’s the point of knocking if they’re coming in anyway?
He set a large box on the table before initiating the typical formalities. “How are you?” Fabulous. Lie. Can we skip to the reason I’m here? I tried to rush the small talk.
“When your father passed, you were young, yes?” He asked.
I nodded, unsure if he actually wanted an answer or not.
When he didn’t speak, I continued. “My father passed away when I was in middle school. At a football game.”
“I’m sure you were aware that before you were born, he was a professional athlete. What you probably don’t know, is that your father took great care of his legal wishes. There was a plan in place for you, should he pass, well before you were born. Every year after, he came to this office to update his last will and testament.” Bozeman talked.
I listened. It was all I could to hold my head up and take it all in.
“The last year he came in, he mentioned some concerns.”
“Concerns?” I asked, not really ready for an answer.
“He and your mother were drifting apart. He was afraid she might be planning to leave both of you. He adjusted his will accordingly. We were instructed not to enact any of his wishes until your eighteenth birthday.”
“That was last year,” I whispered.
“Yes. You’ve been a bit hard to find. Your mother has been equally elusive. The coffee shop was my last attempt to find you before I involved law enforcement. Cindy typed up a missing person’s report and everything.”
My jaw dropped open. People were looking for me, but it wasn’t what I thought. Had he been in the car outside our apartment? All those times it felt like someone was following me. Was that Bozeman?
Chadwick removed a few items from the box. “This is a copy of his will. You’re to inherit all of his assets, which is quite a lot. He asked me to monitor his accounts closely.”
I glanced over the report. Apparently, Dad had a lot of assets. The green number at the top had nine figures!
“He slid a sheet of paper my way. “Given your age, I would suspect these winery charges aren’t from you?”
“No.” I don’t drink often.
“No worries. We suspected those might be your mother. The other partners and I will have that money back in your account by the end of the week. In the meantime, we’ve already requested a new card for the account. The old ones will be canceled soon.” Chadwick spoke slowly.
Fucking bitch. Is that why she gave me my emergency card back? To mix up the charges and make it seem like I was using the money, not her?
“It was really important to your father that you received this letter and package unopened.” He slid a legal sized manila mailer package across the table with a smaller letter sized envelope. “You should also know our services have been funded for your entire lifetime. Should you have any problems, or need anything at all, we’re here for you. It was important to your father that you had someone in your corner. We’ve got your back. Always.”
Chadwick offered to give me a few moments to open the letters in the office. I needed more time. Whatever was in those envelopes was meant specifically for me. I’d open them at home, where I could cry without anyone judging me.
“There is one more item I need to give you before you leave.” He asked me to follow him into the hall.
Goosebumps prickled my arms. I followed Bozeman down a short hallway and into a parking garage. Here it comes. This is all a plot to take me out. Does he have a machete under that faded suit jacket? I’m such an idiot.
“Your dad wanted you to have this.” Chadwick pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. He clicked the little fob and headlights flashed with a little honk.
No way.
“Sentimental reasons, I believe he said.” Bozeman held out the keys for me to take. I was in such a daze, I forgot to grab them.
No fucking way.
Unshed tears welled in my eyes. “I thought he sold it.”
“Nope. It’s yours.” He jingled the keys.
“This is the vehicle he drove me to school in. It all started on my first day of kindergarten. He used to unzip the top and take me out for ice cream on sunny summer days. We had so much fun in this jeep.” The alligator tears became too heavy to hold back. “He put me in his lap and taught me how to drive.”
I walked over and let my hand glide along the hunter green paint. “I thought it was gone.”
“We’ve taken the liberty to keep it in tip top condition. Even made sure she had a full tank of gas.” Bozeman opened the door for me to climb in.
I turned the key and the engine roared to life.
