1999
WINNA PULLED UP in front of Chloe’s little bungalow on Teller Avenue. The house was a fairly recent purchase, a work in progress. A ladder leaned against the screened-in porch. The front had just been repainted a soft putty color. The porch, trimmed in plum, glowed with a fresh coat of rose. The blue-green gate in the picket fence swung easily as Winna lifted the latch. Rose, teal, and plum were the colors Chloe wore.
Chloe’s garden, growing on either side of the walk, welcomed her with a chorus of wind chimes in the globe willows. Beyond two small patches of lawn, gone dormant from lack of water, flowerbeds burst with sunflowers, pink coreopsis, rosy yarrow, and magenta love-lies-bleeding. Behind the tangle of flowers stood a nearly life-sized wooden goddess dressed in flowing green robes emblazoned with gilt planets and moons, her gaze heavenward. Startled birds rushed from the feeder and pedestal bath as Winna approached.
Instead of a doorbell, Chloe had installed a triangle. Knowing her visit would be a surprise, Winna created just enough racket to wake the dead and waited for Chloe to come to the door.
Dressed in a flowing robe similar to the one adorning her garden goddess, Chloe looked as if she had just gotten up.
“Winna, what a surprise.” She appeared pleased. “Come in—I just made coffee.”
“Is Todd at work?” Winna hoped he was. “I’m sorry to come by so early.”
“He left about seven—I slept late.”
She led her sister through the front room, stunning in deep plum, with long blue-green curtains dragging on the hardwood floor around two large light-filled windows. She had hung two of Nora’s abstract paintings, one over the sofa and the other just above a green table. Winna enjoyed seeing them again.
“Mother’s paintings never looked at home in my New England house,” she said. “Here, they’re perfectly wonderful.”
The sofa, a nearly white, deeply tufted leather sectional, was strewn with colorful pillows. Several had toppled to the floor. The large round glass-top coffee table held two wine glasses, a couple of empty wine bottles, an ashtray overflowing with butts, and a dozen candle holders with candle stubs dripping wax.
“Sorry for the mess,” she said, steering Winna toward the kitchen.
“I like what you’ve done. The garden is lovely.”
“Thanks—I wish it wasn’t so dry.”
Chloe pointed to one of the yellow vinyl and chrome dinette chairs that surrounded the matching kitchen table. “Have a seat.”
Winna obeyed and sat down. “Chloe, yesterday I went to see Reed,” Winna said, revealing the reason for her visit.
“Oh,” she said. “How’s Reed?”
Winna accepted a bright pink mug from her sister’s hand. “I told him I want you reinherited, so to speak.”
Chloe seemed to stop breathing. She sat down and gazed into her cup.
“Unfortunately, in gifting you, the taxes would be horrendous—about half of everything to the government. It appears that Dad’s estate is over four million, not counting the house and its contents.”
Suddenly, Chloe stood and walked to the kitchen sink. “How much will I get?” she asked with her back to her sister.
“Let me finish explaining,” Winna said, wondering why Chloe seemed so jumpy. “Reed suggests I set up a discretionary trust for you, in my name. The trust will revert to you upon my death when you or your heirs will become the successor trustees. As I understand it, during my lifetime there will be a third-party trustee for you to deal with—you won’t have to come to me. A percentage of the earnings will be yours and you and that third party will decide what other disbursements are fitting. We aren’t sure of the amount yet, but the earnings will be considerable—a comfortable living. I know, Chloe, that this is a lot to take in and, if you want, Reed could explain it to you in more detail.”
Chloe turned to face her sister. Tears flooded her eyes and she began to tremble so violently that hot coffee splashed down the front of her robe. “Oh, shit,” she cried in pain. “I’m such a goddamn fool.” Furiously, she rubbed the spill with a kitchen towel. “Why do I feel guilty? Like I don’t deserve this.”
“It’s not about deserving,” Winna said, wishing she felt free to embrace her. “I don’t deserve it either—it’s just our birthright. Remember, the fortune was built by three generations and added to by Gramma’s inheritance. Dad grew the fortune and maintained it after her death. For all his invisibility, Daddy was a great manager and business man.”
Chloe sighed. “I was born into wealth but never felt wealthy, not even as a kid. It’s like real financial abundance has eluded me all my life—Juno says there is abundance in my chart, but I’ve been in a long cycle—I know you don’t care about this—but this past year, by transit, when Saturn came forward and opposed the Sun…” Chloe trailed off and slumped into a kitchen chair. “I won’t go on except to say that it hasn’t been easy, Winna.”
“None of this has been easy. Dad’s awful death and that awful will. We can’t expect major tragedy to be easy,” she said. “Notwithstanding the position of the stars, life gets thorny.” Winna stopped. Her words lit no sign of affirmation in Chloe’s eyes. She didn’t know how to talk to her anymore.
“I just couldn’t let the will stand. It was so unfair and I couldn’t enjoy having wealth, knowing you were left out.”
Chloe rushed into Winna’s arms. “Thank you. Now I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’m happy,” she said. “I’m actually happy.” She beamed at Winna and hugged herself. “I’ve finally learned that I won’t find all-encompassing happiness through a man.” Chloe stood, clutching the back of her chair. “Neptune has a square, hard ninety-degree angle to Venus in my chart. This makes me yearn for the ideal. It’s different now, because I’m wise to it, but in the past when I met a man, my eagerness made me project the ideal onto him. Then there always came that moment of betrayal when I realized that the man I had married was just ordinary, or worse. Of course, I blamed him.”
“I did the same with Walt. I think the expression goes, ‘The honeymoon’s over.’”
“No, it’s not that simple, Winna. It’s deeper than that old cliché.” Chloe was pacing, her voice rising with excitement. “If you live long enough, you learn. Really learn! Now I know that happiness is found only inside one’s self—the transcendence that comes from inside, from one’s own creativity.”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Winna said, biting her tongue. She did not want to say what she thought. To her, transcendence meant moving beyond the self toward God.
“And this money is great, Winna. It’ll free me up to garden, paint, and do my real work,” Chloe said, refilling her cup. “I want to make an impact on the environment—the way this stupid country does business.” She paused, her face suddenly troubled. “Explain why I can’t just have half the money?”
Winna took a deep breath. Readjusting to her sister’s sudden change of tone, she said, “The taxes. Dad’s estate is much larger than anyone expected, and once we sell the house and antiques, it will be more. If I simply hand over half to you, we’d have to pay tons of gift taxes.”
“That’s okay,” she said, bouncing into the chair. “How much is there?”
“We aren’t sure yet, but Reed thinks that with the sale of the house and its contents, it will top five million—maybe more.”
“Really? Money has never been that important to me, but it would be fun to have a big chunk all at once. I’ve never had that.”
“You have two sons. What about your boys?” Winna said. “You’d have nothing to leave them if you had ‘fun’ with a million or two. Think of the fun they’d miss.”
Winna watched Chloe check herself before she replied.
“I guess you’re right. That makes sense, actually,” she said, thoughtfully. “But how much will I have to live on?”
“Reed figures it will be anywhere between eighty and ninety thousand a year, depending on how it’s invested.”
“Good Lord, that’s way more than I make now.” Chloe gave Winna a hug.
“Look, Chloe, we don’t really know what’s in that house. Remember the ring I found? Who knows what else we might find.”
“Let’s hope we find the Hope Diamond,” Chloe said, kissing her sister’s cheek.
Winna laughed. “No thanks. I think the Hope Diamond is cursed. Now, why don’t you show me your paintings?” she said, returning the kiss.
“Do you really want to see them?”
“Sure I do. Then I want to tell you about Gramma’s short story—I think we have a mystery on our hands.”
Chloe led Winna from the kitchen to the glassed-in back porch. “Look, I even have a northern exposure—it’s perfect.”
Finished canvases leaned along the walls. Two easels with oil paintings in progress sat in the center of the room. The first canvas depicted the Book Cliffs under a stormy sky. In the foreground, a shaft of sunlight lit a peach orchard in full rosy bloom. The second canvas looked like Ute Canyon with twisted pinyon trees, a stand of yuccas in full bloom, and a hawk circling the evening sky.
“Chloe,” she gasped, delighted. “I had no idea. These are impressive.”
Emboldened, Chloe showed her everything.
“My little sister has become an accomplished painter.” Winna was awed. The paintings were highly disciplined, uniquely styled, and finely crafted—by no means the work of a dilettante.
The sisters spent the day together, talking about their lives as children. Chloe had not done well in school and confessed that for years she thought she was retarded. That was after one of her teachers forced her to read in front of the class. Chloe struggled with the words and her teacher embarrassed her by saying, “How on earth did you qualify for second grade?”
“I had a hard start with reading too,” Winna said. “One night Daddy offered to help me with a new book. The words came slowly and I could feel his impatience. ‘I don’t have time to sit here while you horse around,’ he said. ‘Now straighten up and look at this sentence.’”
“You can guess what happened next. I didn’t do well and he called me a ‘dummy,’ got up from the davenport, and walked off, leaving me in tears. I was sure I was the dumbest kid alive.”
“I remember how you used to get in trouble,” Chloe said. “Actually, I hated the way Dad treated you. The way he looked at you put me on guard. Remember the time you were wearing a nice new dress to go and visit Gramma and Poppa—the day Lucky jumped up on you and put his muddy feet on your dress?”
“Yes, and I kicked him,” Winna said. “Dad saw me and yelled, ‘I’ll teach you how not to treat a dog.’ Then he kicked me across the driveway.”
“He was horrible to you when we were little. I was always trying to be as good as I could possibly be because of all the spankings you got. Then I got closer to Dad—loved hanging out with him at the store—he taught me to shoot—to drive. I guess that’s one of the reasons it hurt so much when he disinherited me. I knew Gramma favored you and hoped that Daddy favored me.”
Winna forced a laugh. “Right now I’m going to forget all about that and try to remember something wonderful about our childhood. Help me.”
Chloe’s face brightened. “How about the flume? I think that was my favorite thing.”
On hot summer days, the sisters had played in the flume, a long metal trough designed to move water from the canal to the fields and orchards. It stood high over the ground, just big enough for Winna, Chloe, and the water bugs. No grownups could reach them, only voices calling them home. Feeling far away, the sisters laid back and let cool bronze water pass over their bodies. Up high, where the wind rustled the leaves in the trees, they watched the cars whiz by on the distant road and made up a guessing game: where had each car been and where was it going?
Often in their play, they pretended to be orphans, but in the flume, they were orphan fairies having a bath. They made believe that they had been born under nodding blue flowers, lived on nectar, and dressed in white frocks spun from cottonwood silk.