Chapter 8

“Julia?” Sam said as he leaned over me, his face drawn with concern. “What’s wrong, honey?”

I was still doing exactly what Lillian had told me to do—sitting right where I was.

I bestirred myself and looked up at him. “You won’t believe this, Sam. I don’t believe it. And I’d just made up my mind to turn to something useful instead of frittering away my time worrying about things I can’t do anything about. And now this falls in my lap.”

Sam drew up a chair and sat beside me. He took my hand and said, “Tell me what’s going on, sweetheart.”

“Oh, Sam, you and Binkie have got to get me out of this. I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it. It’s too much responsibility, because how in the world could I know what she wants? Why, I hardly know the woman!”

“It’s okay, honey,” Sam said in his soothing voice. “Calm down now and tell me what’s upset you so.”

Lillian said, “Whatever it was, it come over the telephone. I was settin’ right here when her face went white as a sheet an’ look like she ’bout to slide right outta that chair.”

“She’s all right now,” Sam said. “Julia, honey, tell me what happened.”

“Sam,” I said, gathering myself with a rush of outrage, “never in my life have I been so put upon. It can’t be legal to give power of attorney to someone who didn’t know a thing about it and who doesn’t want it. Can it? Talk to Mr. Ernest Sitton and get it annulled, voided, vetoed, or whatever you have to do.”

“Someone’s given you power of attorney? Who?”

“Mattie Freeman, can you believe it!” I sprang from my chair, too outraged to sit still. “And who knows how long ago she did it, and never told me—much less asked me—a thing about it. And now she’s lying up there in a hospital bed, not knowing one day from the next, expecting me to make medical and financial decisions for her! What presumption!”

While I stomped back and forth in a rage, Sam leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling for a minute. “She never mentioned anything to you?”

“Not a word! Believe me, I would’ve talked her out of it if she had. And now I can’t talk to her at all. She’s off somewhere getting ready for a debutante ball.”

“Then she certainly needs someone to look after her, and obviously she trusted you to do it. It can be an onerous job, Julia, but it’s also an indication of the esteem she has for you.”

“Well, I don’t know why,” I said, stopping with my hands on my hips as I glared at him. “The most I’ve ever had to do with her was to invite her to parties and ask, ‘More tea, Mattie?’”

Sam smiled. “Yes, and asked it very nicely, I’m sure.” Then he reached for my hand and went on. “Look, honey, it’s possible to petition the court to excuse you from the responsibility, but then the court will appoint some attorney who doesn’t know her from Adam. And he’ll charge her for every move he makes.”

“Why,” I said, looking into the future, “somebody like that could deplete her assets before she knew it. And I can’t imagine that she has that much to begin with. What would she live on when she gets out of the hospital? Maybe she knew that and took it into account. She’d have known I wouldn’t charge her anything.”

“That’s right, you wouldn’t. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t. All you could charge would be for the expenses you incur, which is exactly what the attorney would do. But his expenses would include the time he’d ordinarily spend on his own clients.” Sam stood, put his arm around my shoulders, and led me back to a chair. “Julia, why don’t you talk to Sitton, let him explain what you’d be responsible for, then see how you feel. Most people recover from a hip replacement fairly easily. It may be that all you’d have to do is consult with her doctor, make sure her monthly bills get paid, and arrange for her care until she’s on her feet again. That’s not much more than you were already doing.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said, sitting again. “I can’t just turn my back and pretend she’s no concern of mine. Oh, Sam,” I went on, suddenly feeling both humble and uplifted, “just think of how much she must think of me! I had no idea that I was held in such high regard. But,” I said, springing to my feet again, “if she weren’t in such a bad way now, I would most certainly wring her neck!”

_______

Sam accompanied me to Mr. Ernest Sitton’s office, which was inconveniently located in Delmont, a small town some ten or so miles from Abbotsville. As we sat around an oval conference table in his office, I realized that the short, paunchy man sitting across from us had been the same short, paunchy one I’d seen coming out of Mattie’s room at the hospital. It was comforting to know that he’d been on the job all along.

Mr. Sitton, after greeting us, particularly Sam, warmly, had placed a stack of documents on the table and with little fanfare got down to business. I soon learned the name of Mattie’s surgeon, whom I was told to consult, received her checkbook, which was noticeably light on the bottom line, and accepted the keys to her apartment, where bills would be awaiting payment. Mr. Sitton had obviously been busy seeing to Mattie’s affairs and, if I wasn’t mistaken, was now somewhat relieved to pass along the responsibility to me.

“Now, Mrs. Murdoch, you have been granted a durable power of attorney, which gives you complete authority to make medical and financial decisions for Mrs. Freeman. And that authority continues even though Mrs. Freeman is showing some signs of mental incapacity, which of course we asume will be temporary. Sam, I’m sure, will explain the details to you, but I am always at your service as well.”

“How long will I have to do this?” I tried not to whine, but I don’t think I succeeded.

“Until it’s revoked by the grantor, which will be when she’s over this little setback she’s had.”

I wasn’t sure how small a setback a broken hip was, but I intended to see that Mattie got all the therapy and rehabilitation she would need. I wanted her back on her feet as soon as possible so she could take control of her own business, which I hoped would include relieving me of all responsibility and of locating those misplaced kid gloves as well.

“Now, Mrs. Murdoch,” Mr. Sitton continued as he pushed a paper toward me, “you’ll need to sign this document when my ladies come in to notarize it. Then you should take it to Mrs. Freeman’s bank. It gives you the authority to sign her checks.”

When that was done, Mr. Sitton assumed he was, too. He stood up and said, “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I’ve represented Mrs. Freeman for years, but I can’t claim to have known her well. Still, between the two of us, Mrs. Murdoch, we shall attempt to do our best for her.” Then, shaking Sam’s hand, he said, “Good to see you again, Sam. Mrs. Murdoch, let me know if I can help.”

As Sam and I settled into the car for the drive back to Abbotsville, I sighed and said, “After we go by Mattie’s bank, we might as well stop by her apartment and pick up the mail. Maybe get a few gowns and a robe for her, too.”

“Good idea. The sooner you get on top of things, the easier you’ll find it. In fact, I doubt there’ll be much to do for now—just keep up with household bills as they come in.” He glanced at me and smiled. “You don’t particularly mind writing checks, do you?”

“Oh, you,” I said, dredging up a smile, as I thought that I might as well make the best of the hand I’d been dealt, even though I’d never played a game of poker in my life.

_______

After completing our business at the bank, we found Mattie’s mail for the two days she’d been in the hospital still in her mailbox. I took out an electric bill and one from the water department, a small cream-colored envelope that looked like an invitation or a thank-you note, and a handful of leaflets, long official-looking envelopes, and colorful advertisements.

Looking at Sam as we stood in the hall beside her door, I said, “I’m not sure I’m ready to just walk into somebody else’s home and start poking around in it. You think I could put it off for a few days, maybe get Mildred to come with me?”

“Won’t Mattie need some gowns? Toothbrush, too. And her purse. Every woman wants her purse.”

“Oh, of course. Actually, I’m surprised Mr. Sitton didn’t have it. Well, I guess there’s nothing for it but to go on in. Here, Sam,” I said, handing the key to him. “You open it.”

As Sam worked the key into the lock, a tall, lean man came out of the apartment down the hall, walked toward us, and stopped. “Nate Wheeler,” he said easily. “I don’t believe Mrs. Freeman’s at home, but can I help you?”

Sam turned and offered his hand. “We’re the Murdochs, here to get a few things for Mrs. Freeman. You know she’s in the hospital?”

“I heard, and I’m real sorry I wasn’t here to help. I try to keep an eye on all the residents, but I’ve been out of town for a couple of days. How is she doing?”

“Fair, I would say,” Sam said, while I looked the man over. He seemed fairly young, but that was from my viewpoint, where everybody under sixty looked young. As I peered closer, though, I recognized an old, tired look around his eyes. He was wearing a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up over tanned, sinewy arms and a pair of well-worn jeans over clean, but also well-worn, workman’s boots.

“They tell us that the surgery went well so we’re hoping for the best,” Sam told him, then, turning to me, said, “This is my wife, Julia, who has Mattie’s power of attorney. You’ll probably be seeing a lot of her as she looks after Mattie’s affairs.”

Mr. Wheeler gave me a nice, slow smile as he said, “Anything I can help you with, let me know. I’m staying in apartment 4A for a few weeks—right down the hall there—while I do some remodeling. Updating the kitchen and so on.”

“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Wheeler,” I said. “Do you have your family with you?”

The smile died on his face. “No, ma’am, I’m a widower.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Forgive me for asking.”

That nice smile twitched at his mouth. “Perfectly all right,” he said. “It’s been awhile. But let me know if I can help with anything. I’ll be around.”

Well, that was reassuring to know. Depending on Mattie’s progress—or lack of same—she would have need of a strong, healthy man with a willingness to help. And so would I.