| |
After tossing and turning most of the night, Kelly wearily gave in around six-thirty and stumbled into the bathroom. Bleary eyes looked back at her. If she ever got serious again about dating, she’d need to find a better morning face.
Or stop having bombshells dropped into her lap at the end of the day.
A retreat center. What was she going to do with a retreat center?
She turned on the water in the shower, waited until it was steaming, and stepped in. The water sluiced down her back, slowly awakening her skin to the day. She raised her face to the spray, and soon the cobwebs were washed from her mind.
She wouldn’t do anything right now. Her list of things to do today included throwing Lisa’s sheets into the laundry before taking a look at the garage to see what needed to be done there. There were a lot of boxes no one had looked at in years, as well as some tools and toys John had stored there. Cleaning out all that history wasn’t going to happen overnight, but it would be a good summer project.
With breakfast over and dishes and laundry in their respective washers, she picked up a yellow legal pad and headed to the garage. Opening the first box almost did her in. It was material from their first few years in Boston: old dishes, Lisa’s baby booties and a silver plated rattle, a Lladro anniversary sculpture, and a few pieces of a blue and white Canton collection Kelly had forgotten about, given to her by some never-married aunt from a distant branch of the family. A jumble of the past.
This was going to take a lot longer than she anticipated. It wasn’t the physical but the emotional lifting that was going to be a problem.
She paused and looked around. She needed a system. Mentally, she laid out a grid. There was the easy stuff—tools she didn’t know how to use, equipment John bought and never used, duplicates of garden equipment before they hired a service. Boxes of out-of-date clothes and appliances could be sorted through fairly quickly. The emotional bombshell boxes could be done slowly—one at a time.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t find any other surprises John had hidden.
After making a list, she tackled the garden equipment. Almost all of it could go, but her tony neighborhood would frown on a garage sale, and she didn’t really need the money.
She started another list: What to do with ...?
A few hours later she had a substantial pile sorted into what she would keep, what to give away, and what to try to sell. New homeowners could use garden equipment, and young people bought homes. She’d ask Lisa for best places to get rid of the items.
Satisfied with the day’s work, she cleaned up, grabbed a book, and headed for the pool. It was blissful for about an hour.
Was this really what she was going to do with her summer?
She picked up her phone. Gail was in Japan, but texting was still an option.
Kelly: Grandmother left me retreat center in MT. Any ideas what to do with it?
She wouldn’t receive an answer until later in the day when Gail got up. Maybe they could schedule a time to have a video call. Kelly needed advice badly.
While she was at it, she texted Lisa about how best to unload the items in the garage.
Satisfied, she took a swim, dried off, then went to the store.
“SELL IT” WAS GAIL’S advice when she responded around dinnertime.
Kelly: I’m not sure I can. Attorney says there are conditions.
Gail: Like what?
Kelly: Don’t know.
Gail: Then I guess you’d better talk to the attorney.
Gail was right, but it was a call Kelly dreaded to make. It was like the extra phone; ignorance was bliss. What if she were forced to go to Montana to deal with it?
Would that be so bad? It wasn’t Italy, but it was out of her backyard. Would there be anyone still there from her teenage years? Doubtful. That was a long time ago.
Maggie and Alex had adopted her the first summer she’d arrived, lonely and shy. The first few years they’d played hide-and-seek in the woods until she grew comfortable with the silent spaces between the trees. Later, they’d been the ones to take her to the town beach and teach her to canoe and kayak.
Then there was Ryan. He’d join the fun once or twice, but mostly he stood off to one side, observing or reading a book. He must have been very shy. But there was something about him that drew her attention even way back then. Every once in a while he’d hold out his hand, and she would follow him to some secret place where they observed the lake, the birds, and the boats.
She hadn’t had such good friends since. Nor had she found anyone to truly replace her first teenage crush on Ryan. Or had he been more than that? She’d never had time to find out. Was he still there?
Promise Cove had been a different world from uptight Boston. There was something raw and untamed about the small town in the woods. The nearest place of any size, Whitefish, was an hour’s drive. People planned ahead and brought things back for others when they made a trip.
She glanced at the time display on the phone. Montana was an hour ahead of California, which meant the law offices would be closed. She’d call first thing in the morning. For now, she’d open the bottle of expensive Sonoma rosé she’d picked up at the store. The sign had told her that it was perfect for sitting by the pool.
And who was she to ignore a recommendation from authority?
“BRUCE HENDERSON SPEAKING,” the somewhat older male voice said when she called the attorney’s number the next morning.
What kind of lawyer answered his own phone?
She introduced herself.
“Ah, Henrietta’s granddaughter. How nice to hear from you at last.”
“At last?”
“Yes, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for a number of months. For some reason, your grandmother thought you lived in Boston.”
“I haven’t lived there in decades,” Kelly said. “But my mother’s still there. I’m sure she would have forwarded it to me.”
“Yes, well, there were times I’m afraid Henrietta’s memory wasn’t what it once was. She never mentioned your mother, and since you have different last names, the address didn’t come up correctly.” He chuckled. “Henrietta could remember who was poet laureate of the country for any year, but other details often escaped her.”
“My mother said she died of a heart attack.”
“She did. Right there in the middle of wrestling the snow blower into submission. The teenager who usually did it was home sick with the flu. Henrietta was always convinced that if she didn’t get to her chickens early in the day, they’d starve to death by afternoon.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get there often over the last years.” She felt worse than she let on. It had been closer to a few decades.
“Henrietta was a wonderful woman. She’ll be missed. But she lived a good life, so no regrets there. So, when can you get up here to look over the property?”
“I’m not sure. I’m very busy. Do I need to come at all? Can’t you simply dispose of the property and arrange for me to get whatever proceeds are left after you take out your fee?” Two lies in less than two minutes. She wasn’t busy. Not at all.
The truth was, she didn’t want to face the past. Whoever that young girl had been was long gone, buried in tulle and lace, baby showers and teacher meetings. The reality of her life now didn’t match any of the dreams she’d had when she was young.
Kelly sent a guilty look to the baby grand she’d dusted that morning.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce interrupted her reminiscences. “That’s not possible. The terms of the will are difficult but entirely legal. In order to dispose of the property, you need to come up here for at least a week and find the message your grandmother left for you.”
“A message? Didn’t she just leave it with you?”
Bruce chuckled. “Nothing so simple. It wasn’t Henrietta’s way. It’s somewhere in the house. And before you ask, she didn’t tell me where it was.”
It was totally ridiculous. What could her grandmother tell her that Kelly didn’t already know?
“What if I don’t go?”
“Then the entire estate goes to a Montana arts organization. You get nothing.”
Well, she didn’t really need anything, did she?
But a longing grew in her heart for the towering mountains, clear lakes, and deep evergreen forests. She wanted to reacquaint herself with old friends and sit on the shore of Whitefish Lake and rediscover its secrets.
But it was totally impractical. She needed to be here for her children, not gallivanting around the woods.
Don’t be ridiculous.
Her kids were almost grown up. She’d thought about going to Italy, where she’d be even more out of touch.
Montana was a return to something she couldn’t quite remember, a place where the past might overwhelm her with its memories of who she could have been.
“I need more time to decide.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have much,” the attorney said. “Because it took so long for me to find you, you’ll need to make a decision by the end of summer.”
She should be able to handle that.
After promising to call him back in a few days, she sank into her favorite chair in the living room, a heavily upholstered armchair with a soft fabric covering instead of the hard leather John had preferred. It was one of the few pieces in their home she’d fought for and won.
Maybe it would simple. If her late grandmother had memory problems, she might have simply forgotten where she put the note. Likely it was hiding in plain sight. Kelly could take a week, go up there, find the note and a reputable estate agent, and put her past behind her.
Easy peasy.
