CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

TIMOTHY AWOKE WITH a hole in his heart from Mom’s death. While she was in the hospital, Timothy still felt her presence at home. Not this morning. Today, it was more like Mom’s house than Mom’s home. In spite of the heap o’ living they did here, a vital part was missing. He experienced this aloneness one other time—when Bobby got shot down and went missing.

He decided to get up and make some decent coffee and a hearty breakfast. He wanted to be at the top of his game today for the reading of the will and Frank’s inevitable and inappropriate comments. If Frank started up, Timothy would shut him down quickly. Clean-shaven and showered, Timothy sat at the kitchen table and sipped coffee while reading through yesterday’s mail. There were a couple of utility bills and donation requests. He made a mental note to write each a small check in Mom’s memory and ask them to remove her name from their mailing list.

The doorbell rang about eleven. Leslie and Ike stood there with Frank in tow. They’d picked him up on the way.

“You look better this morning than yesterday,” Leslie said as she pushed her way through the door.

“Better living last night,” Timothy said.

Ike grinned and Frank walked through the door like he was eyeballing a house to buy.

“Just like I remember it,” Frank said. “Hasn’t changed much.”

“That applies to people, too,” Timothy said.

Frank grinned. Timothy raised his eyebrows and returned the grin.

“Do I smell coffee?” Ike said.

“Yep, just made some. In the kitchen. Pour yourselves a cup.”

Timothy followed Leslie into Mom’s bedroom and stood at the door as Leslie went through Mom’s closet for the burial dress.

“This one,” she said. She held up the dark-blue dress Mom wore to Dad’s funeral. “It was the only time she ever wore it. Seems appropriate to me,” Leslie said.

“Me too, I guess,” Timothy said.

Timothy walked to the kitchen and topped off his mug. Leslie followed him to the kitchen and placed Mom’s dress on a chair. She also selected some simple jewelry for Mom at the wake.

“I’ll make another pot. We may be here a while,” Timothy said. He dumped the coffee in the basket without measuring and filled the percolator with water, the creamer with milk and put more sugar in the bowl.

“I see you’re still using that old relic,” Frank said.

“Pardon?” Timothy looked up from the sugar bowl.

“The coffee pot,” Frank said.

“Oh, yeah. We never got around to getting a new one,” Timothy said. “Are you guys ready for this?” Timothy pointed to an envelope on the table.

“As ready as I’m ever going to be,” Leslie said.

“Let’s do this,” Frank said, as if he were encouraging teammates in an athletic competition.

Timothy sliced open the large manila envelope labeled with a return address for the Law Offices of Hart and Associates. They handled all of Mom’s legal matters, as minor as they were. The envelope looked official, and Timothy didn’t open it before they arrived because he wanted no criticism or suspicion. Its contents were unknown to him as well as to the others.

“How about I read this out loud?” Ike offered.

“That’s a good idea, Ike,” Timothy said.

Frank agreed. “Yes, that makes sense.”

For the next few minutes, Ike read the customary legalese lawyers got paid to write—a boilerplate will. “Being of sound mind and body . . . I direct my executors to pay my enforceable unsecured debts and funeral expenses, the expenses of my last illness, and the expenses of administering my estate . . .”

It all sounded official and legal. It directed the disbursement of family heirlooms. Everyone agreed Mom put some thought into this. She already had written names on slips of paper and attached them to items around the house. It had been a source of humor over the years over who got what. She named Timothy the executor, and Frank winced at this, being the oldest. He let it pass. The three-way split of everything met everyone’s expectations until they got to the house. Ike read the passage silently at first, paused, and read it again aloud.

“At the time of the writing of this will, Timothy is neither married nor has a home of his own and therefore lives with me. If my death precedes his marriage or moving out, Timothy may remain in this home until he determines when, how, and why to sell it.” Ike stopped reading and put the will on the table.

Leslie nodded her approval. Timothy sat expressionless, not knowing if this would be a burden or a blessing. He needed time to process what he heard. Frank wasted little time expressing his opinion.

“This goes to show she wasn’t of sound mind. How could she bequeath an asset like that to only one of her children, leaving the other two out of it? That’s not right. I knew you were her favorite, Timothy, but this is insulting.”

“Frank,” Leslie said.

“Yeah, Frank, calm down,” said Ike, who never commented on O’Rourke family matters.

“No, I’m not going to calm down. This isn’t fair. I grew up in this house, too. It’s like we’re distant cousins or something. Tim, how can you sit there and say nothing? You can’t think this is fair, do you?”

Timothy sat for a while and thought before he spoke.

“Frank, did you bring your checkbook with you?”

“What? Of course I did. What are you getting at?”

“You want a third of this place, right?” Timothy said.

“Absolutely, it’s only fair.”

“Good, I agree with you,” Timothy said. Leslie sat up and Frank smiled. “Take out your checkbook and write a check for one-third of the cost of this home. I need your share of the mortgage and your piece of the taxes and insurance and, while you’re at it, add in there your third of the furnace I paid for last week. By my count, you can write me a check for four thousand dollars as your share of the bills. Does that work for you, Leslie?”

Leslie smiled and grabbed Ike’s hand. “Of course it does. It’s only fair.” Ike gave her hand a squeeze. Timothy smiled at them.

“Come on, Frank. Let’s see your check. Now, damn it. Write the fucking check. And then, when Mom’s hospital bill comes in, I’ll send you a bill for one-third of that, too. Come on, big brother, let’s see your goddam checkbook.”

Frank sat speechless as Timothy stared him down. No more baby brother here as big brother stammered a response.

“Look, I don’t have that kind of money. I told you that when you called a couple of weeks ago. I want what is mine—what I’m due.”

“Oh, I think you’re getting what you’re due, Frank,” Ike said.

“Hey, there’s no need to gang up on me and get hostile. I’m sure we can put our heads together and come up with a solution.” Frank returned to his business mode.

“Here’s the solution, Frank. If you want your third of the house, you have to write a check to help us dispose of the house. And besides, I’m the executor. You know what that means, right?”

“There’s no need to get nasty and make this personal. You agree, don’t you, Leslie?” Frank said.

“Yes, I do, Frank. Write him a check for your third, and we’ll do the same. We’ll take out a second on our home to get the money. You could do the same. That will give him some room to do what he has to do with the house,” Leslie said.

“I can’t do that. I don’t have any equity in my home. I don’t have the money. Can’t you see that?” Frank sounded panicky. “I’m broke, damn it!”

“Do you think I can afford it, Frank?” Timothy said, staring through Frank, who struggled to make eye contact with his younger brother.

“What do you want to do, Tim?” Leslie said.

“I don’t know for sure at this moment, but I think we should sell it. I need to look into this,” Timothy said.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Sell it, pay the bills, and divvy up whatever’s left over,” Frank said.

“What about Tim?” Ike said. “Mom wanted him to have a place to live until he can get out on his own. You had that chance, Frank, and so did Leslie. It’s only fair Tim gets the same chance—if you’re all about fairness, that is.” Leslie smiled at her husband and Timothy winked at him.

“I . . . I . . . I don’t know. Let’s think about this. We don’t need to make that decision today. Bill’s coming in town. Maybe he’ll have some ideas. We can decide tomorrow. I like to sleep on big decisions,” Frank said.

“Tomorrow’s Mom’s wake,” Timothy said. “How about we bury her before we start haggling?”

“Fine, we can wait until she’s buried, but you’re going to be responsible for the bills. You’re the executor, remember?” Frank said.

“That’s right, Frank. I’m the executor, and I’ll do what’s fair,” Timothy said.

Nothing else in the will needed discussion. It allowed for a straightforward dissolution of the estate. They made plans to meet on Sunday before the viewing for the public. It would be their private time with Mom.

Frank walked ahead of the others to the car. Leslie gave Timothy a hug and whispered in his ear, “I think little brother just taught big brother a lesson in life.” Timothy smiled.

Ike leaned over and said, “Well done.”

“Thanks, guys. See you tomorrow.”