Chapter 29

As we closed the door behind the last guest, I turned to Sam and said, “That went fairly well, don’t you think?”

He nodded, put his arm around my shoulders, and turned me toward the library. “As always, honey. Mattie had a good turnout.”

“She certainly did, but that’s mainly because there’s a high level of socially correct behavior in this town. We do as we ought to do.”

“Or,” Sam said, as we sat on the leather sofa in the library, “a good many of them expect to profit from her will. I hate to tell you, but the word has gotten around—both Leonard and Ledbetter asked me when you’ll have the will probated.” He grinned. “And that was before we’d even gotten to the cemetery.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Well, they’ll have to hold their horses. I’m nowhere near making any distributions. For one thing, we have to wait until Mattie’s so-called great-nephew, or whatever he is, makes a legal declaration that he has no claim on her estate.” I leaned my head against the back of the sofa. “I just wish that Mr. Sitton would get that little matter of his identity cleared up. I mean, either find out he’s not actually kin to her or, if he is, get him out of the running completely by making him sign a quitclaim or something to her estate.”

“He’ll get it done, but . . .”

“But, Sam,” I interrupted, “part of me wishes he’d prove to be a direct relative and that he’d petition the court to be declared the legitimate heir to her entire estate. Just think what a relief it would be to me. No more appraising furniture and sending it to Atlanta, no more going through recipes and twenty-year-old postcards, and no more worrying about where the money’s coming from to carry out Mattie’s instructions.”

“I’m not sure it would be that easy,” Sam said, “but you just may get your wish. Andrew Cobb didn’t come to the reception, did he?”

“Why, no,” I said, sitting up as I realized the oversight. “I don’t recall seeing him. And, as a matter of fact, I don’t think Mr. Sitton came, either.”

“I saw them leave the cemetery together and assumed they were on their way here.”

Still disturbed by my seeming lapse, I said, “Surely they didn’t expect a personal invitation. It was printed in the service bulletin, so they should’ve known.

“Oh, Sam,” I cried, turning to him. “Even though I’d love to be free of the problems, what if those two are cooking up some way to bypass Mattie’s will?”

“No, not Sitton,” Sam said, pulling me back. “Don’t worry about that. He’s a stickler for the law. If anything, I’d say that he’s getting close to Cobb so he can figure him out. Believe me, the only one Sitton is working for is Mattie Freeman—you can count on that.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” I said. “I guess. But I hope he works a little for me while he’s at it.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Did anyone tell you what happened at the cemetery?”

“No, what?”

“Well, Cobb was pretty much treated as the chief mourner by the funeral home. He was directed to a place by the graveside and LuAnne and Leonard stood beside him. Everything went smoothly—Ledbetter said a few words and had a prayer, and that was about it. Until Cobb started crying.”

“Crying! Why, he didn’t even know Mattie.”

“I know, but he held this huge handkerchief over his face and his shoulders starting shaking, and of course everybody was trying to console him.”

“You, too?”

Sam smiled. “No, I was watching for actual tears. I didn’t see any, but I heard a lot of moans and groans.” Sam pushed his hair from his forehead. “I don’t know, Julia, it could’ve been an act, or he could be one of those tender-hearted souls who tear up at any funeral. After they got him to sit down—you know, in one of those wobbly folding chairs—he tried to explain. Said it just hit him that all his family was now gone, and he was the only one left. And he regretted not getting here sooner so Mattie wouldn’t have thought that she was the last one.” Sam shook his head and said, “I can’t figure him out. He could’ve been sincere, but it was a little over the top—a real meltdown, as Lloyd would say.”

“Oh, my,” I said. “I’m glad I wasn’t there to see it, but, Sam, it had to’ve been an act. Who makes a public spectacle of themselves over the burial of a perfect stranger?”

Sam smiled. “Well, that seemed to be the general opinion. Most turned away and left. Even Ledbetter could barely offer a sympathetic word.”

“No one believes he’s Mattie’s kin—that’s the reason. Or, at least, they hope he isn’t. He could surely play havoc with their expectations if he is.”

We sat for a few minutes, both lost in thought of the dire consequences that might be in the offing—all dependent upon the decisions of a stranger in a two-wheeled trailer.

Sam broke the silence. “Did you get a chance to talk to Helen?”

“No, why? I mean, we spoke, but she came when everybody was crowded around the table, so that was about it.”

“She was leaving as I got here, so we stood on the porch and talked a bit. A little unusual, I thought, because she’s always friendly, but rarely stops long enough for a conversation. At least, with me. I think, though,” Sam said, smiling at me, “I figured out the reason. Nate Wheeler came out the door, and Helen lit up like a Christmas tree.”

“Really!”

“Yep, and he looked equally glad to see her still there. They talked a few minutes about Mattie’s furniture, then they left together.”

“How interesting.”

“Well, don’t read too much into it. They came in separate cars.”

“Even so,” I said, musing over a possible mismatch with romantic overtones. “Mr. Wheeler does clean up quite nicely. I saw him inside and almost didn’t recognize him without all the sawdust sprinkles.”

“He does, indeed,” Sam said, then turned to another subject—one that he’d apparently been thinking about since this wasn’t the first time he’d brought it up. “Listen, Julia, we’ll be leaving Monday as soon as Lloyd picks up his report card. And I’d feel better if you had someone in the house with you. Why don’t you ask Lillian and Latisha to stay over while I’m gone?”

“Well,” I temporized, “I’ll see if they can, but with Lloyd gone, Latisha may not want to. There’re no children around here for her to play with. And with school out, she’ll be underfoot and bored all day long.”

“Then how about you staying with Hazel Marie? She’ll be alone, too.”

“Sam, she’s the least alone woman in town. She has James living over the garage, and Granny Wiggins is in and out, to say nothing of running after toddling twins all day long. Believe me, she doesn’t need a houseguest. And, to be honest, I’m not sure I could put up with all the turmoil for an entire week. Don’t worry about it,” I went on, “I’ll be fine right here by myself. Did you pack your sunblock?”

“Two tubes. My lovely complexion will be well taken care of.”

“Oh, you,” I said as we laughed together.

“Actually,” I went on after a few minutes, “it’s the three of you floating around on the ocean that I’m concerned about. I want you to have a good time, but, Sam, do keep an eye on Lloyd. I don’t want him falling off the boat.”

“He’s not going to fall off. Besides, we’ll have on life jackets or vests or whatever they are. If anybody goes overboard, it’ll be me because I plan to catch the biggest fish in the gulf, have it mounted, then hang it right here in our fancy library. Don’t you think it’ll fit right in with the decor?”

“I don’t believe I’ll tell you what I think. Oh,” I said, sitting up with a sudden, perfect thought, “I know what I can do. I’ll ask Etta Mae to stay the week with me.”

Sam smiled. “That’s a good idea, which I think I suggested some while back.”

“You did, but now that we’re down to the wire, it’ll be a comfort to have her here at night. So I’ll ask her, and that’ll put your mind at rest.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. There’s no telling what you and Ms. Wiggins will get up to.”

From previous experience, I had to agree with him, but not out loud. Besides, I was too busy with Mattie’s affairs to go looking for any more trouble.

_______

The following morning, Saturday, found me torn between doing what I should do and what I wanted to do. What I wanted to do was to go to Mattie’s apartment, which would be empty for the weekend, and get started on the albums and scrapbooks stacked up in the back of her guest room closet. I wanted to sit down all by myself and go through them without any distractions. It had come to me during the night that there just might be some hint of Andrew F. Cobb’s existence in the things she had saved. Wouldn’t it be interesting to find a baby picture with the name Andrew penciled on the back?

But, no, I did what I should have done because Sam hadn’t. His idea of packing was not mine, so I spent most of the day folding clothes, packing them, and listening to him tell me he wouldn’t need them.

“Just some shorts,” he said. “That’s all I’ll need.” And he started unpacking what I’d just packed. “Honey, it’ll be in the nineties down there. I won’t need a jacket.”

“Well, I thought you might go to a nice place to eat, one that requires a jacket.”

Sam laughed. “Think about who I’m going with. You think Pickens and Lloyd will want to dress for dinner?”

“You’re probably right,” I conceded. “Just put everything you want to take on the bed, and I’ll pack them. Don’t forget your hat and . . .”

“And the sunblock,” Sam finished. “I gotcha. Now, why don’t we go out for dinner and put a lid on Mattie, Andrew Cobb, and getting sunburned.”

So we did, putting aside all the troublesome matters, and enjoyed each other’s company. My word, I was going to miss him. The week stretching out ahead seemed an eternity.