Miss Julia Inherits a Mess (29 page)

I left before I was told to leave.

Helen was her cool, composed self as she accepted her check.
She thanked me for it, then thanked me for asking her to help Diane, then thanked me for things in general—all very low key with no apparent emotion. Then, as I turned to leave, she began to cry.

It seemed to take forever to track down Junior Haverty, the bag boy at Ingles grocery store. By this time of the year, he was back in classes at the high school, and I'd been tempted to leave his check with the grandmother with whom he lived. I'm glad I didn't. I would've missed the absolute disbelief and joy with which it was received, although he couldn't quite place Miss Mattie Freeman.

“Well, see, I take groceries out for all kinds of ladies,” he said. “The old ones, you know, and I'm so busy loadin' up their cars and puttin' the sacks just like they want them that I don't ever get a good look at anybody. But, man, I can't believe this.” Then he turned and yelled, “Hey, Grandmom! Guess who's going to Chapel Hill next year!”

The rest of the bequests—excepting one—were easy enough to distribute. I wrote checks to the PEO scholarship fund, to the local library, to the county Humane Society, and to the Shriners hospital, making sure each recipient knew that the checks came from the estate of Mattie Cobb Freeman. Then I put them in the mail—registered and insured.

That left the church.

“Norma,” I said as I walked up to the receptionist's desk outside Pastor Ledbetter's office. “I apologize for not calling for an appointment, but I know the pastor is eager to see me, so . . .”

“He already has a full day,” she said, covering the desk calendar with her arm. “I can give you an appointment sometime next week. What day would you suggest?”

“
To
day. This
very
day.” I leaned over her desk. “Norma, if you don't tell him I'm here, I'm going to make an appointment for six months from now, and if that happens, I seriously doubt that you will be here then. Believe me, he is waiting with bated breath for my arrival.”

“Oh, well, in that case . . .” She bestirred herself to write a note, then rose from her chair. “Please have a seat for just a few moments. He's on the phone, but I'll give him the message.” She slipped into the pastor's office, apparently gave him the note, then returned to her desk to begin shuffling a few papers around.

I sat and waited. And while I waited, I smiled to myself at the memory of the phone call I'd received a few months previously. The caller had been Zeb Benson from Benson's Jewelry on Main with news of the value of Mattie's jewelry. To tell the truth, I'd almost forgotten that I'd left it to be appraised, so it had been a pleasant surprise to be reminded.

Zeb had somewhat reluctantly purchased all of Mattie's jewelry, saying that he'd been thinking of offering a few vintage items
for sale. “And I guess,” he'd said with a sigh, “I could start by offering these pieces—see how it goes, you know.” Then he brightened at a new thought. “Perhaps some of Mrs. Freeman's friends will be interested in a purchase. Something to remember her by, you know.”

I assured him that it was an excellent idea, but refrained from buying anything myself.

So an additional check from Benson's Jewelry on Main had been added to the estate's account from which I was making disbursements.

Norma looked up as the light on her phone went out. “You may go in now,” she said in a tightly formal voice.

So I did and greeted the pastor, who, as I'd suspected he would be, was more than eager to see me. I had forewarned him the week before that the disbursement of Mattie's bequests was in the works, so he knew why I was there.

“Miss Julia!” he cried, jumping up from his executive chair and coming around the desk to greet me. “How good you're looking these days. Whatever you've been doing certainly agrees with you. Have a seat. Here, sit right here, and let's get down to business. Summer will be here again before we know it.”

He almost, but not quite, rubbed his hands together. I sat, opened my pocketbook, and withdrew an envelope.

“I'm sure you know what this is,” I said as he eyed it. “I'm sorry it's taken so long to settle Mattie's estate, but we had to wait for auctions to be held and paperwork to be done, as well as making sure that everything was done legally and aboveboard. But here it is, Pastor, Mattie's bequest to the church.”

He took the envelope, slit it open, and drew out the check. When he saw the amount, his eyes got large and a flush swept over his face. “Oh, my . . . uh, goodness,” he said. “Thirty thousand dollars! We'll have the church air-conditioned before you know it. This is, indeed, manna from heaven.”

“Well, I'm not sure of that, Pastor,” I said, dreading to rain on his parade. “As I've already told you, Mattie
specified
how she
wanted that money to be used—and she didn't include an air-conditioning unit. It's to go for new paperback hymnals, and color-matched pew cushions, carpet, and choir robes.”

“But, Miss Julia, we're in dire straits here. Don't you recall how uncomfortable the services were this past August?”

Well, yes, I did, but they'd been uncomfortable not just because of the lack of air-conditioning. However, I wasn't about to open that can of worms. Pastor Ledbetter, contrary to the inclinations of most aging fundamentalists, was becoming more and more open-minded to the redefinition of centuries-old commandments and admonitions—all in the cause of increasing church membership. He'd become ready and willing to jump onto any pop culture bandwagon that came along, but, to my way of thinking, if the church became just another wide-open social group, why bother with it?

“I do recall, Pastor,” I said, “but it's my duty to remind you of what Mattie wanted. I've discussed this matter with Mattie's attorney, and he tells me that my responsibility ends when I turn over to you the designated amount. Which I've just done. What you do with it—after being informed of her wishes—is entirely up to you and the deacons.” I stood up, preparing to take my leave. “All I can say, Pastor, is let your conscience be your guide.”

That took some of the wind out of his sails, but if he expected me to agree with him on how the money was to be used, I couldn't do it. Mattie had ruled and governed my life ever since she'd gotten sick and died on us these many months past, and I wasn't about to let anybody else off the hook at this late date. He could do as he pleased, but it wasn't my business to make him feel better about going against Mattie's wishes, especially since following Mattie's wishes had constricted my days for so long.

“Oh, Miss Julia,” the pastor said as I moved toward the door. “I believe Mrs. Conover mentioned to me some while ago that Mattie had not only left the church a specific amount, she'd indicated that any monies left after all the other bequests were filled were to come to the church as well.”

“You're absolutely right,” I said, brought up short by my short memory. “I was about to forget that there was some left over and that it does, indeed, go to the church.” I opened my pocketbook and removed a change purse. Handing it to him, I said, “This is what Mattie had in her pocketbook—it comes to a total of four dollars and eighty-five cents and is what is left over in her estate. So if you use the large check for air-conditioning, this might purchase a few paperback hymnals.”

His face fell when he unsnapped the little purse and looked inside at the four dollar bills and a scant handful of change. “Yes,” he said, sadly, “perhaps a few.”

“Mattie wasn't a wealthy woman, Pastor, and I'm sure she did without a lot of nice things that she would've liked to have had. Yet she wanted what assets she had to come to the church. Use them well, Pastor. And now, thank the Lord, my duties are done.”

Then I went home.

_______

“Oh, Sam,” I said, leaning against him as we sat together on the sofa in the library—our second favorite place to be. I had just told him of my meeting with Pastor Ledbetter, as well as my doubt as to what he was going to do with the sizable check I'd handed to him. “It's all over. I can hardly believe it. I won't know what to do with myself tomorrow. I've done nothing but muddle through the tangles of Mattie's estate for so long that I'm now at a loss.”

“I expect you'll find something to do. Think of this: you said you wanted to give something special to Etta Mae Wiggins. You could go shopping for her.”

“I've already ordered her the Fantasy Goddess of the Arctic Barbie. It's a limited edition.”

Sam's eyebrows went up. “And she'll like that?”

I nodded. “She'll love it.”

“Well, okay, but you might want to also order a tombstone or a marker for Mattie's grave and . . .”

“What!” I jumped straight up from the sofa. “You mean I
should've done that, too! I never even thought of it. And I've spent all the money, or not spent it, but handed it out. Why didn't Mr. Sitton tell me? How could I have forgotten such a thing. It should've come off the top before any disbursements were made. Oh, Sam, what am I to do? I've failed in my job!”

Just as I had been ready to pat myself on the back for the professional way I'd executed Mattie's will, here this had to pop up to remind me of how poorly I'd actually done it.

“This is a
mess
!” I cried, wringing my hands to keep from pulling my hair out in despair. “I can't believe I've been so slack. Of
course
there has to be a marker, but not a tombstone, Sam. Not a big granite block with angels or little lambs on it. No, that wouldn't be suitable. Mattie wasn't a little lamb sort of person. I think a simple bronze marker with her name and her birth and death dates with maybe a brief Scripture verse or something.”

“Sit down, honey,” Sam said, reaching for me. “Don't beat yourself up over it. If Mattie made no arrangements for a marker, she may not have even wanted one.”

“Oh, that's a thought, Sam,” I said, whirling around toward him. “She may have already chosen one and paid for it—she did for everything else about her funeral.
Whew!
Wouldn't that be a relief! I'll check with the Good Shepherd Funeral Home first thing tomorrow. It could be that LuAnne has already ordered it.

“But, Sam, if Mattie didn't make arrangements for a marker—I mean, maybe she forgot just as I did. So if she didn't, I will just do it myself.” I plopped down beside him, fully confident that I could redeem my thoughtlessness by selecting, ordering, and installing a suitable marker for Miss Mattie Freeman, and paying for it as well.

“That,” Sam said with an approving smile, “would be an admirable thing to do. And an appropriate one, too. Then you can surely put
paid
to your duties as her executor and her friend.”

“Friend, ha!” I said, stirred up again. “
No
one would saddle a friend with what Mattie left with me. I tell you, Sam, I don't want to execute another will for either friend or foe for as long as I live,
and I certainly don't want to be buying gravesite markers for everybody and his brother! Do you know what those things cost?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

“Well, I don't, either, but it won't be cheap. But let's not talk about what friends do for friends. Mattie remembered everybody she considered her friend in her will. But not me. All she left me was one big mess, and after devoting night and day to her affairs for months, I have to pay to have her grave marked. I'll tell you, Sam, it's a good thing that I'm a Christian—I'd be really upset if I wasn't.”

Sam pulled me over to him, put both arms around me, and whispered softly, indulgently, “Julia, honey, you are a mess. What am I going to do with you?”

So, since he asked, I told him.

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