Second Chances (7 page)

When they arrived for the service, Mr. LaRue and his assistant greeted the women at the front door of the chapel. “Miss Melrose, please let me show you around. We would like your approval before the guests begin to arrive. If something doesn’t suit your liking, there’s still time to change things.” The assistant, Miss Grimes, walked the visitation areas and the dining room with Abby, Mel, and Betsy. She showed them the floral arrangements and the guest book, then described the meal to be served and the refreshments. In the foyer was a memory board of Charlotte’s life, and a large photograph of her was in front of the casket. For the moment, the closed casket was behind a curtain.

“Miss Melrose, would you like to see your mother before the guests arrive? That’s the normal protocol, just to be sure she looks exactly how you want her to. Viewing her in advance will take away some of the initial shock you might have if you wait until later. It will also let you decide if you want an open or closed casket. I apologize for being so direct, ma’am. I know this is a difficult time for you.”

“Thank you, but I’ll wait for a few minutes. I need a little more courage first, then I’d like to see her alone, if that’s okay.”

“Whenever you’re ready. We have a small family area with coffee if you ladies want to sit in there for a bit.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Let’s go take some deep breaths,” Melanie said. She gave Betsy a look of concern because the tears welling up in Abby’s eyes indicated she was on the verge of a breakdown. “Come on, honey, let’s sit.”

Chimes rang out on the quarter hour. It was ten fifteen, and the guests would arrive soon.

“I guess I better do this before people arrive. Betsy, will you go find Miss Grimes, please?”

“Of course, I’ll be right back.”

Miss Grimes returned with Betsy, offering her arm for Abby to hold on to. “Are you ready, Miss Melrose?”

“Yes, I’m ready.” Abby smoothed her dress as she stood, brushed away the tears rolling down her cheeks, and walked toward the front of the chapel with her arm linked in Miss Grimes’s.

Melanie and Betsy stood and watched Abby go beyond the curtain with tears of their own.

“I’ll leave you alone with her, Miss Melrose. Take your time.”

Abby stood at the foot of the casket, staring at the floor, afraid to look at her mother. Guilt tore at her heart for the years lost, the rift between them that she didn’t have time to repair.

“Mom, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I put you through. You were only looking out for my best interest, especially since Dad was gone. I wish I could rewind the last two weeks. I love you, Mom.” Abby finally looked up and approached the head of the casket. She stared at Charlotte, lying there as if she were sleeping. “You look beautiful, and I know you wouldn’t want anyone to see you if you didn’t look perfect.” She carefully touched Charlotte’s cheek. She slipped a family photo from years gone by under her mother’s hand, and alone, behind the velvet curtain, she wept. The chimes rang out again at ten thirty. Abby kissed her mother’s forehead then left for the ladies room to regain her composure.

The chapel was standing room only. Every seat was taken by Charlotte’s acquaintances from the many clubs and committees she belonged to. Fewer than ten chairs held family and lifelong friends. Abby didn’t remember ever meeting the four people claiming to be family, but Charlotte’s cousin, a second cousin, a great uncle, and her mother’s sister-in-law were in attendance, sitting in the family chairs. They were strangers accepting condolences, relatives Abby had never met, who just happened to appear for Charlotte’s funeral. Forcing a smile, Abby asked each one when they last saw Charlotte. Not one had visited Charlotte in the eighteen years she had lived on South Battery. “Too little, too late,” Abby whispered under her breath.

The eulogist and minister did a fine job talking about the generous person Charlotte was to all her friends and family. She was a loving wife and a wonderful mother, too. Abby glanced in Betsy’s direction and raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows, knowing the eulogy was a little inflated, but she smiled anyway.

During the luncheon, Abby mingled with all the people in the dining hall. She learned of the many boards Charlotte was on and the charitable contributions she’d made. Her mother truly was a philanthropist. Abby felt better by the end of the day. At two thirty, the crowd dispersed, and Abby, Mel, and Betsy sat down on the chairs nearest the casket.

“She did look beautiful, Abby. I’m sure that was a relief for you. Would it be okay if I slip something in the casket?” Betsy asked.

“Of course, but what is it? I’m curious now.”

“I want to return the first dollar Miss Charlotte ever gave me as her employee. I saved it all these years. I didn’t have a lot of my own these past fifteen years, Abby, but I did have a beautiful home to live in. And even though your mom was strict, she still treated me fairly. I appreciate the years I lived on South Battery.”

“That’s really a nice gesture. Thank you. If you need some privacy, Mel and I can go in the other room. When we’re done in here, the three of us—and those mysterious family members—are going to escort Mom to the gravesite. There will be a small prayer service, and we’ll lay roses on her casket. After that, we’ll each drop a shovelful of dirt on the casket as they’re lowering it. Are you guys okay with doing that?”

The ladies agreed and had a moment to share a group hug. Betsy spent five minutes alone with Charlotte, then they followed the hearse down the gravel road to the gravesite.

Five days had passed since the funeral. Abby felt relieved it was over, and other than any settlements that might or might not be forthcoming, the only thing left was the reading of the will.

She had already filled out the papers on Monday giving Attorney Lewis permission to go forward with a lawsuit against City Waste and Recycling. The reading of the will would take place tomorrow. Abby felt odd, wondering who the other four people were that would be sitting next to her in the attorney’s office. She obviously wasn’t close to the few relatives that conveniently showed up at the funeral, yet she didn’t know if Charlotte had kept in touch with them over the phone.

Thursday morning, after dropping Melanie off at work, Abby came home and dressed in a simple eggplant-colored pantsuit with a string of pearls around her neck, and matching earrings. The appointment was set for ten a.m., and she was nervous.
This could determine what I do with the rest of my life,
she thought as she applied her makeup with a cup of coffee sitting beside her on the bathroom countertop. Her hands shook as she thought about the next few hours. She tried to focus on her to-do list for the next few days. She certainly had to buy a car, needing her own set of wheels.
I’ll look online later for a good used car. At least after the reading of the will, I’ll know what I can afford.

Attorney Lewis’s office was on Calhoun Street in a stately Georgian-style red brick building. The cornerstone dated the structure to 1790. Abby, who loved old architecture, nodded with appreciation as she walked up the granite steps to the front door with a Palladian window above it. She entered and took the marble staircase to the second floor. Attorney Lewis’s lavish office was the first door on the left at the top of the stairs. The receptionist, Adrianne, acknowledged Abby, asked her to take a seat, then disappeared through a door behind her desk. As Abby sat in the ornate waiting area, she took notice of the other people sitting there, too. She didn’t recognize any of them.

The large mahogany double doors opened, and Attorney Lewis stood there, inviting everyone that sat in the waiting room into his office at the same time. Her nerves kicked in again, making Abby’s stomach feel like a roller coaster doing steep climbs and free falls at an amusement park. After the usual pleasantries, Attorney Lewis introduced everyone, beginning with Abby. Following her were the presidents and CEOs of the Art Institute of Charleston, the Historic Charleston Foundation, and Charleston Animal Society, and the owner of At Your Service natural foods store. A lightheadedness came over Abby as she took a sip of water while they sat at the conference table with Attorney Lewis across from the five of them. Whatever was coming next probably wasn’t in Abby’s best interest. Since her mother never made it to the attorney’s office to change the will before she died, Abby didn’t know if Charlotte had even called Attorney Lewis to tell him of her plan. With four other people sitting there with her, she was sure her fate was doomed.

“Okay, shall we begin?” Attorney Lewis glanced at everyone, waiting for an affirmative nod. He informed them that Charlotte had left ten million dollars each to the art institute and the historic foundation. The animal society would receive five million dollars, and the owner of the natural foods store would receive two million dollars. Abby’s trust fund was frozen until she turned forty, at which time she would inherit the remainder of her mother’s estate. For the time being, the house on South Battery was hers, free and clear but with one stipulation. She was
never
allowed to sell the home. It could only be passed down to future generations of the Melrose family. With the will read, the four others celebrated, and each signed the necessary paperwork and left. Sitting alone with Attorney Lewis, Abby was stunned with disbelief.

“May I read the will myself?” she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Of course you may,” he said, sliding a copy across the conference table.

Abby read it twice, slowly and carefully. “You never got a call from her to say she was coming in to change her will?”

“No, Abigail. I’m sorry, but I never received that call. The current will is the last version I have on record. She never asked me to amend it.”

“How could she do this to me? I’m her only child. Do you have the slightest idea what the property taxes are on that mansion, let alone the general upkeep and flood insurance costs? I can’t ever sell it, and I have to wait thirteen years before I can touch my trust fund. She never earned a penny of that fortune. It was all my dad’s genius and hard work that made her rich. That
bitch
! I can’t believe she would be this vindictive, this cruel to me. I made one lousy mistake with my
own
money, and this is my payback, while three organizations and a flipping food store get millions!”

“Abigail, don’t forget we’re trying for a wrongful death lawsuit. You could possibly walk away with millions right there.”

“Yeah, and a lot of bad karma and voodoo juju, damn it! Keep me posted.” Abby stormed out the door, slamming it extra hard. She drove to Melanie’s workplace, calling her on the way. “Do you have time to take me home? I won’t be able to pick you up after work.”

“Sure, I can do that, but why?”

“Because I’m going to be drunk by then and incapable of driving,” Abby said as she pulled up along the curb.

“Crap. It didn’t go well at the attorney’s office?”

“Not even close. I’m outside, by the way.”

“Okay. I’ll be down in five minutes.”

The three women sat in the library after dinner, trying to come up with a plan to support the household. Abby nestled in, her feet scrunched up under her body on the antique wingback chair, while Betsy and Melanie got comfortable on the overstuffed sofa.

“I still can’t believe what my mom did to me. I’m either going to break out in acne or get a stomach ulcer any minute now. I ran the numbers this afternoon, and it almost made me throw up. Do you guys realize the property taxes here are more than twenty-five thousand dollars a year? That’s insane, and the flood insurance is ten thousand dollars annually. Household bills like electricity, natural gas, water, Internet, and cable are eight hundred fifty a month. Attorney Lewis gave me the tax and insurance statements this morning, then I made phone calls this afternoon to get all the bills transferred out of my mom’s name and put into mine. I didn’t even have time to get drunk because I was so busy reading over all this paperwork and getting pissed off.”

Abby pressed her palms against her temples and shook her head.

“You guys, I’m seriously going to freak out with these expenses right now. I have to come up with something, and quick. Mom’s funeral expenses were ten thousand dollars, so there isn’t much left of the cash we found. After the regular bills I have to pay and then tacking on incidentals, it will come to fifty thousand dollars a year just to support this house, and the kicker is I’m not allowed to sell it. It’s payback on Mom’s part. I know it is. She wants me to prove I can be responsible and resourceful when I have absolutely no money. There’s no way I can afford to go to school now or buy a car. Damn it, I do need a drink after all. Anyone care to join me?”

“I’ll get it. Just stay put and breathe.” Betsy pulled three rocks glasses out of the liquor cabinet and poured single malt scotch into each one. “I do have an idea,” she said as she passed out the glasses.

“Throw it out there, sister. I’m game for anything,” Abby said with a sip and a sigh.

“How about taking in boarders?”

“Huh? You mean like transient, homeless people, or drunks and drug addicts that are on a twelve-step program? That idea wouldn’t go over very well in this neighborhood, if you know what I mean. I appreciate your suggestion though.”

“No, Abby, that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean regular folks. Look what Mel was paying for an eight-hundred-fifty-square-foot apartment, and that didn’t even include utilities. You don’t have to pay me a wage anymore. I’m getting room and board in this beautiful mansion. The least I can do is keep it clean and cook the food I’m eating.”

“Yeah, that goes for me, too. I was paying a thousand fifty dollars without utilities. The least I can do is pay the same I was paying in an apartment that was an eighth the size of this house. How many people can say their address is on East or South Battery? That in itself is worth the look on people’s faces. Think about it. There are still six empty bedrooms in this house. Why waste them? Let’s turn this mansion into the place everyone wants to call home. It can be like a permanent bed-and-breakfast. Betsy can be in charge of meals, which of course would be included in their rent. There’s three more bedrooms the size of ours that have private baths and three smaller bedrooms that don’t. We’ll charge rent according to the size of the room and how many meals a day Betsy makes. It’s actually doable, Abs.” Melanie and Betsy were clearly excited by the possibilities.