Chapter 22 Antonia
Antonia
Navigating work when all I wanted to do was spend all my time with Miri was the bane of my reality. Luckily, the hospital had a small conference room I could use for my virtual meetings, and thanks to all the modern technology out there, I could keep in constant contact with my admin.
The person I didn’t want to talk to was Brendan, but that was unavoidable.
He hadn’t called since he’d had the nerve to ask if I was choosing the kids over him.
Even replaying the conversation in my mind caused my blood pressure to rise.
Who in the hell did he think he was? We weren’t married, and after being with him for four years, I sensed no advancement toward a proposal.
Still, he was my boss. Well, one of them.
His father was the one I reported to and who signed my checks, and I’d made sure to email him and let him know Brendan and I were no longer a couple.
I thought it was important to put that out there before Brendan said something to his parents and jeopardized my job.
I didn’t trust Brendan after he’d made another bullshit comment.
I rolled my eyes as I shut my laptop. Miri snickered, and I glared at her. When I’d told her about Brendan and me breaking up, I’d said it was a long time coming. The last thing I needed her to think was that her children were a burden to me. They weren’t.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I told her as I motioned for her to scoot over so I could lie with her. She did and tried not to wince. “What hurts?”
She shook her head and held her breath.
“Breathe,” I reminded her as I looked at the bag of Dilaudid hanging from the IV pole and wondered when the machine would administer the next dose. “Do you want me to get the nurse?”
Miri shook her head. “The pain is subsiding.”
Instead of climbing in bed with her, I stood there for a moment, holding her hand and stroking her hair. “Better?”
Miri nodded.
A knock sounded, and the lawyer I’d hired, Lydia Hurst, came in. She was local and had come highly recommended by Miri’s doctor.
“I’m Antonia,” I said, shaking her hand as she entered.
“This is Miriam.” I smiled at my friend and took in her frail body.
Day by day, she was growing weaker, despite her doctor saying things were on track.
I didn’t believe him. Not when her cheeks looked sunken in and her under-eyes looked bruised.
“Hello, ladies.” Lydia set her briefcase down and pulled out a tablet. “I know we have a lot to cover, so let’s get started.”
Miri cleared her throat. “Everything goes to Antonia,” she said hoarsely. She’d complained that the medicines she was on made her throat feel raw, and at times it hurt to speak.
“No,” I said firmly as I looked at Lydia. “The house needs to go into a trust, with me as executor until Cutter turns eighteen, and then we’ll share the responsibility. Once Nova is of age, they’ll share.”
Lydia nodded and typed on her tablet.
“And you’re taking custody?”
“I am,” I said confidently as I looked at Miri and nodded.
“Okay, so what I’ll do here is write the will, appointing you as the guardian of the minor children. We’ll need a backup.”
“Your parents,” Miri whispered.
“My parents,” I repeated. “Renzo and Carmela Bernardi.”
“Has the children’s father relinquished parental rights?”
My heart dropped as Miri’s eyes widened in horror. I shook my head. “He’s not around. He’s never met Nova and has only spent a few weeks with Cutter about eight years ago.”
“You’ll have to petition for legal custody, especially if he comes forward. The court will also appoint a guardian ad litem for the kids.”
“A what?” I asked, giving Lydia a blank stare.
“A guardian ad litem is a court-appointed individual, often an attorney or trained professional, who represents the best interests of a person. In this case, Cutter and Nova, because they’re minors.”
“Okay, so this person protects the kids and not their father?” Miri asked, and I nodded at her question.
“Yes. They will listen to the kids, speak to friends and family, and give their opinion to the courts. Back to their father . . .”
“Like I said, he’s not around.”
Lydia nodded. “I understand, but the court will require us to reach out to him at his last known.”
With my eyes on Miri and my hand firmly in hers, I nodded. “I’ll happily fight him for those children. He won’t win.”
Lydia continued to type.
“Are you able to financially provide for the children?”
“Yes. I have copies of my statements for you. Also, Miri has a small life insurance policy. That’ll go into whatever it needs to for the kids. We won’t need it.”
“Great, thanks.”
“After Miriam’s passing, the will must go through probate court. This is when it can grant you guardianship.”
“How long will this take?”
“The will and trust setup?”
I nodded.
“Normally, a month, but I cleared my schedule to have this done by Monday for you. In the meantime, I’m going to have Miriam sign a document stating she made this will with me today. This document will be binding.”
Lydia excused herself and took her tablet out of the room.
Again, I combed Miri’s hair back and stared into her hazel eyes.
She looked so sad, and I wished I could take all of this away from her.
No one deserved this, especially her. All she’d ever wanted was to raise her babies in her dream house and just be.
Miri was content with the life she had, never asking for anything.
A tear fell, and I dabbed at my face, mindful of the full makeup I’d had to put on this morning for my meeting.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to her. “This isn’t fair.”
“You’re going to take care of them, right? He won’t get them?”
For the second time today, my blood boiled. “He’ll never get them, Miri. I will fight until I’m blue in the face to protect your babies from him.”
Lydia returned, talking in a high-pitched, happy voice, and bless her heart for her cheerfulness. I turned away and fanned my face to get my emotions under control.
Miri raised her bed as Lydia brought the table closer to her. Miri signed her name, stating the document was her will, and then I signed. This would have to do because time was not our friend.
Before she left, Lydia told us we’d hear from her on Monday. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched my friend.
“Is there anything I need to know?”
She shook her head. “Not that I can think of. Everything’s in my address book. All my accounts, passwords, and social security numbers. Other than the house, I only have my credit card, but there isn’t a lot on there.”
“I should probably go to your office and get your stuff?”
Miri lifted her shoulder. “I think my coworkers there will bring my stuff. It’s mostly pictures of us and the kids.”
I took her hand in mine again. “I need for you to tell me what you want in regard to the kids. Your hopes, dreams, requirements. For sixteen years, I’ve been the fun aunt, and while I’d love to keep things that way, we both know things are changing.”
Miri took a deep inhale and tried to smile. “I really want Cutter to stick with his sports, even though that might be a burden to you.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll work things out with Weston.”
She grinned. “He’s a good man.”
“How come you never dated him?”
Miri shook her head. “Oh no, there is zero spark there. Although I’ve seen him more outside of games since you came to town.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that. He’s just coming around to help out.”
Miri eyed me, and I shook my head.
“There’s absolutely nothing there. Besides, after four years of being with Brendan, I think I’m done.”
“You guys never loved each other. At least, not the way you should’ve after being together that long.”
Unfortunately, I think she was right. We dismissed each other easily, and neither of us had bothered to call or text each other since the fateful night in the kitchen. Surprisingly, I didn’t miss him.
“Enough about my love life. I want to talk about the kids.”
Miri nodded. “I don’t want Cutter to miss out on anything, like prom. He’s such a good boy. Smart. Respectful.”
Moody. But I chalked this up to the fact that his mom was dying, and his teenage emotions were all over the place.
“We’ve talked about college, so I know he wants to go, and Weston thinks he can get a scholarship, but he’ll have to do the travel stuff.”
I nodded. “Weston mentioned it. We’ll sit down and figure it out.”
“It’s a financial burden,” she said, her voice breaking.
“None of this is a burden, Miri, except that we won’t have you.”
Tears welled in our eyes. My vision clouded, making it hard to see my best friend.
“And for Nova?”
Miri lifted her shoulder again. “Her personality is just starting to shine. I’ve been waiting for her to tell me if she wants to take dance classes or play sports. I suspect she wants to follow Cutter, but she should do whatever she wants, ya know?”
I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat.
“They might need some help.”
“I’m already on it, Miri. For all three of us.” They were losing their mom, while I was losing a part of me.
Another knock sounded. I stood and this time wiped my tears away, not giving a shit about my makeup. A trio of women walked in. I only recognized Samira.
“Hi,” Miri said excitedly. “What are you ladies doing here?”
“Well, Toni told us we’d have book club today, and since you’re here, we brought it here,” Samira said as she gave Miri a hug.
“Shit. Sorry, I forgot,” I said.
Samira waved my apology off. “It’s not like you’re not busy. Toni, this is Vera; she owns Petal and Vine, and this is Edith; she owns the General Goods store in town.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” I said as I shook their hands.
“I don’t have my book,” Miri said.
“When was the last time we actually read a book, cover to cover?” Edith asked.
“Besides, we have more important things to talk about,” Vera added.
“Like what flowers I want at my funeral?”
“Miri!” I said, shocked at her statement.
Everyone went silent.
She shrugged. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret. Why can’t I plan things out?”
“You can, honey,” Vera said as she patted Miri’s leg. “You just left us speechless for a moment. We’ll do whatever you want.”
Miri eyed me with one of those “Now what are you going to say?” looks. I shook my head slightly and left to get some more chairs. At the nurses’ station, I asked for two more because I would just sit or stand by Miri.
When I came back, the four of them were in a fit of giggles, which was nice to see but also broke my heart.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” Miri said gruffly.
“Yes, something,” Samira said. “She’s trying to convince us to set you up with our resident coach.”
I found myself rolling my eyes again where Weston was concerned. “Stop.” I covered my face as soon as I felt my cheeks heat up.
“See, she’s blushing because she knows he’s a fine, fine man.” Miri laughed and reached for my hand.
“Have you ever seen a picture of him in his younger days?” Edith tapped on her phone and turned it to show everyone. I leaned in closer to take a good look, and Miri was right: Weston was definitely good looking.
“Ah, you’re interested,” Edith said as she took her phone back.
“He’s been a good coach,” I pointed out. “Cutter needs that right now.”
“Well, I heard from Jerome that Weston has eyes for someone,” Samira said.
“See,” I said to Miri as I pointed toward Samira. “He likes someone, so whatever you’ve conjured up in that mind of yours is wrong.”
Miri laughed. “I still think it’s you,” she said and then proceeded to tell the women about him coming over to the house on more than one occasion, when he’d never been over before, other than to pick up or drop Cutter off.
I lost count of how many times I rolled my eyes and had never been more thankful for work interruptions.
Having the four of them, three of whom I barely knew, discuss my love life as if I weren’t in the room was a bit unnerving.
You could easily tell they were all out of the dating game.
Weston was being neighborly and hadn’t once put it out there that he was interested in me.
Not that I was looking. A week ago, I had a boyfriend. Weston wasn’t even on my radar, and I had no intention of putting him there, despite Miri’s insistence. This would have to be one of those deathbed requests I’d ignore.
The ladies left when Miri started to fall asleep. We hugged in the hallway, and I thanked them for coming. They each volunteered to bring dinner for us while Miri was in the hospital, but I assured them we were fine since my mother was in town.
While she slept, I did more work and received a reply from Brendan’s father to the email I’d sent, assuring me my job was safe, which was a relief. I still had to figure out what the kids and I were going to do.
Cutter wanted to stay in Grove Hill, which I didn’t fault him for. His friends, his teams, and his life were there. My job was in Boston, and working remotely was only going to last for so long. It wasn’t like my job could be in Grove Hill, and it was sort of late to start a new career.
As I looked at Miri, sleeping in the bed with a machine feeding her drugs to try—and do what, prolong the inevitable?—I didn’t know what to do. Staying here was right for the kids, and I’d promised to make them my priority.