6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Maci
M y eyes are heavy and swollen from crying in the morning. Stephanie will happily reprimand me if tears fall at the service. Though, that's the least of my concerns over the coming days.
Only coffee can make this morning better. I drag myself to the kitchen to start a pot, but find Alan already seated at the table, further souring my mood. Nana loathed him and she loved everyone. She never said why, but he has that effect on people. He nurses his black coffee while he reads. How anyone can drink it plain is beyond me. If I were on death row, I would give up my last meal for a perfect cup of coffee with caramel creamer. If they brought it to me black—or Heaven forbid, with sugar only—I would gladly go without in my final minutes.
I open the fridge for the creamer I made sure to pick up at the store. A whole cheesecake stares back at me.
Well, shit.
How did I miss that yesterday?
New York style cheesecake is my absolute favorite. Finding a whole one in Nana’s refrigerator right now is no coincidence. The ache in my chest flares, causing each inhale to become painful. I close my eyes and focus on controlling my breathing .
Eventually, I’m able to fill Nana’s favorite snowman mug and the mixture turns a familiar mocha color. I lean against the butcher block countertop, drinking deeply. The brew is strong, the way Alan’s always made it. It’s about the only thing he’s good for.
Eyes closed, I conjure memories of past mornings in this kitchen. The comforting aroma of Nana cooking biscuits and gravy is just beyond my reach. Unshed tears burn the backs of my eyelids.
Alan clears his throat, drawing my attention. Anger replaces my grief, igniting a tingling current in my veins. A response to years of dealing with moments when Alan gaslit, belittled, or criticized me. Determined not to allow him to overshadow my focus this weekend, I force down my rising anger and turn to leave.
Alan speaks. “I think a ‘thank you’ is in order.”
I whip around. “Excuse me?” His eyes remain buried in his book.
“For the coffee.”
He can’t be serious.
Something inside me snaps. I burst into laughter. A pair of shit-brown eyes finally rise, widening in an uncharacteristically shocked expression. It adds to my amusement and my laughing intensifies. My stomach aches and I rest a hand on the counter for balance. Hysterical tears rain from my eyes.
My mind must be protecting itself, creating a flawed emotional response to avoid dealing with the grief and other long-held emotions that threaten to wreak havoc on my psyche.
Sharp footsteps announce my mother’s arrival. She stops at the threshold. With effort, I peel my eyes open, trying to curb my mania. Stephanie’s mouth falls open as she assesses me with her crystal blue eyes. “Are you alright? ”
Her uncanny ability to douse emotion in cold water prevails. She looks at Alan perplexed. His eyes are fixed on me as he seethes, so still I wonder if he’s breathing.
“Your husband is really funny.”
Alan slams the book closed on the table as he stands. My mother sucks in a small breath, either at his reaction or my apparent mental breakdown.
Something awakens in my mind. The area of my brain responsible for anticipating a threat. Self-preservation. It’s not naturally occurring in everyone. My own was built over a series of moments. My posture morphs into something challenging as I hold my head high and look between them.
My senses hone-in on Alan. From across the room, I hold his stare. “Thanks for the laugh, Alan. I needed that.”
I brush past my mother, still stationed in the doorway, knowing Alan is one step away from blowing his top. I wonder briefly if she’s ever seen it.
The scalding shower eases some of the tension in my muscles and settles my nerves. Covering my swollen eyes beneath a bit of makeup gives me an excuse to spend more time locked in solitude. Finally, I dress, prepared to deal with the day, including our meeting with Nana’s lawyer.
A knock lands on the front door as I enter the hall. Bright blue eyes twinkle beneath the jet black hair of the man giving a friendly wave through the window in the door. He has a very pretty face. Sharp jawline, cleft in his chin, and a killer smile .
For some reason, I anticipated Nana’s lawyer would be older. And grayer. Not that we ever discussed her legal counsel.
I open the door wide and make an effort to sound welcoming. “Come in.”
“Hank Campbell.” His voice is kind and he offers a warm handshake. He’s tall and well-built, even in his impeccably tailored suit. A little buttoned up for my taste, but perfectly within Izzy’s wheelhouse.
“Maci McCullough.” I gesture over my shoulder to the kitchen around the corner. “We should all fit around the dining table, if you’re okay talking in there.”
“Lead the way.” A wave of ease passes over me at his charming, down-to-Earth demeanor.
Randi and Liv are seated on the back side of the dining table. My mother and Alan are seated on the left, both dressed in all black and looking camera ready.
Stephanie stands, followed by Alan, and extends a hand to Hank. “Mr. Campbell, thank you for coming,” she beams. I make an effort not to roll my eyes.
He gives her a returned, short smile. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Young.”
She turns to Alan. “This is my husband, Alan.”
Alan shakes Hank’s hand a little more aggressively than necessary. Hank doesn’t indicate he notices. Alan presses his lips together tightly and sits.
“Randi, Liv.” Hank greets them with a brief nod, causing Stephanie’s eyes to narrow. “I appreciate you all gathering so that we can discuss Ruthie’s will.” He sets his briefcase in the chair closest to him.
Stephanie returns to her seat next to Alan and I lean against the countertop .
“Ruthie has been a client for several years,” Hank explains. “She assigned me as the Executor of her will three years ago.” Tension at the table is palpable, but Hank continues comfortably.
“As the Executor, I will oversee the probate process for the will. Every will is required to go through the same process. This can take quite a while in many cases.” Stephanie’s frame shifts forward and I anticipate the start of an interrogation. Hank gives her a warm smile and gestures softly for her to wait. “Luckily, in Texas, the process can be much faster, and Ruthie’s will and assets are such that you should be at an advantage with time.”
“What should we expect for a timeline?” Alan asks and I clench my teeth. “Weeks? Months?”
“I feel confident we can close the estate in eight weeks. “
Alan bobs his head as if this is an acceptable time frame.
“Now, I’m not sure if any of you have ever been through this process before, but it may look a little different than you’ve seen in the movies.” Hank’s lips lift in a hint of amusement. No one so much as blinks.
I smirk when his eyes land on me. “Tough crowd.” This is not his first rodeo and he seems to be trying to lighten the mood some. Whether the others do or not, I appreciate his efforts.
His grin extends into a full smile with teeth. Beautifully straight, white teeth. I’m dying to send a photo to Izzy. She would be all over him like white on rice, as Nana used to say. The memory brings a smile to my face.
“I won’t be reading the will today. It’s not actually a legal formality.” Hank opens his briefcase and removes a manilla envelope. “However, I am providing each of you a copy.”
He pulls several stapled documents from the manilla folder and passes them around to each of us .
“As soon as the death certificate is received, I will file a petition with the county clerk to start the probate. Getting the certificate can take a few weeks.”
Liv’s eyes widen after she looks hers over and she gapes at Hank.
“In Texas, when probate begins the will is public. Anyone can access it. I’ve provided copies to you for ease and because some of you here are listed in the will. While we won’t read it together, I encourage you to take the time to look it over.
“Once probate has begun, I’ll post a public notice regarding the will. Anyone who may potentially have a claim to Ruthie’s estate has to be notified, and this is how we achieve that. However, I assisted Ruthie in the creation of the will and know with certainty you all are the only individuals listed. Unless there are any secret family members I’m unaware of, you make up the remaining kin, as well, so the notice is a formality.”
He pauses and looks around the room. “If there is something you want to contest or you don’t understand, please reach out to me. Two weeks after the notice is public we’ll begin settling the estate.”
“What does that mean?” Randi’s voice is quiet, her eyes curious.
“Essentially, dividing up any property and funds as Ruthie wanted. She didn’t leave any debts and the assets are limited to the house, car, and a couple bank accounts. And you all lucked out because Texas has no inheritance tax. Legal costs have already been covered, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about before everything is divided as she requested.”
She nods and whispers a thank you, going back to staring at the document in her hands.
“The last step is a hearing to close out the probate process, which I will attend.” He leaves another moment of quiet. “Any questions?”
“We’ll be sure to go through this in detail.” Alan doesn’t look up from the paperwork in his hands as he addresses Hank. If there is going to be any argument to what’s contained in the will, it will be from him. I couldn’t care less if I’ve been left anything or what it is. I’d rather have my grandmother, or at the very least, be free from all of the tension within my family.
Stephanie doesn’t wait for anyone else to respond before standing and reaching out to shake Hank’s hand again. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Campbell. We look forward to your updates.”
“My pleasure.” His formal tone doesn’t go unnoticed. I press my lips together, hiding the rush of glee that races through me at his ability to see through Stephanie.
Randi and Liv murmur gratitude and I stand upright from my place at the countertop. “I’ll walk you out.”
He nods and closes his briefcase, before heading toward the door as I follow with Nana’s will in hand.
At the door, I stop him. “One sec.” I hurry to my room, swapping the will for a business card.
“Shouldn’t I be giving you my card?” he asks pleasantly when I hand it over.
“You can do that, too.” I gesture to his hand. “For updates. I’ll handle Stephanie and Alan.”
Understanding fills his eyes. “You got it.” He puts the card in the pocket of his suit jacket. “Nice to meet you, Maci. Ruthie spoke so highly of you and Liv.” He presses his lips together in a tight smile and I assume in a way, he’s experienced her loss as well.
“Thanks.” I swallow and open the door for him. “Bye, Hank.”
Stephanie and Randi depart to finalize details at the funeral home while Alan retreats upstairs. Liv and I curl onto the living room couches, reminiscing over vacations and sleepovers at Nana’s, and catching up on the past few months.
“Oh my God, do you remember when Nana let us camp in the backyard?” Liv’s eyes are huge and excited.
“Yes!” We were ecstatic. “We thought we were so independent at ten.”
“And then it rained.”
“She was so mad we tracked water in!” We laugh hysterically. Nana was so angry. She made us clean the floors and take down the tent by ourselves. Thinking back, I don’t think we minded. We were just happy to have some dedicated time with our only cousin.
Before long, people start showing up with food, flowers, and way too many hugs. I’m relieved by Liv’s presence and her ability to welcome townspeople when they arrive. Through the years, I’ve had the opportunity to meet some of Nana’s friends during my visits, but my ties to the community are loose. Liv has deep roots here. She’s grown up here, teaches here, and is familiar with many of the guests coming by.
The constant talking and well-wishes bring on a headache, so I busy myself in the kitchen. After cleaning up from breakfast, I decide to start on the refrigerator and the copious amount of food we’ve received.
Frenetic energy has me pulling all the food onto the counters, ignoring the still whole cheesecake, and deep cleaning the fridge. I don’t stop until it’s sparkling clean. As sparkling clean as a ten-year-old fridge can be. Casseroles, bagged salads, meat and cheese trays, and fresh fruit all get reorganized into the refrigerator.
The elbow grease I pour into the cleaning eases little of the buzzing within me. Guilt at leaving Liv alone to greet everyone intensifies my muddled emotions. I make my way back into the living room as overzealous springs cause the storm door to slam closed as someone leaves.
Liv stands uncomfortably in the entryway. “I need a minute.” It’s a request, but she waits for me to confirm before turning for the kitchen.
“Of course. Go.” She squeezes me in a hug before disappearing into the kitchen. Car doors close in the driveway, whoever inadvertently slammed the screen door leaving, and silence rests in the entryway. I drink it in.
Cool October air breezes through the screen door. Nana always enjoyed an open house and in some way it keeps her around. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. I love fall.
Footsteps on the porch startle me and my eyes pop open as someone taps on the wooden door frame.
“Hi, come in.” I try to affix a pleasant smile to my face, but I know it isn’t genuine and I’m convinced they know it, too.
It’s not like you owe everyone a smile. Your grandmother just died.
I cringe at myself.
A woman and man, I presume to be mother and son, enter. She’s holding several containers and his arms are full of insulated bags.
We’re going to need another refrigerator.
“Hi.” The woman’s eyes twinkle and her smile is sunny. She reminds me of a summer day. It makes smiling back at her easier. “I’m Andi Strickland. This is my son, Sutton.”
My eyes flit to the man behind her, also sun-kissed. He evidently works outdoors, and judging by the amount of food he’s holding easily, he does hard labor. His expression isn’t unkind, just blank.
“Thank you for coming. I’m Maci, Ruthie’s granddaughter.”
Liv approaches from behind me. “Here, let me take that.” She extends her arms to the stack of dishes Andi holds .
“I’ll come with you.” Andi follows Liv into the kitchen with Sutton still carrying the bags behind her. If he minds, he doesn’t show it.
The only thing people bring more of than food is flowers. I don’t understand why. Logically, I will accept the tradition has some historical connection to scent. Past that, they only die. A reminder of death and of what’s just been lost.
Unfortunately, the overwhelming combination of floral notes is giving me a headache. The few side tables where they’ve all been placed are overflowing and with nothing to expend my nervous energy, I begin rearranging the vases chock-full of freesia, roses, tulips, and wildflowers.
“I’m not gonna watch you die,” I mutter to a vase of mixed wildflowers. “First sign of drooping and I’m tossing you.” Beside it is a tiny basket of pink buds. As if the fact that they haven’t bloomed yet will grant them eternity in this house. My eyes roll. “Rather have a cactus.”
Turning from the vase, I startle at Sutton standing in the entryway again. Studying me.
Good job, you lunatic.
Liv and Andi return from the kitchen chatting quietly, the insulated bags tucked under Andi’s arm. Liv has more color to her face than I’ve seen the last few days. “I’ve been craving your jam.”
I slip past them onto the front porch, taking a deep breath to flush out the flower shop from my sinuses. When the door doesn’t bump against the frame like normal, I snap my head back and find Sutton has followed me out.
“I’m just headed out to the truck,” he offers, showing me the insulated bags he now holds as proof. His voice is deep and smooth. It seeps into my body, warming me. From his straw hat and tan button-up to his jeans and dirty boots, he looks like he stepped out of a Texas Ranchers magazine. It doesn’t even matter that his sandy hair is somewhat long, not quite brushing his shoulders.
“It’s fine.” I wave him off, moving to the porch railing which wraps around the entire house. Sutton dips his chin in my peripheral, a typical southern departure.
My eyes tingle. Of its own volition, my mouth opens and words tumble out. “We were supposed to have lunch.”
Sutton halts at the top of the steps, but doesn’t speak. His eyes are trained on me.
One of my arms flails wildly at the porch swing before coming back to drag two fingers along my eyebrow. “She made cheesecake. It’s my favorite.” The last part comes out in a whisper, but catapults me into a frenzy of words. “She knew I was coming. It was planned. She did it for me.”
I throw my head back studying the roof of the porch. “She was perfectly fine. Her normal self. We were going to Aimee’s. It’s her favorite.” I right my head, letting my eyes fall to the floor. I can’t bring myself to look at him. “Was…It was her favorite.”
Tears pool in the corners of my eyes and I will them away, swallowing thickly. It doesn’t help. “She was my favorite person in the whole world.”
Sutton’s boots thump against the wooden planks, approaching slowly. He remains silent, likely thinking I could lash out at any second.
Wild energy bounces around inside of me. I exhale heavily, hoping to rid myself of some of it. What possessed me to share so openly? “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” He takes another step, his boots coming fully into my downward gaze. Finally, I meet his steel-gray eyes. He studies me, tipping his chin down. “Grief isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign that you loved deeply.”
My mouth parts slowly. The tears threaten to spill over again and I blink. I wasn’t expecting him to say something so insightful.
The screen door creaks open and Andi steps onto the porch. Her eyes zero in on Sutton and I near the porch swing. She gives me another sunny smile, behind which I feel a measure of her own loss. I wonder briefly what it would be like to have a mother who looked at me similarly.
“We don’t want to overstay our welcome.” Her eyes swipe to Sutton then back to me. “But we’ll be around if we can help with anything. I’m so sorry for your loss, Maci.”
“Thank you,” I manage hoarsely.
Andi looks at Sutton once more then heads down the stairs. My eyes trail her movements absently, dropping to the wood planks. Sutton shifts forward again, causing my gaze to slide up his body. He has a soothing nature, like beautifully still waters.
His mouth opens to say something, but fresh tires coming over the drive catch my attention. I welcome the interruption. I don’t have the bandwidth for all this emotion and support.
“Nice to meet you.” My voice comes out a little harsher than intended.
Sutton straightens and takes a step back, and I walk past him into the house.
Stupid small town.