Chapter 30
ABIGAIL
Once the bedrooms were clear and the hallway carpet was hauled to the curb, the house felt lighter and cleaner even. The best news was that the floorboards were in good shape. The bad news was that Reilly would have to leave earlier than planned, so we canceled our plans today and packed up our rooms—Seneca”s and mine—while Elias and Reilly packed up the den and moved all those bookcases out to the garage.
”Dude, why are you leaving so soon? I can”t move all this shit without you,” Elias begged.
Reilly shoved his hand through his hair, gave me a side look, and then turned his back to speak with Elias privately.
”Isn”t it obvious? Seneca hates me, which means Abigail hates me, and I don”t want to drive a wedge between you two.” Reilly checked his phone like he was receiving some critical information, but I knew it was bullshit. I asked Elias to confront him on what he said, and he was being a pussy and not giving a straight answer. I”d pushed Seneca this morning, and she would only tell me he made a lewd pass at her and that he was a dick. There had to be more because Seneca got off on besting assholes, so I pressed her again.
”Honey, you eat dicks like this for breakfast.” Okay, maybe that came out wrong.
She adjusted her bra, lifting each bosom in its cup to ensure they were up and even. ”I don”t know, Abs. Something about him unsettles me, and I can”t put my finger on it.”
I pondered. ”Does he creep you out?” I said cocking my head to the side.
She pressed her lips as she looked upward. ”No, more like his intensity. How he looked at me was intense, as if he knew something about me, and it freaked me out. How could he know I loved sucking dick?” She smacked her hand over her mouth.
”He said that to you?” I was aghast.
She pressed her hands onto the countertop and leaned in. ”He suggested that, when he saw me with my mouth stuffed with pizza and the grease dripping down my chin, I”d like what he had to offer.”
I smacked the counter. ”No fucking way!” I leaned onto my forearms and enjoyed this story more than I should have. ”I bet you looked hot.”
”Abigail! I did not.” I understood that she felt indignant, but hey, he”s a guy, so . . .
I traced a finger over the marble countertop around the island until I stood before her.
”You like him, don”t you?”
Her eyes blew wide, and her chest heaved. She shook her head vigorously.
”You do, and it scares you, doesn”t it?” She shook her head again.
I pulled her into a hug. These big feelings are scary. If I”ve learned nothing these past weeks, it is that sharing them with someone helps to ease the anxiety of dealing with them alone.
”Don”t be afraid, Sen. He”s leaving later today. You don”t have to act on them now; just let them flow, okay?”
She pushed me back and cupped my face, and said, ”Why are you all of a sudden so freaking calm? That”s my job.”
I kissed her lips quickly, ”Because you taught me well,” and kissed her again. ”Now get your ass upstairs; we have two hours to pack our rooms. Leave anything that looks like junk in the middle of the room, and I”ll bag it up later to review.
ELIAS
”You”re seriously going to run away from a little tension? You caused it, now be a man and apologize. As for your farm needing your immediate assistance, that”s bullshit, too. Say you”re sorry, and let”s move on.”
Were we back in junior high? I felt like a goddamned principal mediating my students.
”Fine. Later. Let”s move the big stuff to the garage in case I need to make a quick escape.”
I”d never seen him like this. Reilly doesn”t ”escape.” He”s more of a run-to kind of guy. I”d leave it alone for now, but I”d corner him soon enough and find the real reason he wanted to leave.
Abigail and Seneca walked down the barren hallway—the sound echoing off the walls. Abigail braided her hair into a loose crown like her great-great-grandmother wore, and Seneca piled her hair in a messy knot on her head. The two looked like sisters from another mother yet bound tight with history.
”What”s the plan, fellas?” Seneca barked, still with an attitude. I didn”t have time for drama, so I let it roll off my back.
I stood tall, stretching my arms and back, noticing Abigail”s eyes laser into my muscles. ”The plan is to get everything out of your rooms so Reilly and I can tear out the carpet after lunch. Rain is on the way, which works well for us since we need to arrange the living room furniture, allowing us to live there.”
Everyone nodded and got to work. Abigail and Seneca pulled all their belongings together and moved them down by the bay window, and Reilly and I lugged their mattresses into the downstairs hallway. Before long, every closet and every room were bare except the carpet. I locked up the garage, and Reilly and I tacked down the tarps I bought a few days ago. I”m happy Abigail didn”t forget to mention the leak, or she could have potentially lost a million-plus dollars in one storm. Her setbacks were my setbacks, and I would move heaven and earth to keep those from happening.
Organizing the living room and parlor was akin to children claiming the best bedroom.
Seneca staked her claim first. ”I love you guys, but I”m not sleeping next to you while you rut against each other in the middle of the night. My bed will be by the giant mirror on the complete opposite side of these rooms.”
Reilly was next. ”Well, I sure as hell am not sleeping next to them either.” He pushed the long couch against the fireplace and tugged his mattress five feet from Seneca”s, who blew her lid.
”No way! You”re leaving today, so you don”t get a spot.” I knew we were in trouble when she pointed a finger at him.
He smirked as he informed her otherwise. ”News flash, sweetheart. I”m staying the rest of the week. My crisis has been averted. I”m sleeping here.”
Have you heard the expression, ”Don”t have a cow?” Congratulations—we now have a tension-calf.
”Abigail! Kitchen! Now!” Seneca shouted. Abigail”s face blanched, and she looked to me for support.
When they left the room, I jammed a finger into Reilly”s chest.
”What the fuck, Big Guy? You were supposed to apologize, not throw fuel on the fire. Calling her “sweetheart” when she was that mad was an act of war, and, buddy, this war is yours to fight.”
I left him there as he rubbed his forehead and cautiously entered the kitchen. Abigail was rubbing her friend”s shoulders and speaking calmly. It felt ironic to have Abigail be the calm, collected one, but she rose to the occasion and helped her friend as best she could through the crisis.
”Three nights, Sen. That”s all I”m asking for. You have my permission to kick him in the balls if he starts up with you again.” Seneca chuckled and took a deep breath. She turned around and hugged Abigail tightly.
”I”ll do it, you know,” she whined. ”Consider this a housewarming present. My sacrifice is your gain.”
I stepped over and hugged them both. ”Thank you, Seneca. I”ve never seen Reilly act this way before. He”s usually chill and complimentary, but I told him to get his head out of his ass and apologize.”
”Thank you, Big Guy,” Abigail crooned.
”He better apologize,” Seneca demanded.
”Can I join the group hug?” Reilly asked, approaching our huddle and waiting for a response.
”I”m sorry, Seneca. I don”t know what came over me, but I”m sorry for being an ass. What I said was lewd and completely inappropriate. It will never happen again.” Of course, she took her sweet time answering.
”I accept your apology,” she choked out. I was proud of her for taking the olive branch. You can”t move forward if you”re holding onto the past. Reilly prudently put his arms around mine and Abigail”s backs, averting any contact with Seneca.
When our huddle broke, we all returned to the living room and strategically placed the furniture for privacy. Abigail and I pushed the sofa to the bay window and moved the coffee table across the room by a side window, giving us enough room to place her king-sized mattress. We pulled the secretary over in front of it, cutting off a direct line of sight to the others. I didn”t mind sharing the space in the short term, but I wasn”t sleeping in my clothes, and neither was my girl. As we moved the furniture this last bit, the cover fell down, revealing several cubbies filled with envelopes of varying sizes. A lap drawer opened, and a letter addressed to Angela Farnsworth spilled out.
What the hell? ”Uh, Abigail. I think you should see this.”
She flipped the envelope several times, feeling the contours of its contents. When she found the courage to open it she began to tremble. ”Help me, Elias,” she cried. I hugged her from behind while she read the letter.
March 10th, 2004
Dear Angela,
You may not remember me, but I am a distant cousin and have only just learned of my mother”s inheritance. Sadly, she passed away last month, and I found the contents of this letter among her things. I hope it brings you joy knowing you are a very wealthy woman. Please get in touch with the number below for more details.
Best Always,
Reginald Armstrong (Lillian Farnsworth”s son. She took her family name back when my parents divorced.)
Contact person: Mr. Anthony Brickner, Esq. 247-553-2200
”Did your attorney ever mention this to you?” I was annoyed. She should be annoyed, too.
”No! But I”m calling him right now.” Abigail ripped the paper from my hand and went outside on the side porch to make her call. She returned quickly, deflated.
”He didn”t answer,” Abigail said emphatically. “I left a rather angry message that he call me the minute he got my message. How could he not have told me about this letter? He couldn”t deny he knew because his fucking number was written on it, and it was dated twenty years ago. Did my mom ever see this?”
I reread the date and realized she couldn”t have received it. She was already dead. Did Reginald write this letter and not send it? There was no postage on the envelope. I”m so confused. I folded the paper, tucked the letter back in its envelope, and left it on my pillow.
Seneca ran to hug her, and she stood confused. Reilly was clueless, and Abigail didn”t care at that moment. This was a mystery for the history books. She emptied the remaining documents from the secretary and put them in a paper bag to review later. This inheritance was getting trickier by the day.
Our new living arrangements were almost complete when the doorbell rang. We stopped moving around as if we were hiding something, and our eyes shifted left and right. Abigail threw her hands in the air, still annoyed from earlier.
”We”re not hiding anything, geez.” She opened the door, and, to our dismay, it was the police. Fuckty-fuck!
”Hello, Officer. Can I help you?” She pasted on a pleasant smile for the man.
”Are you Abigail Farnsworth?” She nodded. ”I”m Officer Hutchinson, Ellen”s husband.” What the actual fuck?
”Wow, yeah, hello. Is everything okay? Am I in trouble?” Abigail threaded her fingers together, wringing them white.
”No, ma”am, although you can”t leave that carpet lying on the curb like that. I know you just moved in, and garbage day is tomorrow, but you should get a dumpster if you plan on leaving piles like that by the street.”
”Oh! Goodness, no. I knew that—I”m doing that—it won”t happen again.”
My girl was stressed out, and I couldn”t let her feel that way alone, so I crossed the room and stood behind her in the foyer, extending my hand.
”Hi. I”m Elias McGinnis, Abigail”s boyfriend. Is everything okay?” I could feel Abby lean into my chest for support or to keep from falling down.
”Everything is fine. This is more of a social call. Ellen, my wife, said you”re quite the legacy around these parts, and I wanted to assure you that if you need any assistance, please get in touch with my office. We do regular nightly surveillance drives in this neighborhood, and the area Social Committee has us over to talk about self-defense and home protection now and again. I would encourage you to come by the Chamber of Commerce and learn all you can about Mystic and what it has to offer. Here”s my card. Call anytime.”
Stepping off the porch, he turned to wave, as Abigail quietly shut the door, eyes bugged out.
”Holy hand grenades! I didn”t see that coming. Ellen”s husband? That must have been a lively dinner conversation Friday night. Do they think I have nothing better to do than sit around drinking tea and eating crumpets?”
I”d learned to let it run its course when Abigail was in a theatrical mood. Once she was done burning off steam, she”d be ready to be rational, so I bit my tongue and noted the upside of not getting involved today.
Another exhausting day came to an end, and my plans for a bonfire literally fizzled out due to rain. Instead, I offered to run out to pick up barbeque for dinner and the necessary ingredients for s’mores. Hell, we”d do well to have some tequila handy, too. That was until Abigail”s phone rang.
All eyes shifted to her ashen face, and I walked to my pillow to pick up the letter. She gave me a weak smile and waited to hear what this letter meant to Abigail.
ABIGAIL
”Hello, Mr. Brickner. I”m sorry for the harsh tone of my message, but it seems you left out a huge chunk of information regarding my inheritance.”
”While it appears that I did, it was intentional. I was charged with keeping this trust intact and protected for the lifetime I cared for it. The enormity of this estate would have been too much for such a young woman, or anyone for that matter, to handle at once. You said it yourself that you weren”t sure you were up to the task. My phone call last week sounded promising, and, although you don”t know it yet, I was planning a visit next month to see for myself if you were ready for the final installment of your inheritance.”
I began feeling claustrophobic and needed to walk. I pulled on my coat and hit the gravel driveway again like it was my personal treadmill. ”Please continue.”
”I have been the executor of this estate since 1962, long before you were born. My father was the executor for more than a half-century before that. Remarkably, his father held the estate from its inception in 1878. Since then, we have protected every Farnsworth interest, and you are no exception. These past two decades were the hardest in that we didn”t want the house to stand unused, so we leased it to caring, respectful people so that when you were old enough, you could gain control.”
My head was spinning, and I felt nauseous. My life was an episode of the Twilight Zone, and I had only begun to open my eyes to what was happening around me.
”That”s a lot to take in, but please tell me, why didn”t you contact me when I turned eighteen or twenty-one? I”m twenty-four now, so why the wait?”
He didn”t respond quickly, and I knew another punch was coming.
”Abigail, dear. I waited until you cut ties with your Aunt Eleanor or were more settled in your life.”
”Why? I left her house right after graduation. Wasn”t that enough?”
”It could have been, but I was at your high school graduation, though you didn”t know it, and I witnessed her coldness and disdain for having to be there. ”Pretenses,” I believe she said, was why she attended. I couldn”t protect the estate if I thought she would abuse you in the process. The money and the property weren”t going anywhere, and I”m sure you”d agree you weren”t ready to accept such a large gift.”
Tears ran down my face, registering how completely accurate his accounting was. He was at my graduation. He”d been hiding in the shadows since the day my mother died. That reminded me.
”Mr. Brickner, why didn”t my mother get this letter? Did she know about the inheritance? Why was it in the secretary drawer?”
He chuckled at my rapid-fire questions. ”She never received the letter because she didn”t know about Lillian”s passing. Her son, Reginald, must have left it in the secretary you mentioned. Your Aunt Eleanor was never notified because she was estranged from your mother for many years. They didn”t reconcile until you were born, and your mom needed family support. Again, Abigail, your family is protected not only by the inheritance but also by my family. When I said you reminded me of my granddaughter, I was referring to you, though not by blood.”
I sat down in the middle of the driveway, unable to hold myself up any longer. Mr. Brickner”s family had shielded me for my whole life? Blood seemed to drain from my body and my brain sizzled with this new information.
”Abigail, are you still there?” His concern was touching. I liked the idea of him being my grandfather.
”Yeah, I”m here.”
”I hope you”re sitting down because the next piece of information I have for you will knock you on your bottom.”
Dear God, please let it be good. I can”t take much more.
”I”m sitting,” I whispered.
”I”m proud to tell you that if my visit next month is successful, you”ll inherit twenty million dollars.”
I don”t remember what happened next. Elias said he ran out of the house when he saw me lying in the driveway. He said he heard Mr. Brickner calling for me and told him I”d call back when I regained consciousness. Now that I had, I could hardly speak. Elias told Seneca and Reilly to get lost for a while, and I could hear them shuffle out of the room.
”Sweetheart, are you alright? Can you breathe? What did he say that made you pass out? He wouldn”t tell me.”
My darling Elias looked pale with concern. He swaddled me in a blanket and held me like a baby until I looked him in the eyes.
”Elias,” was the only thing I said.
”Baby, listen to me. Whatever he said, we”ll handle it together. I love you so much; please don”t let this thing consume you.”
Hmm.He loved me no matter what. That”s nice. I pulled my feet out of his tight hold and sat up.
I mouthed, ”Twenty million dollars,” but the sound stuck in my throat.
”I don”t understand, Abby. What did you say?” I tried again. He made the mouth motions with me, and suddenly he screamed, ”Twenty million dollars? You have twenty million dollars? Fuck, Abigail, your luck keeps getting better and better.”