Chapter Twenty-Six
Eliza didn’t stay long at the birthday party after she ate a few cornichons and some spicy salami. Some guy introduced himself to her as Ken and thought it was a good line to point out that her long blond hair meant she could be Barbie?— Seriously? That pathetic come-on pushed her over the edge, which admittedly she’d been standing pretty close to already. She gave Scott and Maren hugs and told them she was out, but not before they invited her to a Friendsgiving at their place.
She’d been trying to avoid thoughts of Thanksgiving, even though it was bearing down like a hurricane. Hurricane Tom the Turkey. Laura had loved Thanksgiving and always made lots of classically uncool sides?—like green-bean casserole and canned cranberry sauce. Carol was all about catering. The food was always delicious, but prepared by strangers. The meal became the perfect embodiment of how life had changed. The switch from homey and low-key but full of love to superficially gorgeous and elaborate but, at best, cold.
Not surprisingly, Carol hadn’t extended an invitation to her for this year, and she didn’t know what communication she’d had with Scott about the holiday, but Scott and Maren had decided to host a Friendsgiving dinner the Tuesday evening beforehand and go to Maren’s parents’ place for the day itself. “We didn’t think you’d want to drive all the way to Vermont,” Maren had said.
Or you don’t want to be stuck in a car with me for six hours.
As she rode up the elevator to the law offices of Morris, Muhlfelder and Gleason, she wondered if she’d be disinvited once they knew that she was officially fighting Carol’s interpretation of Jack’s will. She’d told Vanessa that she had a dentist’s appointment and would be in late. She didn’t want to talk about her family situation with her coworkers, and if she were lucky, she’d miss at least part of the meeting scheduled for that morning with NOY board members, Ross, and several of his NYU colleagues. The less time she spent in his presence the better. She bit her lip at that thought, which had ruled her when it came to her relationship with Jack. Now that she had no time left with the father who’d raised her, she realized perhaps that had been a mistake.
When she opened the office door, the first thing she saw was a large bouquet of flowers in shades of yellow, orange, and red on the receptionist’s desk. Eliza was probably the only person in the world who didn’t smile at the sight of a bouquet. They always reminded her of the ones that were constantly coming to the house while Laura was sick.
The same receptionist with steel gray hair stood to greet her. Someone must have told her that she was now going to be a paying client. “Come on back,” she said. “I’ll take you to Vicky. I’m Pam.”
“Nice to meet you,” she replied as she followed her down the hall.
When Vicky rose from her desk, Eliza could see that today she was wearing a cream twinset with navy pants, the same gold link chain around her neck. She was like a walking advertisement for Ann Taylor.
“Come in, sit down,” Vicky urged, and Eliza obeyed. “Thanks so much for coming back in. I know we can do a lot by PDF and email, but I like to get original signatures to start, and thought it would be good to meet again in person.”
Eliza nodded. Vicky had already told her this by phone when she’d called to say she was ready to sign on the dotted line. Vicky had also told her what it would cost, and Eliza had a check in her purse. She hoped that the legal fees would be outweighed by her portion of Jack’s estate, but even if they weren’t, she couldn’t let Carol get away with this.
“So. After you called me the other day, I went ahead and got the probate documents that were filed with the court, along with your father’s will. Your stepmother didn’t name you as a beneficiary on the paperwork, but, as she told you, the will leaves one-third of his estate, excluding the house, to you.”
Eliza opened her mouth to squawk, but Vicky cut her off.
“I know. It’s bullshit. And the probate court should have caught the discrepancy. But welcome to my world.” She waved her hand around her small, crowded office. “It’s stuff like this that keeps me in these fabulous digs. Speaking of?—did you have trouble with the elevator?”
Eliza shook her head.
“Glad to hear it. They’ve been super wonky lately. I’d take the stairs if we weren’t on the seventh floor. Anyway. ‘What’s next, Vicky?’ That’s what you’re thinking, right?”
This time, Eliza nodded.
“So, I write up the order to show cause. We file it with the court, and a copy goes to your stepmother. Cheryl, right?”
Eliza sucked in her breath. “Carol.”
“Sorry, sorry. Don’t worry, I’ll get it right in the paperwork. Always do! Well, almost always, anyway. Ha! Kidding.”
It’s like watching a one-woman show. “How long will the process take?”
“Well, it won’t take me long at all to write it. After I file, we should get a relatively quick hearing date from the judge...” Vicky was making a note on a yellow legal pad.
Eliza’s pulse quickened. “I wanted to ask you about that. Does there have to be a hearing?”
Vicky put down her pen and looked at her. “Yes. Unless Carol folds right away. Which she could do. But I wouldn’t count on it. A woman who does this isn’t going to just back off, in my experience.”
Eliza wondered if her face was as white as it felt.
“Look. This is pretty routine stuff. One thing I need to know from you?—do you want to challenge her as executor? Or just limit the order to restoring you as a beneficiary? You could go either way.”
Eliza bit the inside of her lip. She wished she had someone with her to squeeze her hand. The image of Josh appeared to her, unbidden. She quickly switched him out for Mo. “I’m sorry. Can I get some water?”
“Sure, sure. Be right back.”
While Vicky was gone, she was tempted to put her head between her knees but didn’t think that would make a very good impression on her lawyer?—her lawyer! How had she become a person who had a lawyer? She had to at least seem like someone who would do well in court. So instead she attempted some deep, steadying breaths.
“Here you go.” Vicky handed her a bottle of water, and Eliza took it gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a long swallow.
“I know. This is tough stuff,” Vicky said, sitting back down at her desk. “Where were we? Oh, right?—are we challenging her as executor?”
Eliza swallowed. “I don’t think so. That’s what my dad wanted. And that’s what this is about?—restoring what he would have wanted.”
Vicky nodded. “Good, good. So I’ll get this done and keep you posted.”
“Thanks.” It occurred to her that she had probably said only a few dozen words since she’d arrived.
“I’ll walk you out.”
And then they were heading back down the scuffed linoleum-tiled floor of the hallway toward the reception area.
“Aren’t those flowers gorgeous?” Vicky exclaimed as they arrived.
“Gorgeous,” Eliza echoed faintly.
Vicky extended her hand, and Eliza shook it. “Hang in there. I’ll be in touch to let you know when I’ve filed the order.”
Eliza headed out in a daze and, a few minutes later, was back in the elevator. As the doors shut, she glanced at the time. The meeting hadn’t taken anywhere near as long as she’d hoped. Perhaps she could dawdle on her way to the subway. She was considering her options when there was a creaking noise and the elevator suddenly stopped moving.
She waited a moment for either the door to open at another floor or the downward motion to resume. Neither happened. Did people really get stuck in elevators? Somehow it seemed like something that only happened in movies when ninja-types clambered around and messed with the pulleys. How far up was she, anyway? In other words, how far would she plunge if she were to end up in free fall?
Stop it. This elevator had last been inspected earlier this year. At least that was what the photocopied form covered in plexiglass told her. She pressed the alarm button and immediately covered her ears as a shrieking noise started. Then, almost as quickly, the shrieking stopped and there was a disembodied voice asking her if there was a problem.
“Yes! I’m stuck in the elevator.”
“Hold, please.”
Hold, please? Where was she supposed to go?
A few minutes passed. Then the voice returned. “All right. We’ve got someone checking into it.”
Eliza set her bag on the floor and wondered if she should sit down. It didn’t look particularly clean, but who knew how long she’d be here. Oh, screw it. At least she was wearing black pants.
She pulled out her phone and texted Amber.
Hey Amber. Could you tell Vanessa I’m stuck in an elevator? Not sure when I’ll be in.
Rereading it, she couldn’t help thinking that it sounded like a “dog ate my homework” excuse. A few moments later she got Amber’s response.
Yikes! I’ve told her. How’s your tooth?
Oh, right. She was at “the dentist.”
It was just a checkup.
Well that’s good at least. Anyone in the elevator with you? What a great meet-cute!
I think it’s probably been done. And, no, I’m alone.
Bummer.
She tried to look on the bright side; maybe she’d end up missing the whole meeting, kicking the can down the road on her next interaction with Ross. And she had her phone, so she could scroll mindlessly through social media.
She was watching cute puppy videos and reconsidering what she’d told Aunt Claude?—that she couldn’t have a dog in the city?—when the Yorkie desperately trying to hop up onto a couch was interrupted by an incoming text. It was Josh.
Hey, E. Just wanted to give you a heads-up.
What, that you’re bringing a date to Friendsgiving?
I told my colleague in the school law practice about your gala. He and his group decided to buy a table!
Okay, why had her mind gone in that other direction?
That’s great! Thanks! she responded. Nice to get good news while I’m stuck in an elevator.
What?!? Where are you?
Your friend Vicky’s building in Brooklyn.
Are you ok? Are you alone?
Yes and yes. It’s actually quite peaceful here.
She looked at the faux-wood paneling and the honeycomb fluorescent lighting. Perhaps peaceful was a bit of an overstatement.
Are they working on getting it fixed?
No. I thought I’d just hide out here for a while. Yes, they’re working on it.
The three dots danced for a moment. Then:
So would you rather be stuck in an elevator for a day, or a sewer for an hour?
She laughed. She’d forgotten their endless games of Would You Rather. Would you rather fail all your classes and have to repeat a grade, or be in a coma for a year? Would you rather run naked down the school hallway, or give a speech in front of the whole student body in your underwear?
I’d take the elevator. At least it doesn’t smell in here.
Ok, what if your boss was in the elevator with you?
Ooh. Good question. Probably I’d pick the sewer then. Vanessa’s not a bad sort, but to have to make small talk with her for the whole day... How about you? Same choice.
Sewer. No question about it. (Insert joke about lawyers and sewer rats here.)
They lobbed a few other unpalatable choices at each other before Josh had to jump off to go to a meeting, and Eliza went back to her puppy videos. Finally, there was a creak and a lurch, and the elevator started moving again. She rose to her feet, brushing off her pants, and was standing ready when the doors finally opened, revealing the lobby. She expected an elevator mechanic or a building super or someone to be standing there, but no. Only the same bored security guard sitting at his usual post. She glanced again at the time and didn’t rush walking to the subway.