Chapter 7
The guard outside the vault had the most ridiculous scowl I’d ever seen on a young man. He seemed displeased to have us in his area, but we ignored him as we slid the safety deposit box from the shelf.
The first thing we noticed about the box when we set it down on the scratched mahogany table was the weight and rattle of it. It was heavy and obviously held some loose bits of metal or rocks inside. Rich placed the key into the lock and turned. The squeal of the cylinder told us it hadn’t been opened often. Once the lock disengaged, Rich pried open the lid and gasped when he saw what lay on top.
“Look at all this! Jesus, Becka. Where the hell did our parents get all this money? Did they rob a bank?” There had to be one, and maybe even two, hundred thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills stacked tightly inside.
I was speechless. Our parents lived such a simple life. This kind of money was never in the picture. Silence fell between us as we thumbed through the stacks. I tried to grasp how this could be. How could our parents hide this from us? Why? “Rich, I don’t understand. Did you have any idea?”
“No,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the cash. “You know how Silvy always felt about wealth. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Did Silvy draft a will? Maybe that would give us a clue,” I reasoned.
“She told me all her affairs were in order. She never once asked me for help. I didn’t think twice about it. She was so organized.”
“You’re kidding. She never said a word to me about it. I just assumed she talked with you about all that stuff.” I leaned back in the chair and held my hand to my mouth, feeling disconnected from my mother for the first time. I helped move the bound stacks of hundreds to the side of the table, curious as to what lay beneath. “Maybe, there’s a copy of a will in here.”
“Stock certificates, and deeds, and a bankbook are here, but there’s no will.” Rich thumbed through twenty-plus certified stock certificates, each with a different Fortune Five Hundred company name beside the thousand-share quantity. “Becka, these are worth a fortune. Where the hell did they get all this?”
The smell of money and old paper filled my nostrils. I’d never been in a room with this smell in my life. “Look at these. They’re all in a family trust. All of them!” I fanned through the deeds that showed Clemmons Family Trust typed in bold letters. Each property paid in full.
“What’s that?” I pointed below the stack of bearer bonds Rich was counting. “That box, there.”
Rich set the paper down and removed a small cardboard box labeled “Keys.” He rattled it before opening it, giving me the look of this-is-what-made-that-noise, and then he opened the top. Inside were at least a dozen bronze master keys, each labeled with a different local address. “These must go with those deeds.” He pulled the deeds closer to compare.
“719 Secure Lane, Hopkins,” the first one read. Rich matched it to the corresponding deed which read, Hopkins Homeless Shelter. We looked at each other in amazement and continued to match.
“27235 Atlantis Hwy, Muffin,” Rich said aloud, making the immediate connection between it and the current location of The Muffin-Stuff Bakery.
“Silvy and Dad owned the Muffin-Stuff building? Why would she keep this from us?” We moved on, having no idea why these were such secrets. The third, fourth, fifth through tenth keys were matched to various businesses and housing complexes in the Bay Area.
“Rich, I don’t understand. Why all the mystery? Why didn’t they just tell us they were worth a freaking fortune?” I shook my head in disbelief.
“Well, this is interesting.” He perused the deed matching the eleventh key. He flashed the first ornery grin I’d seen on his face in two weeks. “This says that Silvy and Daddy own the property at 819 Thornwall as well as the accompanying property at 821 Thornwall. Does that ring any bells for you?”
“819 Thornwall is The Health Nut’s address. 821 is—oh my God—they own that building? I can’t believe that! She played it off like nothing, pretending about the lease thing. I wonder why she did that.”
“She probably has a management company taking care of leasing the properties.”
“I knew they owned The Health Nut outright, but I thought that was a gift of some sort from Daddy’s parents.”
“That must be where all this came from,” Rich said. “I never realized Grandpa Jack was worth this much. Did you?”
“No, but you remember how Daddy always downplayed all that stuff. He acted embarrassed.”
“So,” I said, getting back to 821 Thornwall. “Silvy was the owner of the space when the bookstore was vying for the lease. She had the say whether or not they came in. That little sneak.”
“She probably leaves those kinds of decisions to a property management company. I can’t imagine she was the hands-on type.” He looked me over, knowing there was something important I wasn’t telling him.
“I have a feeling she got involved this time,” I said, feeling her matchmaking prowess even now.
“Did something happen I don’t know about?” He sat back in the chair and watched for a reaction.
“You could say that.” I looked up at his little smile. “Silvy sent Jonathan over to Hawaii to sabotage me. I guess she figured I’d fall head over heels for him if he approached me in paradise.”
“You’re kidding!” Rich laughed at Silvy’s tenacity. “She must really think you two belong together.”
“She didn’t know him like I do.” I started to shuffle the papers around, stacking them neatly into a pile, trying to maneuver away from the trap I’d set for myself.
“How do you know him, sister darling?” He caught my hands as I felt my face turn red. “In the biblical sense, I see.” If it hadn’t been at my personal expense, I’d have enjoyed this fun mood Rich was in.
“Biblical, yeah, that’s what it was.” I had to give Jonathan that much credit. I couldn’t have prayed for a man to be better than he’d been that night under the moonlit sky. It’d definitely been a spiritual experience.
“In Hawaii?”
“Yep. Hawaii.” I avoided his eyes, feeling embarrassment creeping in.
“Good?”
“Yep, really good.” I let out a long breath and wiped imaginary sweat from my brow.
“So, what’s the problem? Too good?” His eyes glowed with curiosity.
“Nope. Just the wrong girl.” I took the key to the last deed and read the business name on the title as Rich asked the inevitable.
“Wrong girl? What’s that mean?”
But, I was no longer listening. I handed him the last deed, disbelief swelling inside of me.
“We have a problem.” I pointed down at the legal document Rich held in his hand, poking my fingers into my ears in anticipation of a loud, angry outburst.
“Sullivan’s Plastics?” he yelled, bringing the guard off his wooden seat. “What the hell?”
~ ~ ~
After the strange discovery at the bank, Rich had dropped me off at home and disappeared, gearing up for another round of research. He was determined to learn more about our parents’ past now. When I got inside my quiet, darkened apartment I collapsed, not wanting to think about another thing. Of course, I spent the entire night thinking about everything.
The next morning, I walked to The Health Nut in a sleep-deprived haze. The sky was purple where the sun was about to dawn, and it was both beautiful and ominous at the same time. Lily’s empty rocking chair creaked eerily in the gentle morning breeze as I walked by.
It felt odd to make this walk to work. How was I ever going to get back into a normal daily routine? The working itself would be great therapy, but the initial stepping in was gonna hurt, and I knew it. The Health Nut had always been a family thing.
Now, I felt like I didn’t really know who my parents were, at least a part of them. Maybe The Health Nut hadn’t meant as much to them as I thought. Maybe Silvy kept it open for me. She certainly didn’t need the sparse money it brought in. I kept walking because it was the only thing I knew to do.
Candy had already started the coffees-of-the-day, laid out an assortment of fresh fruits, turned on the grill, and was in the process of juicing when I crossed the threshold. I stared up at Silvy’s beautiful butterfly painting on the wall. The one thing I knew for sure was that our parents truly loved us. There was no mystery in that. The message was in everything they did.
I felt Candy’s concerned eyes on me long before I found the courage to look in her direction. I’d stayed isolated from everyone’s grief and concern since my mother’s death, so facing them was going to be the hardest part about getting on with life.
“Becka, honey. I can take care of things here if you need some more time. I’ve had the Muffin-Stuff deliver some additional bread goods, and we have fruit.” She pointed to the case filled with dewy peaches, kiwis, plums, apricots, bananas, and a colorful assortment of tropical fruit. The mangoes and papayas reminded me of Hawaii and Jonathan.
“Candy.” My voice shook before I cleared my throat. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these past few weeks. Thank you.” I met her eyes with just a hint of wetness in mine, but hers filled rapidly.
She started to make her way over to me from the other side of the counter when I immediately sensed the danger of falling apart just as my morning regulars hit the door.
“Please,” I pleaded, “let’s just get ready for the morning.” I held my hand up and took a deep breath. She turned away and wiped her eyes, understanding my need to stay composed.
Searching the back shelves and freezer, I saw that nearly every supply had been depleted in my absence. Secretly, I’d hoped to find at least a tiny piece of Silvy’s delicious flourless chocolate cake left over, so I could savor it one last time. I wasn’t sure exactly how Candy had kept the place running, but she’d obviously been quite resourceful.
“I’ll get some baking done this afternoon,” I mumbled more to myself than to her.
“I’ve just been telling the customers we’re working with a limited menu. They’ve all been very understanding. As long as they can get that coffee fix.” She smiled her big, orange-lipstick smile, making me glad I’d come back to work.
“I can’t believe how well you’ve done by yourself. I have a hard time running this place alone, and I’ve done it for years.” I smiled back at her, bringing out some frozen pie dough to thaw for fruit tarts.
“Your friend Annie has been coming in almost every day to relieve me, working around her classes and such. She took some time off from the library to help.” Candy said while she finished juicing the oranges and threw the drained skins in the compost bin.
“Annie?” I asked, surprised. “I didn’t know she was coming here.” It was just another one of those reasons she was my best friend. She always knew how to ease my load when life got too heavy for me.
“She wanted to give you and your brother as much time as you needed. I guess her husband gave her a lot of shit over it, though.”
“He wouldn’t understand compassion if it knocked his teeth out.” I truly hated that man, I thought to myself, not wanting to add steam to Candy’s growing hate for men.
“You did have one particularly concerned customer asking after you while you were gone.” Her eyes found mine through the glass display case as she placed the clean flatware into the round containers at the condiment table.
“The young Mr. Parker has been in every day,” Candy continued. “Sometimes twice, trying to con your address out of us. He seems very concerned about you, Becka.”
She paused when the gasp escaped my mouth. “Thank you for not telling him. I appreciate your discretion.”
I turned away and headed back into the freezer. So, Mr. Parker came looking for me? Maybe his precious Rachel was still unavailable. Bitterness and jealousy are not desirable traits, I realized, but I couldn’t seem to shake them.
“Becka,” I heard filtering through the loud blow of the freezer motor. “Where are you?” Annie stood outside the door dressed in her finest pair of jeans and Harvard-Not sweatshirt, strapping Silvy’s apron around her small waist.
I couldn’t take my eyes off that apron. The words on the front burned regret deep into my heart.
“I hope you don’t mind. It’s my way of keeping her close.”
I could tell she was worried that I’d take offense at her wearing my mother’s favorite apron. “She’d be proud you’re wearing it.” I gave her a quick hug, pointing at the red words Will I Ever be a Grandma stitched into the worn, black cloth. “But, that doesn’t make much sense on you.”
“Hey?” She grabbed my hand before I could get away. “Are you sure you’re ready to be back here?”
“No, not really.”
“Then why don’t you take some more time? We’ve got things covered.”
“I’m not ready to be away from here, either. I’m not sure what I’m ready for. I just know I need to stay busy.” I squeezed her hand to reassure her. “Annie,” I said, swallowing hard. “Thank you, for everything.”
“No need to thank me. I loved her, too.” We parted quickly, knowing that tears were too near the surface.
Our first customer of the day, old George, sat in his usual spot talking intimately with Candy when I made my initial attempt at customer service. At first he was quiet, out of respect I suppose. When he finally asked if I was okay, I told him it’d take time.
Annie stayed a few hours before I booted her out to see to her own life. Her studies and her work had suffered. I was sure her husband felt the most neglected of all. For this, Annie had probably paid the highest price. I couldn’t live with that. I kissed her cheek and shooed her off, waving her away every time she turned back to protest.
By noon, I’d learned to plaster on my smile despite the huge, aching hole in my life. The absence of Silvy’s shining presence echoed off the walls of The Health Nut and bounced back at my heart like a poison dart. This place—this wonderful, fine place—would never be the same without my mother’s glowing spirit.
The ring of the angel bell stopped me from feeling sorry for myself almost as though Silvy herself had planned the timing. The instant I passed through the swinging door, I regretted not sending Candy instead. An exhausted looking Jonathan stared at me with such concern and sympathy, I nearly melted into the floor.
Before I moved away from him to the safety of the kitchen, he approached me and took me into his arms. He held me until I couldn’t breathe without crying, fighting at first with my hands against his shoulders until finally I gave in and held on for dear life.
I hadn’t meant to let the sympathy in his eyes take such control over my senses, but I couldn’t help myself. When I looked at him, it felt as though he was the one grieving, and I was trying to console him, instead of the other way around. If I didn’t know better, I’d say his heart was as broken as mine.
Whatever the case, once I realized what I was doing, I pushed him away like a burning pan against my tender skin. What the hell was I doing leaning on someone who’d hurt me like he had? He didn’t even really know my mother. Obviously, he didn’t want to know me, Becka, except as a fill-in for some sick, sexual fantasy.
“Why don’t you just leave me alone, Jonathan? I really can’t deal with you right now.” I turned from him and headed to the kitchen, hoping he’d go without taking note of my breaking down in his arms.
“You know I can’t do that. I need to explain what happened in Hawaii.” He followed me through the swinging door.
“It doesn’t matter now, Jonathan. I know I’m not who you really want, and I’m not willing to be a substitute for someone else. So please, just leave me alone.” I opened the walk-in freezer for the fourth time today, trying to escape yet another situation. I realized the mistake of closing myself into an inescapable, small space a second too late.
“Yes, you are the woman I want! You are Rachel! Don’t you know that by now?” His eyes pierced through the chilled fog of the freezer.
“Please stop it! I’ve just lost my mother.” A single tear started to freeze on my cheek. “I can’t deal with this right now.” I pushed past him and exited the freezer, heading out the back door and down the alley, unwilling to grasp what he was trying to tell me.
“Becka,” he cried out from behind me, his voice fading with each of my steps. “I’ll leave you alone for now. I’ll respect your need to grieve in private, but soon you’re gonna have to face the fact that I’m in your life to stay.”
He didn’t follow, which made me sad and thankful at the same time.
~ ~ ~
The hollow beep of the answering machine echoed in my quiet apartment when I came through the door running, the number four glaring in bright red letters told me I was more popular today than I’d been in ages. I hit the button as I passed by, heading to the refrigerator for the last Mountain Dew.
“Becka Marie, honey, this is Barbara and Mel. I’m so sorry we haven’t been there for you kids.” Her voice broke into sobs. “I’m sure Annie told you we’ve been out of reach. We’re finally back in town, and we want to take you and Rich to dinner. Call us as soon as you get in. We’re worried about you. God, sweetheart, I can’t believe she’s gone.” Silvy’s best friend in the world was worried about us. This one was going to be tough. I took a long swallow of the sweet liquid as I waited for the next message.
“Becka honey, I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you where we are,” Barbara said in a frazzled voice. “We’re at the RV Park on Route 65, Sweetheart. We thought about Rosa’s for dinner. What do you think? Call us. Our cell number is (555)656-2347.” This time I heard Mel mumbling in the background, giving her direction as usual.
Rosa’s? Great. Do these people not realize what pizza does to my system? “They should know,” I said out loud, straining to hear the next message.
The third message was nothing more than a song playing in the background for a good minute before whoever it was decided to hang up. I didn’t recognize the song, but it sounded like big band instruments playing something real bluesy. It was creepy.
The last message was from Rich, sounding like he’d slept even less than I had. “Beck, I’ll pick you up at four.” That was it? No good bye, no nothing else. Just that. He was frugal with words when he was running on overdrive.
It was 3:30 p.m. by the time I showered, straightened the place a little, and attempted what I hadn’t for days and days. I tried to apply makeup to my red, swollen face. I looked awful. Before work this morning, I’d brushed my teeth and threw clothes on my back, but that was it.
The sharp prick of the eyeliner felt like tiny needles stabbing my puffy eyelids, so I decided a swipe of brown shadow would have to do. Mascara was out of the question, so I curled my lashes, dotted my cheeks with an earth-tone blush and spread a thin layer of bronze-satin gloss over my down-turned lips. Better, I thought to myself, but still not good.
My hair was another story altogether. I hung my head down in front of me and ran a brush through the twisted curls. I realized I was pulling out knots when a thin layer of broken strands formed on the tile floor below me. I looked like the Bride of Frankenstein when I tossed my head back and looked in the mirror. “Oh Jesus,” I whispered. “This is gonna take some work.” Smoothing oil calmed the frizz to soft rounded curls. Once I pulled it away from my face with a butterfly clip and twisted a few strands in front of my ears, it didn’t look half bad.
I wore the garnet teardrop earrings my parents gave me for graduation with a long-sleeved, burgundy silk blouse untucked over my newest pair of khakis. I slipped into my nicest leather sandals, and called it good. Good enough to appease Barbara, anyway.
I heard the familiar honk of my brother’s Volkswagen just as I threw my empty Mountain Dew can into the recycle bin. He laid on the horn again as I opened the door. When I gave him a look, he shrugged his shoulders and waved for me to hurry up.
“Mel and Barbara called here. They want to take us to dinner.” I piled into the car, nearly falling into the seat.
“I know, I talked to Barbara. We’re meeting them at Rosa’s at six.” He ground the Bug into gear and headed the opposite direction from Rosa’s—no explanation forthcoming as to where or what we were doing.
He didn’t speak until we’d parked across the street from the Sullivan’s Plastics factory.
“I haven’t figured this out yet,” he said, finally looking at me. He looked so tired. He was unshaven, and his hair, what was left of it, was in more of a mess than he usually allowed.
“I can’t believe our parents would be part of a business that poisons its own employees.” He watched the thick gray and white soot billow into the air from two giant smoke stacks.
I took his hand in mine, holding it until he looked at me again. “There’s got to be an explanation for this, Rich. Daddy and Silvy wouldn’t be a part of something like this. I know that in my heart.”
He shook his head, clearly troubled. “Why the key? And the deed? They own the place outright, Becka. I checked it out!”
“Well, they obviously didn't have anything to do with the production side. Who runs it? Did you find that out?”
“The Sullivan family still has the actual business license. They must’ve leased the building from Silvy. I just don’t understand how she got it from them in the first place. Sullivan’s has been at that location forever. I thought it was a family-owned business?” Rich shook his head. “It still makes no sense why our parents would let it continue to operate when they were so against the whole pollution thing.”
“No,” I said, stepping out of the car to get a better look, “it sure doesn’t make any sense.”
We stayed there watching trucks come in and out of the plant, smelling the fumes from the cloud forming above and trying desperately to understand how the hell our parents could let this carry on when they seemingly had the power to stop it.
~ ~ ~
Annie met us outside in the parking lot at Rosa’s. From the look on her face I knew her parents were devastated over Silvy’s death.
“You guys,” she said, stopping us before heading into the door. “Prepare yourself, for Mom especially. They’re both pretty bad.” She held the door open for us to go in.
The first person I saw sitting at the table was the last person on earth I wanted to deal with tonight. Steven, Annie’s husband, sat drinking beer, as Mel and Barbara took Rich and me, each in turn, into their embrace.
“I thought meeting out like this would keep me from doing this,” Barbara cried in my ear. “But, I was wrong. How are you, honey?” Tears swept down her aging skin and dripped off the first of her double chins.
Barbara Constantine had been a beautiful younger woman, but years of sun worship had taken its toll. Silvy had always worn the floppy hat with the uncool sunscreen while Barbara opted for the cooking oil and the sunglasses. Everyone always thought Barbara was a good ten or fifteen years older than my mother.
Mel, now slightly paunchy around the middle and balding from the center, pulled Barbara away, giving me some room to breathe. I appreciated it. “I’m sorry, Becka,” he said. “She’s been a mess since we heard.” He took me then and gave me the kind of hug my father used to give me. His thick, strong arms around me felt nice and safe.
Rich stayed close by me for the duration of the dinner, not wanting me to get too upset, I was sure. I hated crying in front of people, especially Steven. This gathering was for the people who most loved my mother. He had no business here at all.
“So, Becka?” Steven asked, shocking me. “You guys inherit anything good?”
Rich pushed back his chair with a loud scoot and loomed ominously over the table in Steven’s direction. The fire in his eyes was enough for Steven to shrink back in his chair and look away. Annie nearly choked on her bite of pizza, regret evident in her eyes. I held Rich’s arm and coaxed him back down. “Ignore him,” I whispered into my brother’s ear. “For Annie’s sake.”
“I should kick his ass, for Annie’s sake,” Rich growled, looking in turn at Mel and Barbara. “I can’t believe you guys just let him sit here like he deserves to be here.” Rich’s face was red with anger, his temper inherited directly from our Grandpa Jack.
Barbara and Mel sat at the far end of the table, unable to hear the entire conversation. They seemed embarrassed that hurtful words had been passed, but they were reluctant to say anything. They didn’t understand why Rich and I held such contempt for darling Steven, but Annie knew exactly why. She begged us with her eyes to let this moment pass.
“Becka.” Mel caught my attention. “I’m not sure if your mother ever told you, but she asked me and Barbara to be the executors of her will. She wanted us to be the ones to pass on this information to you both in case something happened to her.” He said this in such a way that made it sound like Silvy almost anticipated something bad would happen to her.
“Why wouldn’t she make one of us the executor? I don’t understand all this secretive stuff. Do you guys know what’s going on?” I asked, giving no specifics with Steven at the table.
“They had their reasons for keeping you kids away from certain things. We’ll talk about that later. Let’s just enjoy our pizza,” Mel said, indicating with body language that this conversation was to be private.
Rich started to ask a question when I grabbed his knee under the table.
“Annie,” Rich said, changing the subject, “I met the nicest man the other day. He’d be perfect for you. You want me to introduce you to him?” Everyone at the table tensed. I couldn’t hold in my nervous giggle. It was just too funny to see the look on Steven’s face at Rich’s blatant provocation.
Annie shook her head no, her eyes wide with fear.
“Why don’t you take him?” Steven said to Rich in a deep sarcastic voice. “He’s probably more your type, anyway.”
“Actually, Steven, he’s probably more your type,” Rich dared Steven to challenge him. “Isn’t that right?”
Steven stood abruptly, swatting Annie’s hands away when she tried to stop him. “Just what the fuck does that mean, queer boy?”
“Rich, don’t!” I begged as he started to get up again. I was confused by his comment. Watching Annie and her parents, I knew they were confused as well.
“You better listen to your sister there, sweet pants. She knows what’s best for you.” Steven sat back down, flexing his muscles like he’d won some sort of victory.
Before I smashed my own beer bottle over the idiot’s head, Mel got up and rounded the table, pushing Steven further into his chair. “You better just stay there, son. We’re all a little upset here tonight. Silvy deserves better than this kind of pissing contest.” Both Steven and Rich refrained from speaking, Rich out of respect for our mother, and Steven because he was afraid to blow his cover with his in-laws.
Annie breathed out as her father patted her on the shoulder, reassuring her that he wouldn’t let anything happen.
~ ~ ~
An hour later the four of us sat together. Mel, Barbara, Rich and I circled around Silvy’s dining room table, her twenty-page will in front of us. Mel pulled the papers back as Rich tried to take them into his hands. “Wait just a minute,” Mel said. “We need to talk to the two of you before you read this will. It’s important you understand a few things to make any kind of sense out of your mother’s last wishes.” He folded the will in half and leaned his elbow on it. Barbara nodded for him to continue.
“Your mother and father were good, loving people,” Mel began, looking a little uncomfortable. “You both know that. You know they valued family above all else, especially you kids.”
We nodded to him, our attention completely focused.
“Well, things got a little complicated for Silvy and Tom when his father, your Grandpa Jack, died. They found out he was worth a whole lot more money than he ever let on. Your grandma had been gone for some years by then, so all that money and what went along with it, was inherited by your folks.”
“But—” I started to ask a question, and then decided against it. “Go ahead. I’m sorry.” I waved my hand for him to continue.
“Jack Clemmons, your grandpa, arrived in this area when property was cheap and easy to acquire. It seems he did just that every time he got a chance.”
Barbara excused herself when the tea kettle whistled.
Mel paused, shifting in his seat, and thought for a moment how best to choose his next words. “Your grandpa never had a fancy job that paid him lots of money, but he did have a knack for investing. After he acquired a certain amount of profitable properties, he didn’t have to work at all. That’s when he built the cabin and started spending all his time up there fishing and making those birdhouses he loved so much. He was probably only about fifty or so when he moved up there.”
Rich looked at me with frustration in his eyes. Mel’s story was moving way too slowly for his taste, I could tell.
“Jack was a good man, a good friend to a lot of start-up businesses in the area. Once he got himself into a healthy position financially, he did what he could to help people out. That’s where he got himself into trouble.”
Now, I thought to myself, we’re getting somewhere.
Barbara brought a tray of fresh-brewed green tea in Silvy’s porcelain cups and set one in front of each of us—Mel a little perturbed at the time she took doing so. His hands shook as he continued the story.
“Jack was approached by an old college friend to help him out of a jam. His name was Grant Sullivan, of none other than Sullivan’s Plastics. It seems that Grant had made a few really bad investments and needed some capital to keep the business running, so Jack bought the property from him. Then he leased it back to Sullivan for real cheap to help him out. Your grandfather never wanted to run that business. He left all that to Grant.”
A glimmer of understanding crossed Rich’s face. He was starting to put things together.
“So, when your grandpa died, he left all this money and these businesses to your mom and dad, who had no idea they even existed or how they were going to manage them. They, like Jack, weren’t interested in living the fancy life. They just wanted to live humbly with you kids and The Health Nut as their income. So, they decided to cut the rent or forego the rent altogether on many of the properties they owned to help some people out. The homeless shelter pays nothing. The bakery shares some of their goods as payment. The only property that still pays full lease payments is Sullivan’s. That was the only property agreement your Grandpa didn’t want altered.” Mel stopped now, taking a long sip of tea to wet his throat.
“Why didn’t they just sell the property?” I asked, finally getting in a word.
“It wasn’t that simple. Your grandfather strictly forbade the sale of the Sullivan property to anyone, but the Sullivan family. He had a gentleman’s agreement with Grant Sullivan. Your grandpa was a man of honor, and your father respected his wishes.” Mel took a deep breath and looked each of us in the eye before continuing. “Things changed once your father died. Silvy didn’t want any part in polluting, gentleman’s agreement or not. You know how she felt about preserving the environment.”
“Silvy wanted to sell it?”
“No,” he looked straight into my eyes. “She wanted to close it down!”
“Now, that sounds like our mom,” Rich piped in. “It’s been two years since Dad died. What’s been happening?”
“Well, the Sullivans didn’t want it closed down for obvious reasons. They offered to buy it back, but she refused. Your mom was gathering information to close the factory down even up to the day—” He stopped again, looking at his wife with concern. She dismissed herself from the table, wiping tears from her eyes, heading away to the safety of Silvy’s bedroom, “—the day she died,” Mel finished.
I shook my head in confusion. “What’s in her will?” I asked, fighting the impulse to follow Barbara’s fleeting footsteps. “Did she want us to carry on where she left off?”
“I’ll let the two of you go over this alone. I just wanted you to understand how all this came to be in your mother’s hands and why she asks you to do the things she does in this will.” He handed the folded papers to my brother, who took them to Silvy’s chair to read over.
I moved down the hall to where Barbara sat crying at the edge of Silvy’s bed.
“I’ll take care of packing her things away, if you don’t mind?” Sobs filled Barbara’s voice. “Maybe, it’ll help me.” There was no one else in the world I trusted more with the task of taking care of my mother’s things. Silvy and Barbara were like Annie and me. I knew I’d want Annie to do the same for me.
“Rich and I will go through the house and take what we want tomorrow. You can have the rest to do with as you wish. I know she’d want you to have some special things that only you will be able to pick out.” I kissed her on the cheek and rocked her in my arms, thanking her with my heart for taking care of things and for loving my mother so much.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” she sniffled.
“She’ll always be with us, Barbara. Always.”
~ ~ ~
Silvy’s memorial service was held on a dewy Sunday morning at Brooke’s Park. We chose that location because it was a favorite of our parents and because it was the place we’d find Silvy when she’d go missing for a couple of hours.
She told us once those beautiful grassy knolls curving toward the ocean gave her the perfect forum to speak directly to Daddy without any interference. That was Silvy.
Barbara and Mel took care of inviting all those who cared about Silvy to the simple service. Rich and I were amazed to see the hundred plus people moving over the grounds to the tiny altar we’d erected. In the center of a growing pile of fresh cut flowers stood Silvy’s favorite dress-up Christmas picture and a sweet photo of her and Daddy holding hands on the pier.
It was a quiet, introspective ceremony with friends sharing fun, touching Silvy stories, each saying good bye to her in their own way. Annie’s story about Silvy catching us at the condemned skating rink was by far the funniest and the one that made me cry the hardest.
Silvy never believed in the hypocrisy of most formal religions, yet she was the most spiritual person I’d ever known. She and Daddy taught us to embrace the spirituality of nature and each other and honor those feelings above all. We’d never been to an actual church in our lives except when Annie got married.
We did, however, get dragged to this park every Sunday to sit quietly and listen to the wind blow and the ocean crash on the rocks below. Listen for the song of life, Silvy always said. It was tough for two kids to be silent for even five minutes, much less the thirty that she required before we were allowed to romp and play on the beach. I didn’t think I was getting anything out of those silent moments back then, but I felt it now.
There were at least a dozen people I’d never seen before. Barbara told us who some of them were, but others, she didn’t even recognize. Most had the same sixties rebel look about them as Silvy, but some looked so out of place, I turned my eyes when they looked my way.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized Rich was the only family I had left. Our grandparents on both sides were gone. Silvy’s brother died in Vietnam, and Daddy was an only child. We had great-aunts and uncles, and probably distant cousins somewhere in the world, but they ostracized our parents years ago when Tom and Silvy lost themselves to the whole anti-war, free-love movement. Rich and I were alone, but somehow it didn’t feel that way.
George and Candy were there next to Annie and her parents, close together in their show of grief. I nudged Rich to look when I noticed George placing his hand on Candy’s back as her heels sunk into the wet ground. I thought it a beautiful, gentlemanly thing to do, something I’d never really thought George capable of.
In the distance I saw Jonathan sitting alone on a rock, his knees pulled tight to his chest, his arms wrapped around to keep them in place, and his sandy-brown hair blowing in the breeze. He was watching me, but he was so far away I couldn’t make out his expression. I guessed that was his way of respecting my wishes for him to stay away, but still being near enough in case I changed my mind. He seemed tired and sad from the slump of his shoulders and the occasional hang of his head.
Again, I found myself wanting to hold him. It was a bewitching thing he had over me, whatever it was. I ached to have him near me now, to hold me until this hurt went away, but then I remembered. I remembered the devastating pain he’d caused, and my face and body went rigid. I looked away from him when more people came to pay their respects. He was gone when I looked up again.
The group from Silvy’s yoga class huddled together in their own special prayer, then took turns hugging Rich and me with overlong sincerity in each embrace. These were Silvy’s real people. Aside from the Constantines and my brother and me, these were the people who knew her best. I could tell they truly loved her.
Mourners passed by Silvy’s picture, some kissing it, some simply brushing it with their fingers. A couple even raised a flower to the heavens to salute her. It was Barbara who first stripped the petals from a deep red rose and threw them to the wind. After she set this symbolic example, nearly everyone that followed did the same. When we finally said good bye, the green dewy ground was littered with a carpet of petals.
Rich and I led the way out of the park. I looked back once to see Mel carefully tucking Silvy’s and our father’s pictures under his arm. He cradled a crying Barbara under the other. Annie bent down and scooped up a handful of petals and placed them carefully in her upturned hat. I prayed she’d learn to value her life more after losing Silvy. I prayed she’d leave Steven.