Where there's a wedding, there has to be a will.

After assuring me that “they probably won’t get married,” Ed sat down at the kitchen table and worked out the dynamics of the situation.

“Allison is down one grandmother and we are up one.  The grandfathers stay the same.  Allison will inherit from my dad and mom and Kate and Tony's parents.  We’ll inherit from Dad and Mom and Kate and your dad and Missy.  Missy would inherit when he dies.   Her kids could get everything, unless he makes some provisions.”

“But that’s just if my father goes first.”

"If Missy dies first, your father would get everything.  But when he goes, it will be us and Mike and Rachael.   Allison is out of the loop with your dad’s money, of course.  But then, she has her in-laws."

I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation.  And I couldn’t believe what I said next.

“Maybe Allison will be so nasty that your mother and Kate will cut her out of their wills.”

“Allison would probably sue.”

I imagined headlines, “Court Battle Over Damned Gay Grandma’s Will,” with a retelling of the whole story of Cilla’s aborted conversion to Catholicism.  But that wouldn’t be for years and years.

Unfortunately, Cilla had been standing outside the door and she started to cry.  “I don’t want Grandma to die!”

“She’s not going to die, at least not for a long time.”

“But she will, one day.”

“Well, yes . . .”

“And we’ll all die one day.  You and Daddy and Grandpa Jack and Grandpa Doug and Grandma Kate and Betsey and Josh and me.”  She started crying again.  Then she got mad.  “Why do people have to die?  Betsey was right.  I don’t like God.”

I thought of Woody Allen in Hannah and Her Sisters and started to feel some twinges myself.  Wasn’t Cilla a little young for this?  But at least she had the certainty of Heaven.  The Unitarians said that no one knew anything about what happened when you died and you got the impression that the adults didn’t think there was anything.  My friends and I agreed that they were wrong, which was fine with them because everyone is entitled to his or her opinion.

“But, just think, we’ll all be together in Heaven.  You get to be with your whole family, even those you never met.”

Ed muttered something that sounded like, “But where do you go if you’ve been good?”  I kicked him under the table.

I reminded Cilla that you never have to go to bed in Heaven and that she could meet the Blessed Virgin Mother.

“Mommy can bake cookies with her.”  Ed was on a roll again.  “Or maybe with Joan of Arc.”  Fortunately that went over Cilla’s head.  “Or we could have a barbecue with her.”

Cilla wanted to know what kind of cookies they had in Heaven.  “Any kind you want.”  Then, fortunately, it was time for her to go to bed.

Ed remarked that we were proof that couples started turning into each other, except why was he talking about things that would probably never happen as if they would when I still didn’t like baseball?

I woke up in the middle of the night, remembering that we had forgotten something.

What about DeeDee?

 

Memories Monday -- No Cocktails, but the Elephant's Here

Funerals always make me think of the King and the Duke in Huckleberry Finn and the Duke’s talk about “funeral orgies.”  (He meant “obsequies.”)  I’ve found that it’s better to think of that before the obsequies than in the middle of them.

I didn’t know whether to go to the viewing or the funeral.  To go to both seems ghoulish.  And it might make people wonder why I was so interested.  I decided to just do the viewing.  That way it wouldn’t look like I was trying to get out of work.  And since it’s at night, it will save vacation time.

The viewing was actually “calling hours,” since the casket was closed.  I think Margaret would have wanted a closed casket no matter what; she would go into a toilet stall if she had to lift her skirt to pull her blouse down.

People were standing in clusters, presumably with their own groups – church friends, relatives with their particular family branches, old grade school and high school friends.  People would start to smile and then remember where they were.  It looked like a cocktail party gone bad, without the cocktails, of course. 

I joined some of my friends from the library.  We didn’t have much to say that was suitable for a viewing; it would be tacky to discuss suspects and motives.

So we commented on the flowers.  They were very nice, lovely, and beautiful.  “Did you go up yet?” someone asked me.  I hadn’t, so I did.  When I introduced myself to Margaret’s sister, she knew me.  “Peggy talked about you a lot, both of you being into books and all.”  Peggy!  The fact that Margaret had a nickname seemed even more surprising than that she’d been murdered. 

Margaret’s brother-in-law and nephews stood bravely receiving condolences and her pre-teen niece hung by her mother, clutching a cloth handkerchief printed with hearts.  I wondered if they’d had to run out and get suitable clothes for the children, the way we did when my mother died.  (The girls didn’t have dresses that fit and Josh didn’t own a tie.  He’s probably lost that one by now.) 

My group was going out for coffee, but I had promised the kids to tell them all about the viewing.  Before I left, I looked around to see if anyone looked suspicious.  No luck.  I wonder if anyone was looking at me and if I passed. 

The three of them were waiting for me.  I could barely get my coat off.  I made us all cocoa and it was really quite cozy, almost like talking over a party or wedding.  I told them about the closed casket (a disappointment) and the lack of suspects (another bummer).  Josh wanted to know if there’d been any police there.  I hadn’t thought to look.   

Ed wandered in and grabbed some marshmallows.  “Don’t worry, guys.  Mommy will have much more to tell after they question her.  That is, if they let her come home.”

I gave him a Look and Betsey and Josh said, “Oh, Daddy.”  Cilla threw her arms around my neck.  It took fifteen minutes to convince her that Ed was kidding. 

Aftershocks

Karen and Nikki were delighted to hear about my father and Missy.  Well, they aren’t the ones with a disgruntled sister-in-law and a father who’s in love.

“I knew it when I heard them talking at the wedding!”  Karen was triumphant.  “She probably set out to get him then.”

“No, she just wanted to make up with Janet.”

“That’s what she told him.  Of course, he was a sitting duck.  Damsel in distress, estranged from her best friend with a husband who fools around.”

“What did you say when he told you?”   Nikki asked.

“That’s the thing of it.  He hasn’t.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

“What should I say?  ‘Well, I hear you’re getting it on with my husband’s stepmother?’”  Everyone seems to lose their name in these situations and is spoken of by the way they are related to someone else.

Nikki doesn’t like loose ends.  “Do you want me to call him?”

This was getting to be like junior high except it involved my father.   “No, he might think you’re after him.”

“No offense, Charlie, but ew.”

I guess Karen was afraid my feelings would be hurt, because she quickly added, “Though he’s not bad for an old guy.”

“That’s right,” Nikki jumped in loyally.  “He’s even kind of cute for an old guy.  Distinguished.”

My father had never discussed love and marriage with me.  Neither had my mother, actually.  The main ideas I got from them was “Don’t get carried away with your social life and neglect your schollwork” and  “Even if you get married, you can always go to school.”

I didn’t need to tell Janet and Kate because, as Janet told me later, Allison had called and yelled at both of them on the speaker phone.  Naturally, Kate had gone all therapist on her and Janet had gotten mad at Kate for not yelling back and defending her.  Then Kate got therapist with her.  Kate finally calmed Allison down by pointing out that now her inheritance from her father wouldn’t have to be shared with Missy and her kids.

“When Kate asked me how I felt about all this, I said the bastard had it coming and I hoped he was miserable.”

“What did she say?” I asked.

“She said, ‘Why don’t we have a nice cup of tea?’   I said, ‘I need a drink.” And she said, ‘If you think you need a drink, you shouldn’t have one,’ but I just laughed.  You gotta love her.  So we went out for Chinese.”

Kate wasn’t the only one thinking of inheritances.

Ed is huffy because now if my father marries Missy, we’ll lose money.  I hadn’t thought of that. 

Memories Monday -- A Break in the Case

There has been, as they say in the classic detective movies, a break in the case.

The police have released the information that Margaret had let the killer into her house.  So she had to have known him or her.  I can’t imagine her opening the door for someone she didn’t know.  I can’t imagine anyone going to Margaret’s house without being invited or at least calling first.

I can imagine what her house was like.  Victorian and very neat.  She could put something down somewhere and have it be there when she wanted it.  I can’t imagine what that’s like.

The news came as a relief to everyone.  Margaret had done something.  But no one at the library could imagine what.  Margaret didn’t seem to have any personal life.  She was like a character in one of those depressing “realistic” spy movies.  But then, like a spy, she had a hidden life.  Could she have been a spy?  Was she having an affair?  Was she blackmailing someone? 
 
Karen thinks she was having an affair.

My friend Nicole thinks there’s money behind it. 

I don’t know.  I guess everyone who knew her is a suspect, so that includes me.

Since I didn’t do it, that’s kind of exciting.

Ed thinks that’s crazy, but as I told him, craziness is part of my charm.  He grunted.

The police came and took all of Margaret’s stuff for evidence.   She had some library books and they took them too.  They’ll probably run up a big fine.  I mentioned it at dinner, and Ed said, “You think of the damnedest things.”

Josh and Cilla both squealed, “Daddy said ‘Damn!’”  I’m glad they got a charge out of it.

Betsey put on her mildly-amused-but-exasperated look. 

I said, “Maybe you can write a book, My Wife Says the Darnedest Things.”
Josh and Cilla looked disappointed.

Betsey rolled her eyes.  “Maybe you could write a blog, Dad.”

“Or you could,” I said.  She didn’t know what to say to that.

“Well, the library could bill the estate.”  Ed said.  “Anyway, they can’t charge more than the price of the book, so it won’t hurt the inheritance.”   He was only half joking; he is an accountant.

I thought of the future crime buffs taking books out of the library and wondering if Margaret had ever read or even touched them. 

Maybe I do think of the damnedest things, but how can I tell?
 

Reflections on Relief

I don’t know why, but the kids always seem to be the most philosophical in the car.  I was driving Cilla and Veronica to Girls Scouts when I heard Veronica say, “You ask her.”  I held my breath, but Cilla just giggled.  Finally my curiosity got the best of me.  “What did you want to ask me?”

“Well, I was going to ask Grandma Kate, but maybe you know.  Did the Blessed Virgin Mother go the bathroom?”  Then she and Veronica giggled again.

“Of course, she did.  Everybody does.”

Veronica piped up, “My sister says nuns don’t go to the bathroom.  And the Blessed Virgin Mother is holier than nuns.”

Cilla didn’t agree with that.  “But they weren’t always nuns.  So they had to do it before they became nuns.”

Veronica thought about it.  “But the Blessed Virgin mother was holy before she had Jesus.  So she would have never had to.”

I had to say something, if only from a parent’s point of view.  “But if a baby or child never went to the bathroom, her mother would have been very worried and taken her to the doctor.  And when it didn’t make her sick, it would have been a miracle and would have turned up in the Bible.” 

I could see Cilla shaking her head in the mirror.  “They might not have put it in the Bible because it wasn’t nice talk.”

I really don’t think the Gospel writers were that squeamish, but I didn’t have the energy or the theological training to go there.  So I changed the subject.  “What about Jesus?  Did he go to the bathroom?”

“Oh, sure.  He was a boy.”  Even being the Son of God wouldn’t stop boys from going to the bathroom.  They enjoy it too much.

“But what about God?”  Veronica asked.

“Well, God’s a boy.”  Fortunately, we were at meeting.  I could see where this was going, so I was really relieved.

Since I hadn’t become a Christian until I was in college, I had never wondered about that.  But I’m still on the fence about Jackie Kennedy.

Memories Monday -- Later that day . . .

By lunch we had loosened up, like people standing outside a funeral home during a viewing “for some fresh air.”   We talked about our last conversation with Margaret or marveled that we couldn’t remember when we had it.  “You just never know, do you?”  I have to admit I almost felt proud that I’d actually known Margaret.

Other things discussed:

The viewing:  Would there be one?  What would there be to view?

What we wanted done with us when we die:  The usual “just stick me in a garbage bag and put me on the curb” won.  Runner up was “shove me in the freezer” (with a nervous laugh).  No one wanted an open casket.  I want a nice Episcopal service with my favorite hymns and scriptures.

Whether there would be more break-ins that would go bad and whether we should get security systems or would signs that said we had security systems be just as good?  The consensus was that Margaret had left her door unlocked, which we never do.  So we’re all safe.

Your Father, My Father and That Woman

When Missy and Janet became friends again, I thought we were going to be an even bigger happy family.  Ed was not particularly pleased.

He said that his mother and Missy had been Leftist-Hippy Lucy and Ethel in their day, getting together and carrying on and dragging him and Allison and Missy’s kids to protest marches and peace vigils.  “It’s a miracle we didn’t get lung cancer from all the secondhand pot smoke.  And the music!  Dear God, the music!  How many roads can a man walk down before they call him a man?  Solidarity forever!  I caught my mother singing that to Betsey when she was a baby.  I made her switch to “Jesus Loves Me”.  We’d come home from school and all there would be in the house was about three M & M’s.   We had to eat apples for snacks!”  Ed was on a roll.

I had to admit I didn’t have those problems, since my grandmother was always bringing cookies over to my house because I was a poor little thing with whose mother didn’t bake and my mother played special children’s classical music for me.

I thought Allison would be delighted, since she wanted everyone to be “healed”.  So I was surprised, to say the least, when I got a call from her. 

Without even saying hello, she said, “Well, I hope you’re happy.”

I didn’t know what she was referring to.  “I’m usually happy, yes.”

“Well, it’s good someone is because my father’s heart is broken.  Though I suppose your father and that woman are delirious.”

“What woman?”

“Your husband’s and my stepmother.  She’ll probably be your stepmother soon, until she gets tired of your father.”

It seemed as if Allison had forgotten everyone’s name.  But as far as I could make out, Missy had left Doug for my father.

“I suppose my mother and Pastor Parker were in on it, too.”

I guess she couldn’t think of a designation for Kate.  “Janet and Mother Parker had nothing to do with it.  People fall in love.  And as a matter of fact” (I knew that wasn’t nice, but it was true)”what started this whole thing off was your suggesting we invite your father to the wedding.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if I’d known what your father was capable of.”

“Do you want to talk to Ed?”  Ed had disappeared, but Cilla was sitting on the sofa, being very quiet so she wouldn’t miss anything.  She has a sixth sense when it comes to finding drama.

“You know he’s useless with this stuff.” 

Well, at least we could agree about that.                     

I haven’t heard from my father.  I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to call him.  I’m not up to it right now.

I just hope that Missy won’t mind staying with the kids on Christmas Eve.

Memories Monday -- Holy Homicide!

 It feels strange to be sitting at my desk, next to Margaret’s.   I can’t really concentrate.  Maybe if I write about it will help.

Yesterday, Church was buzzing with the murder.  They had Margaret in the prayers for the dead.  And a sermon about how horrible violence is.   I  feel terrible about Margaret and her family.   But it still doesn’t seem real. 

The general feeling was that it was a break-in gone bad,  which makes us all nervous.   I was the Queen of Coffee Hour once word got around that I’d known Margaret.  But I didn’t have much to offer except that even after all those years I didn’t have much to offer.

The cupcakes were a big hit.
 

I wondered what the library would be like today.  Would everyone be as excited as my fellow worshippers had been or would we be quiet, huddling together like a bereaved family?

Everyone came in quite soberly and sat down at their desks without the usual good morning banter.  Every once in a while someone would walk past Margaret’s desk, look at her chair, and then hurry on.  I wondered if they were thinking that they ought to say something to me, as if I had a special claim on Margaret since I sat next to her.  “Sorry, Charlie.”  When I thought of that, I started giggling.  Ever since those tuna commercials people have been saying “Sorry, Charlie” to me.  Unfortunately, Bill Cleveland, the head librarian, was walking by my desk at the time.  I must have looked guilty, because he patted me on the shoulder and said, “Everyone grieves differently, Charlie.”

I just nodded.

Kate Promotes Healing

Kate invited Missy to the Rectory for lunch with lots of wine and a butter cake (Janet’s favorite) for dessert.  She also put out M & M’s, since Janet had told her that she had kept them around the house in lieu of baking cookies for the children and she and Missy used to eat them with their coffee.  Janet told me that Missy had “gotten a snootful” and cried when she saw the M & M’s, to which Kate added, “And she wasn’t the only one.”

I asked what Doug thought of all this and Janet said Missy told her that he had other interests.  “If you know what I mean.”

I said, “Do you mean sports?”

“No, Charlie.  The same interests he had when we were married.”  She looked at Kate.  “You see, I’m not in denial.”

Kate shook her head.  “I don’t know how she gets along in the world.”  She whispered in my ear, as if she thought I’d be embarrassed, “He fools around.”

“Well, what can she expect?”  I said.  “If they fool around with you, they’ll fool around on you.”
For some reason they both looked surprised.

“I’m not as innocent as people think, you know.”

Janet reached over and patted my hand.  “Of course you’re not, dear.  No one could be.”