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I dressed and went downstairs, Aunt Agnes was holding court in the living room, sitting in the highback Victorian chair and looking like the queen she thought she was. Daddy's accountant. Lester McRae, who also handled the clinic's books, was. as Margaret Selby had told me, there with his wife. From the way he looked, however. I had the sense he had been summoned. When I entered, the conversation abruptly halted. His wife greeted me first with a hug, and then he took my hand and offered his condolences,
It was such a shock to hear it," he said. "I want you to know I'll be available to help you through anything as soon as you require it. I have all the information you need about the estate, the trusts..."
"Thank you," I said quickly.
Your father was a yen- organized man."
"I know." I said. "I appreciate what you're saying, but I'm not ready to talk about those things."
I looked at Aunt Agnes, who obviously was. For the moment, pragmatism, even my father's, seemed like the enemy of love, of caring. Everyone deserved to be mourned properly, at least by the people who cherished him or her, I thought.
"These are very serious matters. Willow.," Aunt Agnes declared.
"I know that, but a funeral for my father is pretty serious business. too. Aunt Agnes."
No one is saving it isn't. but--"
"Thank you. And thank you for your concerns, Mr. McRae," I said sharply and decisively, closing the door on any further discussion.
Mr. McRae glanced at his wife, who looked as if she had advised him against coming to the house with this purpose in mind and now was nodding her "I told you so." He stepped back, a little embarrassed at his eagerness to do his fiscal duty. Fortunately, the ungraceful silence was quickly filled by the arrival of other people who wanted to offer their condolences, people who were closer to my father, dear friends and associates.
Aunt Agnes's arrangements did seem
appropriate, however. I was happy that everything was organized, Margaret Selby reappeared, her eyes bloodshot from crying over my outburst. Everyone mistook that for her sorrow over my father's death, and she quickly accepted it and talked about how sad she was. I shook my head, smiling to myself and thinking that Daddy would remind me how much of a child she still was and how that was really all Aunt Agnes's fault.
About an hour later. Mr. Bassinger appeared with his wife, Thelma. After greeting my aunt and Margaret Selby, he hugged me and asked if he and I could excuse ourselves and speak privately for a few moments. Under Aunt Agnes's suspicious eyes, we left the gathering and went to my father's office. He carried the large manila envelope he had described on the phone.
For a moment, we both stood there, staring at his desk.
"I am having trouble believing he is gone. Willow. He had such a presence, such a powerful presence. When I came in just now. I really expected he would be sitting here, smiling at us, wondering what all the fuss was about, and demanding to know who all those people were out there."
"I know." I said. smiling.
He stared a moment more and then took a deep breath and turned to me. "I wouldn't burden you with any sort of legal information so soon if it wasn't for his forceful insistence that I get this to you as quickly as possible after his death. He wasn't often so emphatic about any of his instructions. You know how even-tempered a man he was.
"Anyway, here it is," he said, handing me the envelope. "I was told to give it to you and add only the following instructions: read it when you have a quiet moment, and be sure to read it in strict privacy. He underscored the privacy part."
I looked at the envelope. It was very thick.
"How long have you had this in your vault, Mr. Bassinger?"
"He gave it to me about six months or so after he had brought you home to live with him a
nd your mother," he replied.
"You've had this for nearly nineteen years?"
He nodded. "I left a note on it myself instructing my partner to return it to your father in the event of my death. which I really expected would predate his. We joked about it often, but he was far more clairvoyant than I knew, apparently," he said, tears coming to his eyes.
We hugged, and I put the envelope in Daddy's desk drawer before I accompanied Mr. Bassinger back to the living room and all the people who had arrived. I would have to wait a while longer to see what was in the envelope. I thought, but it was never far from my thoughts over the next few hours. All that time. I saw how my aunt was studying me, craning her neck in a birdlike way at times to watch for any communication between me and Mr. Bassinger,
When Mr. and Mrs. Bassinger left, he whispered. "Call me if there is anything you need to know as a result of you-know-what," he said.
I thanked him. After another hour, the last guest departed. Aunt Apes, still very curious, pounced.
"What is it Mr. Bassinger wanted that couldn't wait another day or so?" she demanded.
"We're arranging to do what has to be done." I answered cryptically.
