Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes
Page 24

I threw back my shoulders and lifted my chin, knowing I’d be blamed for this somehow.
Violet gave me a livid glare of How could you?
I turned and carefully walked out of the hall, praying I didn’t fall in my heels. About one hundred pairs of eyes watched me leave. I could have crawled under a rock and died right there and it still wouldn’t have been enough to escape.
Aunt Bessie followed me out as the room finally broke its spell with a roar of chaos. Violet remained behind. I was torn about that. I wanted my big sister to hug me and tell me it would be okay, but was fearful she’d come out and accuse me of ruining Momma’s funeral. I suddenly realized how very alone I was now. Was my independence really worth the price I was paying?
We agreed that Uncle Earl would drive me home. Aunt Bessie could stay behind and help Violet, even though I suspected Violet didn’t want her there.
We were almost home when Uncle Earl cleared his throat. “What that woman said, it wasn't right. Just remember that she doesn’t know you. You can’t change the opinions of small-minded people.” He reached over and patted my arm.
My chin quivered and I bit my lower lip. Those were the most words I’d heard Uncle Earl say in years.
Uncle Earl dropped me off at home and went back to the church. Aunt Bessie and Uncle Earl came back later and spent the night again. I tried to call Violet before I went to bed, but she didn't answer. I left a rambling message on her machine, apologizing for upsetting her and begging for her forgiveness. I hung up, afraid I lost her forever even though Aunt Bessie assured me that all she needed was time to get used to things.
The next morning when Aunt Bessie and Uncle Earl left for home, Aunt Bessie asked me to come home with her. I would have gone in a heartbeat if I hadn’t been ordered to stay in Fenton County. Besides, I had an appointment with my attorney that afternoon.
Deanna Crawfield looked much more professional on a Thursday afternoon than at two o’clock on a Sunday morning, but then again I think most people would. We sat at a conference table while she took notes on a legal pad. Deanna said the evidence was circumstantial. The cut utility lines and the busted side door were in my favor, but the fact nothing was stolen and my argument with Momma in the afternoon were not. She was surprised the police hadn't called me in for more questioning, which she saw as a bad sign. They were collecting more evidence first.
An hour later, I left feeling less than confident about my freedom. If anything, I wondered how long it would take for the Henryetta police department to show up at my door to arrest me.
On the way home, I stopped at a convenience store to buy milk. While I dug cash out of my wallet, a Wal-Mart receipt fell out onto the counter. I almost wadded it up before noticing the writing on the back.
My list.
I picked it up, staring in disbelief. In all the confusion, I’d forgotten about it.
“Do you want me to throw that away?” the clerk asked.
“No, that’s okay…” I mumbled and carefully tucked it into my wallet. I’d figure out what to do with it later.
After I got home, I decided to search for Momma’s will. I knew she had one made after Daddy died and I suspected it was in the lockbox in her bedroom closet. I couldn’t believe Violet hadn’t thought of it, but she probably figured she’d have to deal with me to read it. She never returned my phone call from the night before and she hadn’t called to check on my attorney appointment.
The dusty box was on the floor in the closet, hidden behind a stack of empty shoe boxes. Inside, I found a stack of papers and pulled them out one by one. Momma and Daddy’s marriage license. Daddy’s death certificate. The deed to the house. At the bottom was a large envelope labeled “Last Will and Testament of Agnes Gardner.” I opened the flap and pulled out a bundle of papers, all stapled together. I read the legalese, wondering if anyone really understood any of it, until I got several pages in and found Violet’s name. Bequeathed to Violet Mae Gardner Beauregard was all Momma’s money, her house and all its furnishings.
Everything.
The room became fuzzy and I worried I’d pass out and hit my head again. I put my head between my knees, gasping for air. Had she hated me so much that she left me nothing?
When the threat of fainting faded, I sat up and reexamined the page, sure I’d misread it. But I hadn’t. Violet got everything.
I turned the page looking for my name. I found it the next page over. Rose Anne Gardner received a carved wooden box located in Momma’s closet. A wood box?
I found it in the top shelf of her closet, a small wooden trunk about fifteen inches long and eight inches wide. It reminded me of a miniature pirate’s chest with a tiny padlock holding it closed. I searched Momma’s drawers for a key, coming up with nothing. It was fairly light so I knew it couldn’t be packed with money. In fact, if I hadn’t heard a small clunking sound, I would have wondered if it held anything at all.
I stared at the grimy chest, my inheritance, and realized in the matter of only a few days I had lost everything.
Chapter Seven
After the initial shock wore off, I got up to fix myself dinner only to discover I’d left the milk out on the counter. I slid the container on the top shelf and noticed a six-pack of beer, two of the bottles gone. I bent over, hanging on the door as I peeked in and tried to figure out how they got there. Momma never allowed The Devil’s Brew in the house. Uncle Earl must have brought them and forgotten them.
I set the carton on the counter, staring at it like it was an alien pod dropped off in my fridge, about to pop out a gremlin at any moment. Because I knew something like that was bound to happen; Momma said nothing good ever came from a bottle of beer.