Blue Haven: A Novel

By M. E. Barbezat

Forty-five-year-old Maggie Ashland is shocked when she learns she has inherited not only her great-aunt Lillians estate but vast wealth to go along with it. A divorced mother of three adult children and a music teacher at a local college, she has no reservations about changing her life completely and moving to the estate known as Blue Haven.

After a few strange experiences, Maggie finally begins to settle into her new life. But matters are complicated not only by a group of money-grubbing relatives after Great-Aunt Lillians entire fortune but also by mysterious forces that seem to reside in the area. Maggie soon finds herself in the midst of a supernatural turf war, with the Blue Haven house right in the middle. Relying on wit, wisdom, friendship, and sheer persistence, she must rise to the challenge of defending the estate and all its secrets from the factions who seek to tear it apart.

As Maggie deals with both worldly and otherworldly enemies, she seeks strength and courage in a situation she could never have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781532007446

M. E. Barbezat

M. E. Barbezat holds a bachelor’s degree in French from Arizona State University and a master’s degree in human resources management and works as a bilingual customer analyst. Barbezat is married; the couple currently lives with their four cats in Lehi, Utah.

Book preview

BLUE

HAVEN

A Novel

M. E. BARBEZAT

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BLUE HAVEN

A NOVEL

Copyright © 2017 M. E. Barbezat.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-0743-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-0745-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-0744-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016920066

iUniverse rev. date: 12/15/2016

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1.   Does this stuff really happen?

2.   I find a meanie at the restaurant.

3.   Who says a Mercedes can’t fly?

4.   I reunite with Blue Haven

5.   All by myself… sort of.

6.   Oh goody, another relative.

7.   A new friendship

8.   Playing dress up in a vault.

9.   I spring the news on the family.

10.   This has to out of a bad B movie script

11.   The Cocoon starts to open

12.   Dinner with the family

13.   I’m not backing down to mere mortals.

14.   Blue Haven shows some of her secrets

15.   Beautifully dangerous

16.   Back in the game… And its all true.

17.   I snivel my way to forgiveness

18.   An Amazing and formidable woman!

19.   Muriel gets to know fangs and his friend

20.   I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore

21.   Philippe’s insights are amazing.

22.   I make new very bright friends

23.   The spawn of Satan and his sloshed friend come to visit

24.   Very scary, very ugly

25.   I’m running a supernatural halfway house

26.   Another one, nasty but whiny

27.   Here we go again…

28.   A soiree to remember.

29.   I am in my element

30.   I pour my heart into the recital

31.   But wait! There’s more to come

32.   Finally, a counterstrike

33.   We’ll take legalese for 1,000

34.   A calm before the storm

35.   A Heavenly call to arms

36.   The house is defending itself and us

37.   Safe for a moment

38.   The enemy from within.

39.   The stretch to the end

40.   Pretty, glimmering gems is the answer.

41.   The healing and end

42.   Heavenly power at its best.

Epilogue

Blue Haven is dedicated to the following:

Caline Ruggles for the cover art

Kevin & Annette Webster & Debbie Webster for being my sounding boards and editors.

Most of all…

Debra, my wonderful spouse. She encouraged me to follow my dream and write the book.

CHAPTER 1

Does this stuff really happen?

I ALWAYS KNEW AUNT LILLIAN (NOT Lilly or Lil she was always Lillian) was older than dirt, but didn’t realize she was 108 when she passed away. So, I find myself sitting in a lawyer’s office having her will read to me. I keep wondering how in the world did I get here?

I received a registered letter from the nosey post man who informed me that it was marked from Eureka, CA. I was then treated to a dissertation on the evils of city life. Eureka, CA is not a large city, more like a pleasant town. However, next to Price, UT, it was huge. I turned and went inside and rolled my eyes.

Lillian was the last link to my mom. I read the letter and pressed it to my breast and shed a tear for Great Aunt Lillian. Another great lady in my life was gone. I had lost my own mother and grandmother several years previously and Lillian had adopted me as one of her own. Summers at Aunt Lillian’s were full of fun and adventures. She had a small apple orchard, a pear orchard plus plum and walnut trees every where. Rows of veggies we were to go fetch for summer dinners with everyone together. Family reunions were usually loud with a gazillion kids running around. Usually there was some sort of drama, one of the babies got too close to the pond and fell in… I wish some of them would have drowned, as they grew up to be rotten individuals. More on that later.

So, on an early spring day in late March, I jumped into my trusty Buick LeSabre and headed out to try and figure out what on earth Aunt Lillian Barrett (she kept her maiden name despite being married three times) could have possibly left me. The instructions in the letter indicated I had to be there in order for the will to be read and dispersed. I remember thinking her tea services from Russia were exquisite and hoped it would be one of those. I figured that the scores of other cousins would get much more. It would be fun to see them again… to see how they turned out.

With modern technology, I found myself more and more dependent on it. I remembered to make certain the cats, Sabrina and Samantha, had food and water. I called the kids and let them know I was leaving and would be back in about four days. Then of all the stupid things, I left my cell phone on the counter. When I found out, I was in the middle of nowhere Nevada going about 85mph. I told myself I would call from the hotel. I even got on the computer and made reservations at the Holiday Inn Express in Eureka, but forgot the silly phone. I checked in and realized my cell phone had all the numbers programmed in them. I couldn’t even remember anyone’s number.

So, it was there where my musings stopped. My great aunt’s attorney came stalking in. Clad in a dark suit with high heels that looked like they were pinching her feet something fierce, she took her place behind the enormous desk. She put the up in uptight. She was a large woman whose figure was starting to go south despite the iron clad foundation garments valiantly struggling to support her girth. Her hair and make up looked like it just came off a mannequin. Kinda pretty in a macabre way. Discreetly, I looked down at her desk to catch the name. The desk plaque read Mrs. Muriel Swardway, Attorney at Law

Mrs. Muriel Swardway, Attorney at Law made no maudlin speech about the tragic loss to the community of one of their dear friends….

Well, you all received the same letter instructing you to be here in order for the will to be executed. She stated in clipped tones. The only difference was the letter that Margaret Rose Ashland Benson received.

I ground my teeth slightly at the use of my full name. Despite the fact I dropped Benson when Kelly dropped me, it still chafed when someone used the full name. I guessed that cow might have figured that out. I hadn’t been Benson for six years.

All heads turned to look at me. I was sitting in the back trying to look like part of the furnishings. I was wearing my best suit. It was a black silk jacket and skirt ensemble with dark sheer hose and some comfortable heels. Before the questions could start flying,

Mrs. Swardway cleared the confusion stating, She specifically had to be here before the will could be read. No explanation as to why or any indicators why the unusual stipulation. There were numerous other cousins who had been requested present as well. Aunt Lillian’s grandchildren, my second cousins Bruce, Cathleen and Bud (his real name was John-Michael, but everyone called him Bud) looked quizzically at me. I just smiled and shrugged letting them know I didn’t have a clue either.

Muriel, the iron clad attorney, cleared her throat and began to recite the terms and conditions of the will. Everybody, except me, was to get a lump sum of $500,000. Even with a faulty head for mental math, I quickly calculated Lillian’s fortune was worth over several million dollars especially if she was handing out $500,000 checks to descendants like it was Halloween candy. Then Muriel dropped a little surprise that would change my life forever.

I was given the sprawling Victorian mansion including all the out buildings and the garage adjacent to the house just up the coast, all the property in town which was a couple of blocks worth of prime real estate. The will stipulated that all of the property and contents were to go to me. The income from the commercial property was to be mine as well. The last bequest was that each one who attended her funeral was to get one of her stained glass panels she made for them. I knew Lillian was an artisan of sorts, but quickly found out that her window panels were renowned in the west and were high in demand.

With the last bequest read, Muriel, the battle axe attorney, snapped the portfolio shut. She glared at each one in the room and her baleful glare rested on me.

You are all required to attend the funeral tomorrow, the catered luncheon afterwards and then you will receive your inheritances. Understand these are Lillian’s wishes not mine. Ok, now this was definitely a command performance.

One creepy experience is to go to a viewing where the person who is dead looks better than some of the living. Muriel was there standing guard at the door. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear she was taking roll. Lillian had outlived three husbands, two children and one grandchild. Her youngest daughter, Beth, was still alive, but confined to a wheelchair and living in a retirement home. I was certain it would have been one Lillian’s children or grandchildren who would have inherited the house. Beth looked horrible, she had been crying and her mascara was now running down her withered cheeks, she looked like a mime gone bad.

The funeral was held in the Forbes Funeral Home Chapel of Peace. It was an appropriately furnished chapel with all the trappings of funeral home. Cousins and relatives filed in and passed the casket. Lillian would have gotten a kick out of the pretend tears and postures of grief. She could drill down through someone’s lies faster than any adult I could remember. She was an imposing figure who commanded respect from the grandkids and cousins. I adored her. She was a Nana, and surrogate Mom all in one. My own mother passed early from lung cancer and my grandmother Lucienne, Lillian’s sister, died shortly after.

As I sat in the back of the chapel, I tried again to blend into the fixtures. Not knowing beforehand if the funeral had taken place, I had packed pitifully few appropriate outfits. I wore the same silk suit from earlier and managed to steam out the wrinkles of the oyster grey blouse I had stuffed into my suitcase at the last minute. For sentimental reasons, I had grabbed my grandmother’s pearls as I left the house. Lillian had given them to her when she married my grandfather. I was wearing those pearls with their soft luster in honor of those fine women who meant so much to me.

The local bishop spoke about Lillian and her joie de vivre, how much of a community spirit she had and of course her generosity to so many local charities and organizations. The bishop was there when she passed away. He told us her last words were, The family has to stay together. Let them know how important that they stay close. He blinked back a few genuine tears, regained his composure and proceeded with the rest of the service.

Twenty-four relatives made up of cousins, grandchildren and great grand children stood up to sing a tribute to her. Being a music teacher at a local college, I feared for the worst. They were truly ministers of grace and comfort. They sang Abide with Me’ and Going Home’ The voices blended and reverently paid homage to this indomitable lady.

They wheeled Aunt Beth up so she could say a few words about the loss of her mother. I said a quiet prayer that she’d be able to have the strength to make it through her messages. Beth was dressed in a floaty, wispy dark rose creation. She did manage to string a few sentences together to sound coherent. It was hard to watch the change of the guard pass to Beth. She was old and frail as well. It was simply a matter of time as to who would have outlived the other.

The Funeral home was also equipped with serving catering services. Nobody went hungry from that luncheon. There are several cousins I was truly excited to see. We were the weird cousins that would explore the woods at twilight and ran screeching out absolutely certain we saw a monster or some other creature of the night. Lillian was interred at the cemetery attached to the funeral home. It was perfect for her, full of beautiful statues of guardian angels, weeping girls, and praying monks. I had just gotten reacquainted with several of the other family kooks and how we loved to scare the other children with the stories and antics. I remember Bruce trying to suspend Bud who was dressed in a white sheet from the top of the house and lower him in front of the girl cousin’s rooms. I was in on this and was supposed to shriek at the appropriate moment. I shrieked all right. Just as Bud got at the dramatic height in the window, Bruce’s foot slipped and both of them ended up slipping off the roof. The only thing that saved them was Lillian’s prize lavenders and rose trees. They caught the devil for that as well as Lillian’s very sharp tongue.

I went back out to the cemetery grounds. I wanted just a moment to collect my thoughts and to have a moment of peace with Lillian. The sunlight and warmth of this beautiful spring day felt good on my face and arms. I plucked one of the white roses from the cemetery gardens and laid it on her casket. The stress and loneliness finally caught up to me. The tears started to flow while remembering the dynamic lady who I thought would live forever. At least I had the smarts to wear waterproof make up. I thought it was bad enough to have one poorly done mime here. I was just pulling it together when I heard footsteps behind me. I tried to ignore them for as long as I could. A very imposing man sat down a couple of chairs from me and quietly took my hand and placed his handkerchief in it.

I mumbled something that sounded like, thankyouferyerhangkachief. I promised I would wash it and get it back to him. He smiled down at me and insisted I keep it. (Can’t blame his motivation there, yuck!) He sat back down, this time right next to me. He was a big man. I turned and realized it was Bud. He had changed. He was this scrawny kid that was two years younger than me and always tagged along with that mooning sick calf look in his eyes. I was surprised to see a handsome man with the same large dark sympathetic eyes looking at me. He had very defined features, straight nose firm chin with a slight cleft in it, a charming grin and dimples when he smiled. He wore his hair thick and full on top and short on the sides and back. I realized he was the other redhead in the family. I was the first in several generations, he was the second. He was with the FBI, if memory served me correctly. Well, I thought, at least there’s a bit of eye candy here. Then I stopped myself for thinking like a cougar. After what seemed an eternity, he advised me that the family had been dispatched by Muriel with their checks. She wanted to speak to me.

Great, I thought, Just what I wanted to face at the end of a long emotional day, Muriel the lawyer from hell. I sighed and trudged back up the sloping lawn to the funeral home.

Muriel was waiting for me and was surprisingly gentle as she took my arm and led me to a private office in the home.

Normally, I would have done this in the privacy of my office, she started in without preamble. However, Lillian was very adamant that the dispersal of her estate be handled immediately.

I looked at her quizzically, Well this was pretty immediate. Why the hurry? I gazed at her and started in, This was all done so quickly. The registered letter had no indicators if Lillian was already interred. There was no phone call from anybody informing me she had passed. Basically, I’m told to come up here or nobody gets anything. You’ll forgive me if I’m just a little perplexed. I drew in a breath to continue.

She raised her well manicured hand to stop me. I could tell she didn’t do any typing; those talons were bright red and almost dangerously long.

I know you have numerous questions, Lillian said you would. She looked at me knowingly. You are the designee of the Barrett fortune. There is only one Barrett allowed to own the actual Barrett fortune. It has been the stipulation for generations.

Muriel continued, This started with Lillian’s great-great grandfather who made his fortune in shipping as a captain, then partner and ultimately sole owner of one of the most successful Pacific shipping lines. When he retired, he lived in the Eureka area and his son, Lillian’s great grandfather, made another fortune in gold. It was Lillian’s grandfather that built the manor known as Blue Haven."

She went on shrewdly, Money, if handled correctly, has a way of self perpetuating. There are several gold reserves generating income that is invested which generates more income which is used to purchase holdings in the forestry, shipping and wine industries in the area. I have a complete inventory of what you now own of the Barrett fortune. She shifted her bulk, crossed her ankles under her and continued,

There are several portfolios that are interest bearing. Those you can use for whatever you want. There is the accounting firm of Swardway and Sons that manages the estate’s vast holdings and reinvestments.

I piped in, Lemme guess, someone from your family owns that particular accounting firm.

As a matter of fact, yes. It’s my husband’s CPA firm. She smiled proudly, He runs it with our two oldest boys.

How many children to you have? I inquired politely.

Six. The two oldest Malcolm and Marius work the firm with their dad. The next two Sadie and Cerise are working at the Law office as paralegals for their internship before they take the bar exams. The two youngest are off in their own worlds. Garrett is a principle dancer with the San Francisco Ballet Company. My baby, Gayla, is working in Las Vegas as an emergency room doctor. She also sings in the Saints Unified Choir.

She fixed her half glasses on her nose and stared imperiously down at me. I knew I was going to like her or detest her in the next few minutes.

She started up again, You need to know that the will and trust are ironclad. It has so many stipulations and counter notices in it. It’s like a labyrinth of legalese. She explained it thusly:

1. If any descendant challenged the validity of the will, they were cut off.

2. If any descendant tried to amend the will they were disowned.

3. Anyone who wanted to change his or her arrangements before fifteen years had past was then forfeit to any other part of the trust or fortune.

4. The only person permitted to make changes to the trust provisions, will or estate holdings was the designee.

You see, Lillian made this as water tight as one of her great grandfather’s ships

Muriel went on, She had been privy to some ugly probate wrangling in her day. She made darn good and sure this would never be challenged in court. There are stipulations as to what family members can draw from the trust and in what amounts and how often. Lillian was very determined that her money was not going to be unscrupulously used by descendants that didn’t know how to do a proper day’s work. It is the honor and responsibility of the designee to choose the next Barrett to inherit the family fortune. She made sure that none of the descendents were going to be able to bankrupt the Barrett fortune.

Does this mean I have to change my name? I inquired sarcastically. Then I quoted from Romeo & Juliet, What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet My nerves were a bit frayed and I was trying humor to stave off the melancholy.

Muriel looked at me with that very intense gaze and quipped, Either I’m starting to like you, or you have the same weird sense of humor that Lillian had.

I shrugged, Humor is usually what I revert to in unfamiliar, sad or tense situations. It keeps me from getting too emotionally charged, I told her.

She smiled at that one. Before I left, she had scheduled an appointment to go see the house tomorrow. I would meet her at her office, and she would take us from there. This felt like a command performance rather than an invitation. She handed me a portfolio.

This will keep you busy for awhile. It starts the process rolling of putting your signatures on everything to officially transfer the Barrett estate to you.

Throwing me off guard, she winked and said, Hope you have a good memory and some No-doze, this is not light reading.

She slid the portfolio over to me. We stood up, shook hands and left the Forbes Funeral Home Chapel of Peace facilities and Aunt Lillian.

I was at loose ends; I didn’t have anywhere to go except back to the hotel. None of the cousins waited around for me. I walked dejectedly back to the parking lot. I watched Muriel get into her car and fly out of the parking lot. I sighed and dug through my purse for the car keys.

I really didn’t want to go to the hotel. I got in the car and started driving aimlessly. I had an idea… I had some me time. I went to Subway and purchased a sandwich, a bag of chips and a soda. I got on the 101 and drove north. After about twenty miles I found what I was looking for. I pulled into the little Scenic View park and opened all the windows. I sat in the peace and quiet and ate my lunch. I picked up the enormous folder the lawyer handed me. I started at the top and read through almost the entire thing. I took lots of tedium breaks and continued to look through, and where appropriate, sign documents. I realized in a matter of hours I had just become very wealthy. It was surreal.

CHAPTER 2

I find a meanie at the restaurant.

T HE SUN WAS SETTING THE most spectacular way across the Pacific. I was tempted to keep driving until I found another hotel. I reminded myself this wasn’t a vacation. I dutifully turned the car around and headed back to Eureka. I pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and went to my room. The message light was on. That was odd. I didn’t call anyone nor did anyone know I was here. (Thanks to my stupidity of leaving the cell phone at home.) I picked up and hit the message button. The message was from Cathleen. She wanted to meet for drinks and catch up. She left her number on the message and told me to call no matter when I got this. Checking my watch, I realized it wasn’t late at all.

I called the number and asked for Cathleen. She was thrilled that I called her back.

She blurted, How long are you in town? What’s your schedule like tonight? Have you had dinner? Where do you want to meet? Can you meet?

She paused to draw a breath and I jumped in, I’m only in town for another two days. I’ve not had dinner and I’m free this evening. Cathleen, remember, I haven’t been here in quite some time, I have no idea where to go. And yes, I can meet.

She gave me directions to some restaurant that sounded pretty fa-fa-shee-shee. I asked her what the dress was; she told me it was the usual for our kind. I had no idea what she meant by that. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked pretty road worn. My black suit was pretty wrinkled and unkempt looking. Great, now what do I do? When all else fails, shower and think. I blew through the shower and wrapped my hair up in a towel. I grabbed my suit case and tried to be creative. I finally settled on a full skirt with a muted floral pattern and a dark green silk blouse. I kept the pearls on. I slipped my feet into black low heeled sandals and called it good. The hair was brushed out and while still damp, French braided so it formed a crown around my head. At least, it was out of the way and looked semi chic. I put on some liner, mascara and lipstick, checked the appearance and found it acceptable.

I arrived about five minutes late. The parking lot was pretty full. Looking at the Mercedes, Lexus, Jaguars and Cadillacs and some models I have no idea what they were occupying the parking stalls, I was starting to feel really out of my league. I wasn’t used to having money to burn.

Then I saw the patrons walking in. Men in Armani and Hugo Boss suits, women in Chanel, Dolce & Gabbana and Halston, I was sooo underdressed. I looked like the little match girl next to these people. If I had my blasted cell phone, I would have chickened out in a heart beat and cancelled on Cathleen right there in the parking lot.

I cringed as I got out of my car. I would like to say I held my head up high and walked into that place like I owned it. Nope. I kind of slunk along the walk trying to blend into the shrubbery and wall. Great, I was now in humiliation-land. I had to walk the full length of the outdoor dining patio to get to the front entrance. (If I could have found the staff entrance without being painfully obvious, I would have ducked in there.) The patio was packed of course. I grabbed my purse tighter on my shoulder and walked quickly by. There were people who actually stopped and glared at me. I was being scrutinized like a mouse right before she became the cat’s dinner.

I walked in and immediately looked for Cathleen. No such luck. I moved up to the hostess stand. I felt like I was a science experiment gone terribly wrong as she scrutinized me from head to toe.

She sniffed disdainfully, I’m sorry miss, but we do require reservations. We are booked for this evening.

The redhead in me wanted to reach across her little podium and snatch that fake bun off her head. I restrained myself.

I smiled as sweetly as I could muster, I’m meeting Ms. Cathleen Iverson. She told me to meet her here.

Amazing what name dropping could do.

She smiled brightly, Oh Ms. Iverson is here. Follow me please.

I now descended to the fourth level of Hell as I walked past all of these people who had judged, weighed and dismissed me with a glance of contempt. I was not in their circle of greed and gain.

A couple of tables away, I saw Cathleen stand up and regally beckon the hostess forward. She was in a white suit with a violent red t-shirt underneath. She had pointed white shoes to match. She came towards me and hugged me and bumped cheek to cheek in a continental greeting. She looked me over thoroughly. I could read the disapproval in her eyes, but her smile stayed plastered in place.

Well you certainly look bohemian tonight. It’s a casual but fun outfit.

Thank you, I didn’t know what to pack and I certainly would have never considered coming to such a nice place with all of these wonderful people. (It was a petty dig that went right over her head.)

She glanced at her watch, (encrusted with diamonds) You’re right on time. As soon as the waiter comes back, I’ll order some appetizers and cocktails.

Appetizers sound great, but just order me a diet Pepsi with a lime twist.

I glanced at the table, the linens were absolutely soft stark white. I noticed there was already a martini glass by Cathleen. The waiter came by. She instantly changed her expression.

She sneered, We’ll have the seafood sampler appetizer and I’ll have another Spring Martini, my cousin will have one also.

I tried to cut her off and remind her about the diet Pepsi. I ground my teeth silently. It took no longer than five minutes for the waiter to be back with the order.

She waved him away stating, A little more time if you please.

Wow, she was starting to get on my nerves. She took a huge swallow of that Martini. Mine sat on the table untouched. I helped myself some of the appetizer and sipped my water.

I’ll order for us, it will be easier for you, she said as if she were speaking to someone from another planet.

What was I? It’s not like I was some mentally challenged individual without a sense of self.

Trying to do a toned down imitation of her, I slightly sneered back, Cathleen, let me try and figure out what I want, then if I can’t seem to make up my mind, or figure out what the dishes are, you can help, how’s that?

She looked at me with an expression of one whose lemon martini was just a bit too tart. The waiter came back to take our order. He noticed the untouched martini.

Is something wrong with the drink ma’am?

Giving him a genuine smile I said, I don’t drink. I failed to inform my cousin before she finished ordering. Please, bring me a diet Pepsi with a twist of lime.

He grinned, It would be my pleasure.

We gave our orders and he was dismissed by a wave of Cathleen’s hand. Her hands were immaculately polished and manicured in the best French tips. She had a monster wedding set on and her right hand was a cocktail ring saturated in opals. She had a gold choker on. Her make-up was flawless. She looked like she had it sprayed on. (Mentally, I was calculating how long that would have taken to put on.) My hands were those of a pianist/teacher. My nails were short with no polish. They were well kept, but they were musician’s hands.

She smiled at me and started in, So, what have you decided to do with Lil’s place?

Automatically I corrected her, Lillian.

She gushed, Oh that’s right that silly old bat was adamant about people using her full name. (The like-o-meter was dropping like a rock by this time.)

I replied, Honestly Cathleen, I have no idea I was even inheriting all this. It really hasn’t time to sink in.

I think you should have it appraised and then check for market value in the surrounding areas.

I think that’s been done by the law firm and Aunt Lillian’s accounting firm. Besides, I really need some time to digest this. (I was starting to feel like a parrot) I’m going to have to figure out what all this means to me now. I’m planning on going home and weighing out my options. I’m definitely going to seek some legal counsel as well.

Legal counsel? Really? Why would you do that? That will is iron clad. The minute you sign your name to any of that legalese, you become a very rich woman. I know you’ve had your financial difficulties, so this should come as a boon to you.

My jaw hit the table. I gaped, Financial difficulties? Really? When was this?

Right after your divorce, wasn’t it? I thought you were left with the kids and the mortgage while he took off with his mistress.

In my best socialite fake laugh I retorted, Oh Cathleen, where did you get your information? I did just fine in the divorce. (I was not offering this barracuda any more information that necessary.) I’ve had to work from a budget just like everyone else, but I’ve managed quite fine.

Let me help you in that arena. She whipped out her check book, I’ll write a check for $500,000.00 as a deposit and I’ll take that monstrosity off your hands. This way you can fix up your place in Price and not have to worry about the old place. This way, you’ll have the cash and we’ll get my attorney to draw up a bill of sale.

I was completely insulted. I could see she was anxious to buy me off and be done with me. She wanted her hooks in the house. Here I was hoping to catch up and reacquaint with a childhood friend and cousin, and I found this shallow person. How brash, how brazen, how dismissive she was. I’m sure she felt that if I couldn’t dress properly for dinner, I would have no idea how to run Blue Haven. She was condescending and mean. I felt my tears start to burn. There was no way I was letting this plastic imitation of a human dismiss me with a check.

Honestly Cathleen, I really don’t know what to do. Everything seems all tied together. I thought, Thomas Wolfe was right, you can’t go home again.

Well you can thank Mrs. Swardway for getting her hooks into Lil, uh, Lillian, she self corrected. She continued, I’ve read the family trust part. There’s more than enough to give away during the designated withdraw period. Lillian made that will ironclad and about as treacherous as Daedalus’ labyrinth. She was awful tight with her money. I was always under the impression that was the family’s money and not just hers.

I was starting to get suspicious. She gave me that Cat-about-to-pounce look,

Well you seem fair minded, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if we talked to her about making the bequests larger and the withdrawal periods more frequent.

I remember the conversation about the grandchildren who would love to get their hooks on some the treasures in the house. She casually mentioned she would be happy to go with me tomorrow to see the spooky ol’ place. I politely declined. I had no idea what shape this place was left in or in what deplorable state it might be in once we arrived.

As soon as dinner was over, I made the excuse I needed to powder my nose. I found the bathroom and started trembling. She had invited me here to try and strong arm some concessions about the money. She was circumventing the will to try and get more money. If wanted, I could have her cut off.

I came back and there was a pastry tray and coffee waiting.