On the Outside Looking In

By Bliss Addison

On the morning Poppy and Graham Gillespie are about to leave on their monthly visit back home to see his parents, Graham receives an anonymous letter stating that his father’s life is in danger. Given their tumultuous relationship with his folks, they are skeptical about the claim but they decide not to dismiss the letter without at least investigating. Soon they become aware of the diabolical plan by their nemesis to put Graham's father in an early grave. Murder by natural causes - who would believe them? Now that they know, how will they keep him alive so he can live the rest of his days without the threat of having lived too long?

Poppy’s best friend and lawyer Etta de Costa has always been at Poppy’s side offering advice and counsel, but then circumstances change and she becomes the one who is in need of support. First with letting go of the secret she’s carried since law school and second with involving Poppy in a scandal surrounding Etta’s sister, a nun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bliss Addison
• Release date: Nov 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005320560

Bliss Addison

Paralegal Bliss Addison is the author of, among others, A Battle of Wills and the sequel, With Malicious Intent; Restless Souls, Wolfe She Cried, and One Millhaven Lane. She' s the youngest of eight children, became a great-aunt at twenty years old and is a if-it's-going-to-happen-to-anyone person.If she's not at her computer, she's probably taking a long walk with her dog or plotting her next story.Originally from a small town on the northern shores of picturesque New Brunswick, she now lives in Saint John, NB Canada with her husband.

Book preview

199

On the Outside Looking In

By

Bliss Addison

©2022 Bliss Addison. All Rights Reserved

Authors Note: This is a work of fiction based entirely on the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental. Real places mentioned in the book are depicted fictionally and are not intended to portray actual times or places.

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author, excepting brief quotes to be used in reviews.

08.09.23

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

SUMMARY

On the morning Poppy and Graham Gillespie are about to leave on their monthly visit back home to see his parents, Graham receives an anonymous letter stating that his father’s life is in danger. Given their tumultuous relationship with his folks, they’re skeptical about the claim but they decide not to dismiss the letter without at least investigating. Soon they become aware of the diabolical plan by their nemesis to put Graham's father in an early grave. Murder by natural causes - who would believe them?

Now that they know, how will they keep him alive so he can live the rest of his days without the threat of having lived too long?

Poppy’s best friend and lawyer Etta de Costa has always been at Poppy’s side offering advice and counsel, but then circumstances change and she becomes the one who is in need of support. First with letting go of the secret she’s carried since law school and second with a scandal surrounding Etta’s sister, a nun.

C H A P T E R 1

I’m taking a breather at my desk after a two-mile run when my husband Graham storms into my home office, clutching a letter and an envelope in his hand and exclaiming, She’s at it again, Poppy. You’re not going to believe what Carolee’s masterminded this time.

Whatever it is, I’ll believe it. Since she found out about the Gillespies’ vast nest egg and their yearly income after she married Graham’s younger brother forty years ago, it’s been one scheme after the other. If Carolee can’t get what she wants legitimately, she’ll figure out another way, which is how she snagged a cute guy like Andrew Gillespie in the first place.

I caught on to her scheming ways more than twenty years ago. I told Graham, but he refused to believe me. He does now, but it’s too late to stop her.

Taking the letter in my hand, I read it.

Graham,

Your father needs your help. They’re threatening his life. Don’t let what happened in the past between the two of you influence your decision whether or not to come to his aid. It isn’t too late to stop what’s been set in motion, but you must act fast. Only you can help. Do not tell anyone about this letter. Those who you think are your friends are not. Trust no one!

The devil’s nuts! My outburst doesn’t surprise me. I’ve had it up to the roots of my hair with my in-laws and their theatrics. What’s going on now?

Graham rolls his eyes and says, I share your frustration. There’s always something with my family, isn’t there?

Focusing my gaze on the envelope he grips between rigid fingers, I ask, Any return address?

He examines the front, then the back and shakes his head.

Postmark?

He brings the envelope close to his eyes and squints. Looks like Whyte Rapids.

My senses are on high alert now. Where did you get the letter? There’s no mail on Saturday.

It was delivered next door by mistake yesterday. Sam brought it over while you were running. I just opened it. Graham studies me. So what do you think? Is the claim valid?

Like Graham a moment ago, I’m not sure. But if we can talk it through, I’m certain we’ll come to an understanding. What was your first thought after you read it?

Graham tips his head to the side. That it’s a trap, and another of Carolee’s schemes to get us in trouble with my parents. I’m sure she noticed Mom and Dad are liking us lately and that they haven’t exiled us in a while. We’re almost due. He raises his eyebrows and continues, We know what happens when Carolee feels her position in my family’s hierarchy is challenged.

Yeah, we usually end up on the outside looking in. I can’t shake the feeling something bad is in play.

She’s probably afraid my parents will give us everything they’ve given her over the years. Ha. Like there’s any chance of that!

Flicking an edge of the letter, I use the stall tactic to give Graham time to chill before I offer him another option, the one that occurred to me as I read the letter and the one he won’t like to hear.

When he appears calmer, I blurt the thought before I lose courage. Or maybe your father really is in danger. Graham won’t like the idea, but it’s a possibility he must consider. And he’ll argue, but that’s all right. Given a little time, he’ll remember he despises his father and that there are others who do, as well. Off the top of my head, I can list three people in my father-in-law’s immediate circle who would want him gone forever, or at least, out of the way. This is something else Graham will have to conclude on his own.

I doubt it, he says. A few seconds later he’s narrowing his eyes and hypothesizing, Supposing I go along with your theory, who do you think is behind the threat?

I give the letter a second look, then say, "The letter reads they’re threatening his life, which implies more than one person. Like a husband and wife team, as in Carolee and Andrew. If there's a plot against your father, and I suspect there is, the writer would have to be someone close to your parents for them to have discovered it."

Like who?

Unable to determine from his expression whether or not he’s considering the idea or humoring me, I play along. Your guess is as good as mine. A neighbor, maybe. Someone on the street. Your mom’s hairdresser or your dad’s barber, a teller at the bank… it can be anyone. A grocery store clerk, for instance, or the kid at the gas pumps at Ansio’s.

True. They tell our family’s business to anyone who’ll listen. But....

Graham’s still hesitant to make the leap and I don’t know what to say to convince him. All I have right now is the strong feeling we shouldn’t dismiss the letter without first investigating.

Are you sure it’s not Carolee plotting against us again? This time to have us permanently exiled.

Graham wants to take the easier path, but it’ll be wrong to mislead him, especially since I know I’m right. I have a sixth sense about all things Gillespie. I get the feeling the writer is female, but the wording doesn’t sound like anything Carolee would say. We shouldn’t cross her out, though, but it’s definitely not her handwriting. I wait for his comeback. Only two seconds goes by.

Who besides us has an ax to grind with my parents? Everyone back home thinks Mom is the sweetest thing since cotton candy, and Dad’s a community icon and well respected.

What about Carolee? Wouldn’t she want to see your father out of the picture? Isn’t he in the way of her getting her hands on everything your parents own, of gaining control?

Are you suggesting she’s plotting to murder Dad?

Said like that, it does sound preposterous. I wave my hand in the air. Forget it. I’m just rambling. It’s a ridiculous notion. But it isn’t really. And as I know that, so does he. He just isn’t able to admit the truth, yet.

Graham purses his lips and looks at me out of the corner of his eyes. Maybe you’re on to something. As long as my father’s breathing, Carolee would consider him a roadblock to the money. He shakes his head. It never stops, does it? The melodrama. The greed. The stealing and backstabbing. He puts his hands on his hips and continues, If my brother predeceases my parents, Carolee will be left out in the cold as far as their estates are concerned.

Maybe so, maybe not. We shouldn’t underestimate her power of persuasion. Carolee can see into the future as well as any of us. She’s probably squirreled away plenty of their money, already.

Graham swipes hair away from his eyes. That isn’t enough for her. She wants it all! Every damn last cent. He chops the air with his hand. Why can’t she settle for some? Why can’t she be happy with what she has?

Because she thinks everything your parents have belongs to her and because she thinks every act of kindness should be paid for.

With my brother gone, so is Carolee’s position in the family and her connection to Mom and Dad. Staring at the floor, Graham pinches his bottom lip together and sinks into thought for a few seconds. When he looks up, he says, Maybe it’s true that Andrew’s terminal. Maybe you’re right. This isn’t about getting us in trouble. It’s about the money.

It’s always been about the money, hon.

Graham huffs a breath. For Carolee, anyway.

Are you sorry you didn’t confront your parents when we first learned what they were doing?

Strange you ask, he says, averting his gaze. I’ve been wondering that a lot lately. I think it was a mistake only until I remember we would’ve been playing into Carolee and Andrew's hands to have us permanently exiled. He pauses. With us out of the way meant more money for them. A two-way-split, rather than three.

At least we foiled that plan, I say.

Any regrets about taking the high road?

Ask me that after we find out if there’s truth to what the letter writer claims is happening. I walk from the office and into our bedroom. Graham follows.

He takes our cell phones from the chargers and asks, We still making the trip?

The question surprises me, and I wonder if he’s reached his point of tolerance. I always believed he would at some time, that something would trigger his patience. It’s only natural. Everyone has his or her limits. In the past four decades, there were moments where I considered giving up on the Gillespies and how the words, ‘To hell with them’, would feel so good to say. But after non-temper-driven thought, I found myself unable to let go of the notion that one day the Gillespies will accept us. Family’s important to us both, something the Gillespies refuse to see and if they do, they don’t care.

Maybe one day things will be different between us.

I can’t stop myself from being optimistic or from believing that one day Carolee will slip up and do something so outrageous my in-laws will see her for what she is.

We can postpone, if you like, I say, hoping he won’t act on an impulse. But I have to appear willing to comply. He expects me to.

Graham glances at our overnight bag on the cedar chest and says, We’re all packed. Besides, Mom and Dad’s tactics to keep their secrets safe are fun to watch.

Do you think they’ll ever realize we know?

He shakes his head. Just as it will never occur to them the only reason we visit is because they don’t want us in their lives.

Neither of us can remember a time when our visits back home didn’t fill our stomachs with dread. Over forty years of weekend stays where we aren’t wanted have taken a toll. Our sense of worth left a long time ago and we’ve been backpedaling since.

I can’t let go of Graham’s question about whether or not we should still make the trip. Thinking this is one of those damned if we do and damned if we don’t situations with the Gillespies, I say, Maybe it’s not a bad idea to postpone. It’ll give us some time to assess the legitimacy of the letter and to figure out who the letter writer is.

Graham looks at me like I lost my sanity.

Maybe I have. That, too, is probably inevitable.

I thought you’d be jumping all over this. You love to solve puzzles. We wouldn’t have caught onto Carolee if not for your intuition and infallible memory. We wouldn’t even suspect her right now if it weren’t for you. Thank God you uncovered that conspiracy.

For all the good it did. I run my fingers along my jaw as though testing the waters before I say, We could be walking into the lion’s den.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

The bim-bam of the pendulum clock in the living room chimes nine o’clock, reminding me we’ll be getting underway soon.

My stomach flutters and second-guesses rattles in my brain. Too many what ifs to handle this early in the day. Determined not to dredge up the past, I walk to the window and admire the pond in the back yard. Gulls perched on the surrounding trees examine the tranquil water, waiting for a misdirected trout to surface. Before they can make good on their surveillance, the honk of a car horn frightens off the white-winged birds. I compare myself and Graham with them – timid and afraid.

I don’t like change of any kind, yet there’s been so much of it in my life. You’d think I’d have gotten used to it by now. This change, though, if the letter writer’s right, will be the greatest change in anyone’s life – the one where nothing humanly possible can be done, the one I’d have to learn to accept, which is the hardest of them all. Death and its many sobering consequences are at hand once again. I can already feel its after-effects creeping inside me, chilling me as it forges a path to my brain, where it will take up permanent residence to torment me at every opportunity.

After Graham goes into the garage to load the car, I shower and change, then discuss with myself the merits of taking a sedative. God knows I need it. Still, though, I hesitate. I can’t give in to the temptation–it will be effortless to pop a pill and let drugs dull the dread inside me, but I never take the simple route.

So, the bathroom becomes my battleground. After it sparkles and shines I go back into my office, feeling at peace with my decisions of the past and the present.

I share the space with Johnny, our German Shepherd. Graham and I chanced upon him ten years ago wandering along Old Orchard Road, tired and hungry. He’d walked a great distance, the veterinarian said, evidenced by the blisters on the pads of his puppy paws.

We took in the frightened pup, nursed him back to health and eventually earned his trust. We grew attached to him in the weeks we searched for his owner. To our delight, the ads we posted around town and on Facebook went unanswered. He’s been with us since and we never regretted the spontaneous decision to keep him.

As if on cue, Johnny raises his huge head from his dog bed, yawns, then plunks it back down.

I love you too, bud, I say as I sit at my desk to call my best friend and lawyer to tell her about this latest development with my in-laws. If anyone will know whether the letter’s truth or fiction, it’s Etta. I reach for the phone, then remember she has a crochet class this morning.

Etta is the only person I entrusted with the truth about my relationship with the Gillespies. I imagine her no-nonsense glare after she reads the letter. She will be skeptical about its authenticity, but she’ll also chuckle at the absurdity that the letter writer considers Graham and me an effective solution to any problem involving the elder Gillespies.

Anxious to get her opinion, I text her.

Need your advice. Can we meet tomorrow night?

Etta: Be there around seven with chocolate cheesecake! C u then.

With that taken care of, my thoughts go to our last visit home five months ago. It was late January, a day after a nor’easter dumped twenty-two inches of snow on Bangor. Iris had called to ask Graham to take his father to the ER after he tried to open a can of brown beans with a butcher’s knife and sliced through his index finger, a cut that took twelve stitches to close.

Snowplows had been working non-stop to clear highways, but despite their best efforts, some parts of the highway was single lane only, snow-packed and icy. If not for Graham’s company four wheel drive and chains, we wouldn’t have been able to make the trip.

We’d arrived at the house expecting Gus to argue against going to the hospital. He didn’t, surprising us, and by some miraculous intervention, the bleeding had stopped. Iris didn’t come to the hospital. The wait would be too long, she complained, and the chairs in the waiting room were plastic.

Monday evenings were slow nights at Whyte Rapids Hospital. Graham and I don’t question the small mercies.

The ER doctor tended to Gus’s injury with a sympathetic hand, taking care not to cause him undue pain. In the same manner as Gus treated Graham and me, he walked from the cubicle without a backward glance or a thank-you for the doctor.

We never thought to question why Iris had sought our help. She could have called one of Gus’s nephews, any one of them would have come to their uncle’s aid, but since his mother asked this of Graham, he was only too willing to oblige. And so was I, to tell the truth.

After we got Gus settled back at home with his pain pills and antibiotic medication, we noticed Andrew and Carolee’s cars in their driveway. I wondered why they hadn’t taken Gus to the hospital, but I didn’t give it another moment’s thought, nor did I bring it up with Graham.

Thinking of my in-laws brings to mind another unfortunate incident with Graham’s mother. As if it happened yesterday, her face flashes in front of my eyes. The skin on her face is pulled tight in a grimace and her narrow lips snarl as she spews the words, Don’t come here again. Don’t call. Any of you. You’re not welcome. Then Graham’s shocked expression comes into view. I remember the moment vividly as he pleads with her. Mom, you can’t be serious. Please don’t do this. Tell us what we did. We can talk about it. Mom, please. What did we do wrong?

She spat, You know.

But Graham and I didn’t. And no amount of pleading convinced Iris to share what she knew.

Since then we’d seen a lot of crazy.

C H A P T E R 2

Carolee Gillespie stomped to the closet and grabbed a broom, then climbed onto a chair below Andrew’s upstairs bedroom, the one they’d shared when things were good between them. He hadn’t protested when she moved her belongings to the back bedroom. Fifteen years ago this autumn and one of the wisest choices of her life. At least now she got a good night’s sleep.

Carolee often threatened him with divorce, but she would never take that step, little did her in-laws and Andrew know. The threat was an effective tool to keep him in line. Anytime, he became disenchanted with his life and her, she used it. And he always folded, like she knew he would. And if he didn’t, her father-in-law would make Andrew see how much it would cost him.

She raised the handle over her head and thumped it against the ceiling. Andrew, she screamed.

Carolee had already been upstairs twice to shake him awake. Both times, he’d fallen back to sleep. She’d cleaned her bedroom, the bathroom and then vacuumed, hoping he’d decide he couldn’t sleep through the noise. But he did.

The man slept like the dead.

Get up! She listened for any sound of life. Nothing. Her temper raised another notch. She yelled his name again. Dead silence followed. Prodding the ceiling, she shrieked, Andrew. Above her head, the bed creaked and feet hit the floor. About damn time! Like Gus, lazy ran through Andrew’s veins. That and whiskey.

She stayed in place until she heard the water running in the bathroom, then she hopped to the floor and put the chair back at the table.

Carolee went into the living room and sat on the sofa, remembering how she’d believed Andrew would make all her wishes come true.

Her mother had been fond of saying, Be careful what ya wish fer!

Wise words, but she hadn’t taken the advice. Carolee wanted what she wanted and didn’t stop until she got it.

Her thoughts traveled back to their freshman year at Whyte Rapids High. She’d chosen a desk at the back of the class, the one nearest the door for easy access in and out. It also gave her a clear view of the students roaming the halls. Carolee liked to keep an eye on everything and everyone around her.

While her classmates threw paper airplanes and shot spit balls through straws at each other, Carolee analyzed and evaluated the students as they moved through the corridor. No one looked in, their attention either straight ahead or on the room assignment list they held in their hands.

In groups of three and four, her peers filed by, laughing and carrying on like first graders. Then the bell rang and everyone quieted. Moments into the interlude, a lanky kid stumbled by, tripping over his feet before somehow righting himself. Red-faced, his gaze wandered through the open doorway and into the classroom searching, she suspected, for witnesses to the embarrassing misstep.

He didn’t seem to notice her sitting there looking all interested and everything, so to catch his attention, she laughed. A few seconds later, the melodious sound reached him. When he finally fixed his stare on her, his eyes lit up like a one-hundred-watt-bulb, not because she had anything going for her in the looks department, but out of surprise. Still, he hesitated acknowledging her presence. Then, in the next instant, as though he experienced an epiphany, he chuckled.

Carolee’s heart danced, and her mother’s voice sang in her ears, Ma chère, ya don’t come from much, and ya ain’t gonna win no beauty contests, so ya gonna hafta be smart. Git afta what ya want and put dem birthing hips yer Mammy gave ya ta good use.

In the next hours, he was all Carolee could think about. Come last class, she was determined to make him hers. After final bell, she sought out the freckled-faced, uncoordinated young