Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance) (17 page)

The next two days followed a similar pattern. Geraldine sat on her
“
throne,
”
directing everyone
’
s moves in expressionless grief. One of the first things she did was to send Aggie shopping for funeral dresses for the little girls.
“‘
Nautical would be lovely, Agathena. A true navy looks black, you know, but it
’
s not quite so stark on a child. The children must look their best,
’”
Aggie muttered to herself as she headed through yet another upscale boutique on Geraldine
’
s list. Seeing the prices, Aggie was glad that Geraldine had insisted she take along the Stuart
’
s credit card.

She found a rack of gorgeous dresses. The color was perfect and the style was impeccable. They carried the dresses in every size she needed, but at over one hundred dollars per dress, Aggie was in sticker shock. After looking further, she found a clearance rack with similar dresses and debated within herself. The first dresses were gorgeous; however, the discounted dresses were also very nice and appropriate. Hearing Geraldine
’
s voice in her head, Aggie returned to the first rack and picked out the proper sizes.

Before she could pay for the dresses, Aggie heard her purse ringing.
“
What now?
”
she muttered to herself as she flipped open her phone.

“
Agathena, I have been looking at the boys
’
clothing, and they also have nothing appropriate. Do you have a pen and paper handy? I have measurements for you…
”
Aggie grabbed a shopping bag from the rack behind the customer counter and began taking notes. Geraldine was now sending her in search of suits for the boys. Three piece suits, white shirts
,
and red ties. Aggie wondered why red ties were so important, but she returned to her now expanded shopping excursion. Aggie learned to despise shopping that afternoon.

Tuesday, February 19
^th

The day of the funeral dawned in typical storybook fashion. The sky was gray and drizzled in sporadic spurts. The snow that had been so pretty and picturesque was now slushy, dirty, mush. The children were squeaky clean in their somber navy clothing with the little touch of red on the boys. They all had a white rose on their collars and lapels and had strict instructions as to when to remove them and place them on the double casket.

Geraldine had wanted a military funeral, in memory of her son
’
s short stint in the navy, but the ever-organized Allie had even
planned
their funerals. It was to be informal, which chafed Geraldine
’
s need for being
“
correct
”
in form. The couple
’
s wishes were honored, and songs of praise and rejoicing were sung about entering heaven, while anyone who wanted to could say something in remembrance of Douglas and Allie.

Wednesday, February 20
^th

Aggie left the law office of Moss and Younger with a stack of papers and in complete shock. Still in the offices, a very upset Geraldine argued with the lawyer. Aggie
’
s parents, the only ones not surprised at the contents of Doug and Allie
’
s will, had left nearly an hour earlier. Seated on a bench at a bus stop, she waited for her taxi to arrive.
“
Guardianship. Of eight children. I
’
m only twenty-two! What was she thinking?
”

“
What?
”
Aggie hadn
’
t noticed the elderly woman sitting on the bench next to her.

“
Hello. I
’
m sorry; I was talking to myself.
”
Aggie opened the manila folder and flipped through the pages.

“
Did you say you were guardian of eight children?
”
The woman was pleasant but curious.

“
Yes. My sister died last week. She had my name on the title to the house to avoid probate problems, she had signed and notarized temporary guardianship papers
--
the works. Power of attorney for the estate… and I
’
m beneficiary of a very large life insurance policy.
What
possessed her to give me this responsibility?
”
The fact that she was dumping her shock on a stranger didn
’
t even register.

“
Do you have parents that can help you?
”

“
My mother has a serious heart condition. She can
’
t handle stress or excitement for long. There is no way she could help. I expected that Allie would leave the children to her mother-in-law, but I have a letter to read from them that should explain why they didn
’
t.
”

“
Are you ready for this? It
’
s quite a responsibility. What about
your
plans for your life.
”

She didn
’
t know it yet, but the woman
’
s question would become one she heard repeatedly over the coming months.
“
You know what? I prayed years ago that if I was going to make a decision for my life that was wrong for me, that God would radically change my direction. It appears that He has. I think my dreams must have been just that. Dreams. I don
’
t want them if they
’
re not what He wants for me, now do I?
”
Aggie realized that her words to th
e woman were really just a self-
pep talk. She turned to look at her companion, but the woman just smiled, stood, and walked away.

Aggie reached her hotel room and flipped through the papers, while carefully avoiding Doug
’
s letter. Eventually, she gathered her emotions and opened the letter.

November 11

Dearest Naggie Aggie,

Well, I won
’
t be calling you that again this side of Glory, but never fear, if Jesus will let me continue on the other side, I won
’
t callously drop your special name. I know how sorry you would be to lose it.

I know you are wondering why I left you the responsibility of our children, and I want to share the story with you so that you will understand and fight for them like no one else can.

My mother was born on what she would call the
“
wrong side of the tracks.
”
Her father left the family when she was an infant, and she grew up in an era where the combination of a working mother, bad neighborhood, and no father meant that she was essentially a social outcast. By high school, she vowed never to live alone or in poverty again. Just picture her as a twentieth century Scarlett O
’
Hara.

Upon graduation, she researched businesses, found a position with Delta Advertising, and worked her way to secretary of the most up and coming vice president in the building. I know it sounds like a pathetic B movie, but it
’
s the truth. Before that vice president knew what hit him, they were married. Enter, Douglass Stuart, nephew of Weston Lyman, Rockland
’
s great advertising mogul. He had everything she was looking for. Family connections
--
boy that sounds like something from 19th century England
--
money, and social status were her ticket to never being hurt, poor or alone again.

My father quickly learned that my mother was determined to control every aspect of their lives in order to accomplish her purposes. Now don
’
t get me wrong, Aggie, Dad and I love Mother. What she does is always because of her love for us, and her fear of the past repeating itself.

Aggie, I cannot allow her to try to raise my children. She would be determined to control the children
’
s lives the same way she
’
s controlled my father and me. Though she puts all her time and energy into controlling the family, she
’
s lazy, Aggie. She doesn
’
t believe she should have to work. Can you imagine how much of the burden of the children
’
s care would be left to Vannie and Laird? The children would feel like they
’
d already raised a family before they graduated from high school. The baby would be neglected. I know it
’
s a lot to ask, Aggie, but the children need someone young enough to have the time and energy for them.

She
’
ll smother the children. You know that we
’
ve tried to shelter our children as much as possible, but she will completely smother them. They will be sent to the doctor for the slightest sniffle. If they want to have a friend over, there will always be an excuse not to do it
“
just this time.
”
If they want to learn the piano, she
’
ll send them to lessons daily and insist that they practice three times a day. She
’
ll send them to boarding schools and then bring them home days later. She professes love for the children, and she does love them in her way, but they will be alternately smothered and then neglected. I know I keep using the word smother but it
’
s the one that really fits.

Aggie, imagine a life where you must constantly keep up appearances. The family must appear to be the epitome of taste, education, and class. There can never be a mistake. If you drop a spoon at the dinner table, it is equivalent to dropping a bowl of hot food into the president
’
s lap. If you have the nerve to sneeze inappropriately, it
’
s a crisis.