The Clarkl Soup Kitchens

This book is a work of fiction. Places, events, and situations in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

© 2004 by Mary Carmen. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

Contents

Colin C. Rodriquez’s First Letter from Clarkl
             
1

Roberta Newcastle’s Diary
             
2

Richard Crosslyn’s Journal
             
53

Sarah Hope’s Jottings
             
103

Oscar Wright’s Daily Record
             
153

Harvey Hallorin’s Memoranda
             
202

Colin C. Rodriquez’s Final Report from Clarkl
             
253

For MAIZ, with appreciation

Roberta Newcastle’s Diary

This diary is the private property of Roberta Rachel Warner Newcastle. It is not to be read by others.

January 7, 2137
 

I put Harry into his grave yesterday. Nobody told me what a good man he had been or what a good father to our children he had been or what a good provider he had been. Most of the chatter at the viewing was about how brave a fireman he had been, continually taking absurd chances to make a rescue that would give him another two minutes of news coverage.

Tomorrow the twins will go back to college, and their sister will go back to her husband’s home in
Canada
. I will be alone with my memories of Harry and about $100,000 in unpaid loans.

January 8, 2137
 

The house seems strangely quiet, after the week of visitors. The minister from the church down the road called to say he would drop in tomorrow, and Helen came by to help herself to the leftovers. Too much pie, too few vegetables. Why do people think of pie for the bereaved?

I need to get all the financial papers organized, but I am terrified I will find even more of Harry’s chaotic bookkeeping. Jake said he would help with the lawyers, but I can’t let him see how destitute I am. I have to put a good face on my situation for Harry’s sake. Certainly Harry always did.

January 9, 2137
 

The Reverend Roland Wade arrived at
10:00 a.m.
, in a roadster much more expensive than anything I could afford. He was carefully dressed, too, something we Methodists are not used to with members of the cloth.

“I always wanted to stop by,” he said, “especially after Mr. Newcastle was given that special commendation by the mayor. How proud you must have been of him.”

“Oh, yes,” I admitted, wondering how soon he would get to the point of the visit.

“Our thoughts have been with you since he passed away,” he continued. “Mine and Martha’s, I mean. We always take a moment before breakfast to remember the friends who have gone on, and we have added Mr. Newcastle to our prayers.”

“Thank you.”

He sat down and agreed to take a cup of coffee. He smiled while he talked, and I wondered how tired his face would be at the end of the day.

“These are unhappy times, I know,” he continued. “Your children are out of the nest, and your partner has gone home to Jesus.”

“Yes, quite unhappy.”

“I hope Martha and I can call on you when you are up to facing visitors,” he said. “We want to tell you about our New Christian Congregation’s work.”

“In a few months, perhaps,” I told him.

After fifteen minutes and two cups of thirty-dollar-a-pound coffee, he was gone, back down the road. I waved from the front window and returned to my desk.

Today I discovered the worst of Harry’s financial mistakes, the two loans he cosigned for his sister, adding about $20,000 to my liabilities. Patsy will never pay these off, and the loan company will look to this huge house that was offered as collateral.

So far, I have found liabilities, including the mortgage, of $237,341 and assets of $242,000. My income from the annuity the city will buy as Harry’s death benefit will pay me about $3,000 a month. My expenses will surely run $2,000 a month, what with two children in college. Even if I could touch those trust fund accounts, which I cannot, I would still want to direct the proceeds to the twins’ educational expenses. If I sell the house and pay off the liabilities, I will face a significant tax bill. If I wait eight years until I am 55, I will be in even worse financial shape. I have no training for any profession, and I know taking hourly work will cost me more than it will pay.

I feel a chill running down my spine every time I look at these numbers. What was Harry thinking about? Did he have some stash I have not yet uncovered?

January 31, 2137
 

A trip to see the lawyer today. I stuffed all the financial records into a small suitcase and braced myself for the worst.

“I never took any interest in the family finances,” I told the lawyer. “Harry did all that.”

He nodded and said, “I see that story every day. Sometimes it’s a woman and sometimes it’s a man. I’ve put my kids through school by sorting out these kinds of messes.”

I started to shake, rather noticeably. How many of his tuition bills was I going to pay for?

“Is there a form I fill out? Something I can work on at home?” I asked.

“Oh, no, don’t worry about anything like that,” he assured me. “Our office is prepared to handle this paperwork. You just relax.”

I was turned over to a very no-nonsense young woman who pawed through my bills and statements, asking an occasional question. What was the current balance of this? What was the annual return on that?

She made notes on a long sheet of green paper and transferred some numbers into a computer. Finally, she listed four documents she needed that were missing, and I agreed to search for them and bring them to her within a week.

Gone was the soothing charm of the lawyer. I was at the mercy of this forthright person who assumed I was there for business. I continued to shake.

February 26, 2137
 

The lawyer’s invoice was in the mail today. My liabilities have increased by $2,000.

My first check from the annuity company arrived today, too. It was less than I had expected. Harry assured me he bought all the life insurance the city offered him, but the annuity company believes otherwise.

March 12, 2137
 

Alice
called with an invitation to lunch, Dutch treat. I assured her I was too busy.

I can’t avoid friends forever. How can I tell people Harry left me nearly destitute? I am entirely out of coffee, and I have no money to buy anything except the absolute necessities.

March 27, 2137
 

Back to the lawyer today for the bad news.

“We need to think creatively,” he said. “The estate is essentially a negative number. If you sell the house, you can pay off all the debts, but you will have nothing left to pay the capital gains. If you don’t sell the house, you can’t service the interest on the debts.”

I sighed. I had come to the same conclusions two months before, at no expense to myself.

“We need to consider employment,” he said. “What is your profession?”

I admitted I had no profession. Harry and I had married when I was very young, and he assured me he wanted to have me at home with Susan. When the twins arrived seven years later, any plans for my entering the workforce had to be postponed.

April 9, 2137
 

Captain Wilkenson dropped by the house today to give me the last check.

“Sorry it has been so long in coming,” he said. “The department had to calculate all the vacation time Harry earned and all the time he had taken. Things are so complicated, and paperwork gets lost frequently.” He looked very miserable, as if accounting for vacation days were his worst problem.

“I appreciate your bringing it to me personally. So kind of you,” I blathered.

“I should have come by before, I realize, but things are so busy. This terrible heat has had everything so dry, and we just don’t have the staff to handle all the calls.”

This was no news to me. The last four years have been the hottest on record in
Ohio
. The polar icecaps were at about half their usual size, and winter was almost nonexistent.

Of course, it is bad form to complain about your troubles to a recent widow. Captain Wilkenson quickly remembered his manners.

“I hope you are doing okay,” he said, hanging his head a little bit. “Harry was one of the best, and I expect he had faith in you to carry on.”

With this comforting statement, he took his leave.