Troubled waters, p.12
Troubled Waters, page 12
Macey didn’t respond but instead gazed out the window to avoid his eyes and said, “It’s starting to get dark outside. I’d hate for you three to be crossing the river in pitch black.”
Evelyn, having just entered the room, said, “Oh, it’s no big deal. They do it all the time.” She obviously didn’t catch the meaning behind Macey’s sharp look.
Noah took each girl by the hand. He stepped closer to Macey and then looked down at Savannah. “Why don’t you invite Macey to come to church with us tomorrow, Savannah?”
Savannah didn’t have time to repeat the question before Macey said, “Thank you, but I’m leaving early in the morning.”
Noah winked at Savannah. “We’ll pray tonight that she changes her mind.” Then he thanked Evelyn and told her to call him without hesitating if there was anything he could do for her. The three of them left through the back door, and Macey watched as the two girls bounded across the grass and Noah casually strolled behind them.
Blood still oozed from the corner of her thumbnail, now pink and raw. She hardly noticed it. Without taking her eyes off Noah and the girls she said to her mother, “I guess we need to talk money.”
Eleven
She noticed her hands were shaking. With her daughter peering over her shoulder, the tiny key was bound and determined not to slide into the tiny hole. Evelyn tried to take deep breaths, but the key still missed its mark by an inch.
“Here, Mom, let me,” Macey insisted and snatched the key from her before she could try again. Evelyn backed away and sat on her bed, watching her daughter unlock the small safe and open the lid while lecturing her about why she shouldn’t keep valuables in the house, even in a box that locks.
“It’s fireproof,” Evelyn retorted softly, but she doubted Macey heard. She was already going through the contents inside, mumbling about mortgage papers and other things.
Her daughter also asked about balances and stock portfolios. Evelyn’s mind wandered elsewhere. She thought of the letter she’d written a few days ago. For a moment her heart stung, thinking she might have put the letter in the safe, but then she remembered she’d stuck it in the drawer of the table next to the bed. Her shoulders dropped a little, and she simply watched her daughter.
Perhaps they could talk. Really talk. Evelyn could make muffins, and they could sit together on the porch and watch the fireflies dart in and out of sight. Her daughter would leave in the morning and probably never be back. Could Evelyn really live out the rest of her life without acknowledging the past? Without trying to resolve their future?
It was the hateful glare that could instantly pass through the glimmer in Macey’s eyes that kept Evelyn’s boldness in check. She couldn’t bear the rejection, so she sat silently on her bed, hands folded in her lap, listening to Macey talk about things she didn’t understand. What she did understand, though, was the tension rising in Macey’s voice. She tuned in to her words just in time to hear “. . . not a single item here indicating how many assets you have, Mother.”
Evelyn blinked. She reached for the glass of water on the end table by the bed and saw that her hands were still trembling. She attempted a sip but ended up just staring at the water as it swished in the glass.
Macey’s eyes were disturbed. “Mother? Did you hear me?” Macey stood, envelopes and papers bunched up in both of her hands. “We have to get this settled before I leave. Don’t you have any record of your stocks and bonds?”
Evelyn frowned and wondered if maybe she did. She couldn’t remember. Jess never talked to her much about money. He’d always maintained that it was his job to support the family and she needn’t worry about money. There were plenty of other things around the house for her to worry herself about. So she didn’t worry. Not once during the many years they were married. And not once had Jess failed her.
“Well, honey,” Evelyn said, “I think you just worry too much. I’ve always been taken care of. There’s no reason to think I’m not going to be now. The good Lord’s going to—”
Macey’s hands flew up and she closed her eyes, a tense expression flattening her features. “Please, can we just not talk about that? If anyone says another word about religion, I’m going to flip out.” She dropped the papers onto Evelyn’s nightstand and then rubbed her face vigorously, causing red splotches to break out across her cheeks and forehead. “Now,” she continued, her voice low and controlled, “how about a bank statement? Can I at least see a bank statement?”
Evelyn rose and went to the bedroom door, where she’d hung her purse after the funeral. She normally hung her purse off one of the breakfast table chairs, but for the reception she’d brought it upstairs. Her mama had always taught her to keep her purse safe and closed when men were around. She’d taken to heart her mother’s advice, and never once had anything been stolen. Once she thought her coin purse had been snatched, but later she found out it had fallen out of her purse in the parking lot of the old IGA. Another good reason to keep one’s purse closed.
“I don’t know about any bank statements,” Evelyn told her as she dug in her purse, “but this is our checkbook. Will that help?”
Macey took it from her and flipped to the register. Her curled lip released slightly, and her eyes even looked happy. Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief. “Well,” she said, flipping back and forth through the small pages of the registry, “looks like you at least have enough money to get you through a couple of months.” Macey looked up at Evelyn. “Your register shows five thousand, two hundred and eight dollars, plus some change. How much do you usually spend on bills a month?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Don’t know. Your father always did the bills.”
Macey’s eyes rolled in apparent annoyance. “You’re going to have to do it from now on, Mom. Or get Patricia to. But you need to be aware of what you’re spending every month. I know you and Dad own this house and your car, so you don’t have to worry about that. But you have utilities, property taxes, insurance, and of course food and clothing. But I imagine you’re not a big spender.” Macey smiled at her mom, and Evelyn’s heart melted. She nodded in hearty agreement. “Good. Let’s try to figure out how many assets you have and where they’re located, and then we’ll put together an outline of what we want to do with them. I have an excellent financial planner, Mom, and if you don’t mind I’d like to have him look over your portfolio and put together a plan for you. Things are different now, and your money is going to have to last you until you die, which means that adjustments will need to be made. Okay?” Evelyn nodded. Macey continued, “Now, I’d like you to think hard and tell me where Dad might have filed information on any stocks or bonds. Is there a possibility they’re in a safe-deposit box?”
Evelyn scratched her forehead and realized her ankles were swelling, as they almost always did in the summer months. Sometimes even into September if the summer turned out to be long. She shuffled back over to the bed to sit down and remove her shoes. Peeling off one of her knee-high nylons, she looked at Macey and said, “I can’t say that I have any idea where that might be. But I do know the name of our banker. Ira Plato. Very nice man. He can probably tell you more than I can.”
Macey paced the floor of the bedroom. “Mother, I’m leaving tomorrow. You can’t tell me anything about your money? Do you have any idea at all how much you have total?” She stopped and turned to Evelyn, who couldn’t find any words to explain. “Mom, what about savings? How much do you have in your everyday savings account?”
Evelyn pointed to the checkbook. “Well, you already saw that.”
“This?” Macey held up the checkbook. “This is your savings? I thought this was your checking.”
Her other foot invited the air as the second knee-high got removed. She wriggled her toes, turned her ankle from side to side. She should’ve taken the hose off when she’d lain down for her nap. “It’s both, I think. We just put money into the one account and then wrote checks out as needed. That’s all we have as far as I know, but I don’t know much.”
Macey’s fingernails scratched methodically at her hairline. She stared down at the checkbook in her hand. “Okay,” she said in the middle of a sigh, “well, that’s a start. At least I know you’ve got over five thousand to start you.” Macey’s eyes then grew dim with some silent and sudden fear.
Evelyn stopped rolling her stockings together when she noticed her daughter’s change in demeanor. “Macey? What is it?”
With her shoulders hunched, her brow creasing wrinkles into her forehead, Macey slowly lifted her eyes to meet Evelyn’s. “Mom?”
“What? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, dear.”
Macey looked down at the checkbook in her hand. She opened it back up to the register, and it was on the last page where her eyes lingered for a long moment.
Evelyn had no idea what could possibly be causing Macey to react like this. Perhaps there was a subtraction error. She wouldn’t know. She never did anything but simply write out the checks. That’s why, several years ago when they came out with the carbon copy checks underneath, Jess was ecstatic. Evelyn was always writing checks and forgetting to record the amounts in the register. With the duplicate checks, she could just write them and let Jess handle things from there. She guessed she was going to have to start doing the math, too. A heavy sigh escaped unnoticed.
“Oh, no . . .” Macey said, snapping the checkbook closed and lowering her head. “Oh, no.”
“What is the matter?”
The old rocking chair in the corner creaked and rocked as Macey fell into it. She stared at her mother as if she were a stranger. Evelyn couldn’t begin to interpret all this, so she just waited for an explanation, her hands twisting the nylon stockings.
“You forgot to enter the last check written, Mom,” Macey said quietly, obviously assuming Evelyn would catch the meaning. After a few beats, she said, “Don’t you get it?”
Evelyn could only shake her head.
“The last check you wrote was for five thousand one hundred and three dollars, to the funeral home. Don’t you remember? If you wrote a check for fifty-one hundred and three, and you had fifty-two hundred and eight dollars in your checking account, that means you have only a hundred and five dollars left!”
Evelyn sat motionless as her daughter stood abruptly from the chair and started pacing again, mumbling to herself. She didn’t know what to say. She owed the funeral home the money, and they’d always paid people they owed. What else was she to do? Money had been the furthest thing from her mind, and she just figured that Jess had taken care of everything. He always had before.
The skin on Macey’s neck had turned red and blotchy as she sat in the chair again and stared at the ceiling. Evelyn couldn’t quite understand all the fuss. Surely there was money somewhere else. Jess would’ve seen to it.
“Life insurance!” The rocking chair halted as Macey turned back to Evelyn. “Right? Dad had life insurance, didn’t he?”
Again Evelyn had no answers, so she stood and walked to the bathroom to rinse out her stockings in the sink. The thump and creak of the rocking chair started up again, this time at a faster pace, and Evelyn found herself washing her stockings more thoroughly than normal.
But she couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. Finally she laid them over the bathtub, lotioned her hands up, then walked back into the bedroom.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you, dear. But don’t you go worryin’ about me. Everything will work out. It always has. It always will.”
Looking at the floor, Macey said, “I wish I could believe that.”
“Don’t make such a big fuss. I’ll be fine. I don’t want you worryin’ about this.”
“I can’t just leave you in this predicament. I can’t just believe things are going to work out. Things in my life have never just worked out. I’ve always had to work them out myself.” Macey rose from the rocking chair slowly as if an old woman. “I’ll stay until Monday. We’ll meet with your banker Monday morning and figure out what’s going on, and then I’ll talk to my financial planner when I get back to Dallas.”
“You’ll stay?” Evelyn couldn’t hold in her excitement. “Thank you! Thank you!”
Though not warm, a small smile spread across Macey’s lips. She walked out of the room then, closing the door behind her. Evelyn was left standing in the middle of the hardwood floor. Soon she heard another door open and close again. Her daughter’s bedroom.
Evelyn went back into the bathroom, shed her clothes, and struggled to put on her nightgown, her muscles aching and uncooperative. With a little wiggling and twisting, the gown slid down over her large body. She blotted away her forehead’s perspiration and began applying her night cream, welcoming the familiar scent. The mirror, however, angered her. She smoothed the thick cream into her sagging skin, wishing it did everything it promised. But the wrinkles told the tale of all the worrying she’d engaged in through the years, while the dark circles under her eyes mirrored the recent days of grief. And the rolls under her neck exposed a few too many pieces of apple pie.
She brushed her teeth, not as thoroughly as normal but good enough to make her feel she was ready for bed. The nap earlier had taken the edge off her tiredness, so she took a minute to arrange some things around the bedroom, fold the quilt her mama had made for her, and count out her vitamins for the next day. After these were done, she couldn’t find one other single thing left to do in the room.
She decided to listen to some music and went to the old record player in the corner. Squinting to read the label of the record already on the stand, she decided to just play the thing and see what came out. Kenny Rogers. He was singing about being a gambler, and Evelyn chuckled to herself. It must’ve been a year since she’d played a record. She watched the black disk spin smoothly around and around, then decided to move the needle ahead four notches. It had been a long time, but she knew the album by heart. There was a pause, followed by the low, guttural yet soothing melody of “Desperado,” which instantly filled the room and helped to relax the tension built up in Evelyn’s shoulders. She sat on the edge of her and Jess’s bed and listened to the music, the vivid memory of her husband’s burial but a day ago pressing heavily on her mind. A few tears escaped, but she let them. She reckoned these wouldn’t be the last.
She forced herself to think of the good memories of Jess, and as “Desperado” ended and “Don’t Fall in Love With a Dreamer” began, Evelyn lay back on her pillow, pulled her feet onto the bed, clasped her hands together, and resolved to sleep in this room tonight. A part of her wanted to go downstairs with her mama’s quilt and sleep on the couch, but she would have to find the courage to face her fear, so she prayed silently that the room wouldn’t feel so empty. Then she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep on top of the comforter, mouthing the melody about love and dreamers.
———
“Don’t act like this isn’t a big deal. It’s a big deal.” Macey held the cell phone close to her ear. The reception was terrible, but Macey felt glad to be able to get a connection at all. She was in the middle of Toto land, for crying out loud. “Speak up. I can’t hear you. . . . What? . . . No, I’m fine, and I’m not being demanding.”
Macey listened to Mitchell try to explain that a couple of more days off would be just fine as she leaned an ear against her bedroom wall. She swore she had heard “The Gambler” playing earlier, only now the wind had picked up, so she could only make out faint murmurs of music.
“Alexis is filling in for you and she’s doing great. So there’s no need to hurry back.”
Macey hardly heard a word Mitchell said. “It’s just that my mother is in this apparent financial situation,” she said, “and you have to know my mother—she’s clueless about these things, and I can’t just leave here without helping her sort it all out.”
“It’s fine, Macey,” Mitchell said again, and Macey could hear the microwave beeping in the background. Mitchell, having never been married, always ate dinner late and could barely fix a meal even when using the microwave.
“Another frozen dinner, Mitchell?”
“What else?” he replied, and then the phone fumbled a bit on his end, and she smiled, knowing he was trying to handle a hot tray.
“I can be in by Tuesday. Make sure you tell Alexis that. Are you listening, Mitchell?”
A pause, a clanging of silverware, and another beep, followed by, “Yes, yes. I’m not a two-year-old. You don’t have to repeat yourself. Jealousy, by the way, does not become you.”
“What?” Macey stopped listening for music at the wall and paced the length of the bedroom. “What on earth would make you say that?”
“Because, Macey, you’re obsessing about taking time off, and instead you should be concentrating on your family situation. Quit worrying about how much time Alexis is spending at the anchor desk. She’s a reporter, not an anchor, and everyone here knows it. So just let it go and do what you need to do.”
A tight heaviness pressed against the inside walls of her chest, and she made herself do her breathing exercises briefly before she responded. “Mitchell, this has nothing to do with Alexis the Lexus, and you know it. I hate being away from work. I always have—”
“Because you’re a workaholic.”
“Which has taken me to where I am today, and I won’t apologize for it. Just tell Alexis the anchoring’s over Monday, and that I’ll be back in Tuesday.”
“Fine, fine. You’re the boss.” He said this sarcastically, as he always did, and Macey smiled again.
“Don’t I wish it. Has New York called?”
“Twice.”
“Twice? What did you tell them?”
