Rache

Rache’s lawyer was fat. He probably weighed 400 pounds. And he was wearing a full suit. I guess Rache’s funeral stuff was a big deal to him. We were in a little room on the ground floor of the nursing home that was made up like a boardroom. There were only four of us in the room, me, the lawyer, whose name was Jason Graham, and two women in their thirties in power suits. He wasn’t very old, though, not fifty, and his hair was dark, and parted precisely on one side. He wasn’t sweating, or anything. He was just… big. The two women were Important people from the nursing home that I had never seen before. I guessed she gave them money and they had to be there to receive it.

“This is a very simple will, really,” he was saying. “We don’t have thirteen grandchildren, all with their lawyers here, ready to fight over every word, so I won’t confuse you by reading it to you right here. I’ll just tell you what it says, and if you have any questions, we can work those out.

“Miss LeMontre didn’t have any living relatives. When she moved into the West Hills Manor Home about three years ago, she liquidated the bulk of her estate, everything except what she kept here at the home. Those personal effects are going to go to Elizabeth here, to do with as she sees fit.”

Jason Graham nodded and smiled at me in a grandfatherly way, which would have worked if he had been my grandfather. I blinked several times. I didn’t actually expect to get anything. I mean, I guess I heard people say it so often, that I was the closest thing to family that Rache really had, that it was like, “yeah, yeah, I know. Whatever,” but now they were actually putting me in charge of her stuff, and it was like, “this is crazy.”

Mom woke me up this morning. Mom is never home when I get up in the morning. She has to be at work at like six o’clock or something

“Lizbeth, get up,” she said. “Your lawyer called.”

“What?” I said. I never wake up when I’m told to. It’s against the rules. But that got me. “I have a what?”

“You need to be at the nursing home at 11. They’re going over things and you need to be there.”

“At eleven? That’s an hour before I’m getting up.”

“Not today!” she said. Mom is always way too cheerful in the morning.

She turned on the lights. I hate it when she turns on the lights in the morning. You have to get up out of bed to turn them off again. Usually I just try to sleep with the lights on when she does that. But when I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head, she walked in after me. I groaned.

“Rise and Shine!” she beamed. I groaned again.

“Mom! Get off of me!”

“Are you awake yet?”

“Get off of me!”

“Are you awake?”

“No. Go away!”

“Not until you’re awake!” I turned my head and squeezed my eyes tight.

“Alright! I’m awake. What do you want? Gosh!”

“A lawyer called. Teddy or something. They’re having a meeting at the nursing home at eleven and you need to be there.”

“What time is it?”

“Nine o’clock.” I groaned again

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work or something?” I asked.

“Honey, it’s Saturday. I don’t have to be at work till four.”

“Oh,” I said. “*When* do I have to be there?”

“Eleven,” she said.

“Wake me up at ten thirty.”

She wouldn’t let me sleep, though. She made me get up, made me put on a dress, made me wash my hair. She almost made me bring her along.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I said. “It’s not like I’m getting married or anything. It’s no big deal.” She looked disappointed. “I’ll pick up my picture of her great aunt Lucille or whatever, and they’ll tell me when the funeral is, and I’ll come home. It’ll be like eleven thirty, or something. It’s no big deal.” But now they were putting me in charge of all her stuff. I didn’t know where I was going to put all of that…

“… so the funeral will be set for Tuesday, at the West Hills cemetery, at three o’clock. I understand the Home here has their own minister? Good. If there are any questions or complications I can be reached at…”

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“Was I unclear, Miss Terres?”

“Um,” I said. “I think I faded out there. Somewhere around ‘personal effects.” Jason Graham smiled at me like he was my grandfather. Again. My grandfather died when I was fourteen. He had a closed casket at his funeral.

“Nothing you need worry about, Miss Terres,” he said. “Just clearing up some technical details for the funeral. Would you like to have a moment on Tuesday to say a few words for the departed?”

“I… don’t think so.”