Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [117]
“Yeah, they get it on like rabbits.”
“You’re truly demented.”
We went up the stairs, I unlocked the door, turned off the alarm, and we dumped all the catalogs on the kitchen counter. An envelope fell out with my brother-in-law Mark’s office address on it.
“Hey, Patti? Do you know why Mark would be writing to Aunt Daisy?”
“Nope.” I handed her the envelope and she looked at it for a minute. “Let’s open it.”
“Are you crazy?” I said. “Aunt Daisy would have us arrested, after she kicked our butts the whole way to Iowa, that is.”
“Yeah, she’d keep the cast on for that one. But what is Mark doing that he’s not telling me about?”
“I don’t know.” I thought about it for a minute. What was Mark up to? “We could steam it open with the teakettle. I’ve done that before. You know, open it very carefully, read it fast, stick it back in the envelope, and iron it to reseal it?”
“Iron it? Nah. I never iron,” Patti said. “I’ll get the kettle going.”
So, there we were in Aunt Daisy’s kitchen like a couple of middle-school truants, waiting for the water to boil so we could see what that letter from the school principal was all about.
“So you really don’t know why Mark’s writing to Aunt Daisy?” I said.
“Nope. I don’t have the first clue.”
The kettle started pouring steam and I picked up the envelope.
“Well, we’re just gonna find out,” I said, and held it near the spout.
“Don’t get it wet!” Patti said. “The ink will run!”
“Quit stressing and get a knife.”
When it seemed loose enough we laid the envelope on the counter and carefully ran the knife between the flap and the envelope, pulling it ever so slowly and gently until it was open. Patti pulled out the contents. As she unfolded the letter, a check fell out, falling to the floor. I picked it up. It was a certified check for $100,000 from Aunt Daisy to someone named Heather Parke.
“Who the heck is Heather Parke?”
Patti was reading and practically gasping for air at the same time.
“What? What does it say?”
“Oh my God! It was for that woman, that woman with the baby! Look at this!”
I stood next to Patti and read.
Dear Aunt Daisy,
I am returning your check because after a lot of thought, some mighty serious soul-searching, and lengthy conversations with Addison’s attorney Mel and his accountant Dallas we all agree that Heather Parke is entitled to nothing. Your generous offer to give her this money would only be the beginning of a life of torture for you and for Cate, because we are certain that she would return time and again to try to extort more money.
History is replete with Heather Parkes, young women who make poor choices and wind up with unexpected dependants and eventual disappointment. Addison died bankrupt. If he had nothing to leave his wife and legitimate heirs, why would this woman and her bastard child be entitled to anything?
Let her file all the lawsuits in the world. In Mel’s opinion and in the opinion of his partners, her suit is without any merit whatsoever and would be thrown out of court. And Dallas, his accountant, says he will sign any papers necessary to show that Addison was indeed not only bankrupt but in such financial ruin that it is unlikely he would ever have been able to earn enough to satisfy his debts and be solvent again. Finally, you most certainly have no obligation to this woman. But your generosity is a testimony to your special nature and it is what makes us all love and cherish you so . . .
“That little bitch! Did she contact Aunt Daisy directly?” Patti said.
“She must have!” I could feel my head starting to pound. “I’ll kill her with my bare hands!” I meant it.
“We’d better put this back, Cate.”
We quickly refolded the letter with the check and slipped it back in the envelope. Of course the glue had dried and wouldn’t stick. Patti grabbed it and licked it, leaning on it with the heel of her hand to secure it. Finally, it worked in some places and the envelope didn’t look as though someone had tampered with it too badly. I hoped Aunt Daisy or Ella would just rip it open and not give the seal much attention.