Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [91]
“Thanks, honey. That makes me feel much better. What time is Mr. Risley supposed to show up? Your table looks very nice, by the way.”
“Well, thanks. Amazing what you can buy at the grocery store these days. He’ll be here in an hour.”
“Well, I’d better skedaddle and let you young people have your night.”
She turned to go but I could see that she was filled with anxiety.
“Ella?”
“Uh-huh?”
“I don’t want you to worry tonight, about Aunt Daisy, I mean. Let me worry for you.”
“You’re a sweet girl, Cate. That’s a nice thing to say.”
She went out the door and I followed her to the front stoop.
“Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will.”
“And thanks again for the pie!”
She waved at me as she pulled away, leaving me to stew over the frailty of her position in the world. She had come here with Dr. Harper’s number, prepared to ask me to step in and get involved with Aunt Daisy’s health care. Life partners. That’s what they were but saying they had a life partner didn’t mean they didn’t need anybody else. Had Aunt Daisy provided for her? I mean, was there an insurance policy naming her as the beneficiary? A will? Would she be able to stay in the house? Would it belong to her? How many houses did Aunt Daisy own at this point? If something happened to Aunt Daisy, which I could not fathom, would others step forward to put a claim on Aunt Daisy’s assets? Like the IRS? Would her estate be obliged to pay exorbitant estate taxes because she had not put her affairs in order? Who was her executor? And, most important, how in the world did you approach a subject like that with someone who might be very ill but was as belligerent as Ella described? You did it tomorrow, honey. You approached these kinds of things delicately and with all the sensitivity you could muster. Tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I had a chicken in the oven and I was in need of a fast bath. My first thought was that if I ever had any money again, I was getting a place with a shower. Baths made a mess no matter how careful you were.
I dressed myself, after a careful but generous application of whatever body moisturizer they were selling in the bomb shelter–size for the least amount of money and targeted spritzes of the last of my Chanel No. 5. It wasn’t going to waste. I wondered if there was a generic version of it out there in the world I could find for less. Not that I was so worried about my resources yet, but it couldn’t hurt to be vigilant about these things.
Risley wasn’t due for another twenty minutes so I decided to use the time to call Dr. Harper. I pressed his number into my keypad and, to my surprise, he picked up.
“This is Tom Harper,” he said.
“Dr. Harper? You probably won’t remember me but I’m . . .”
“Cathy Mahon? Caller ID, you know. The nice girl who ran off and married that old geezer? Addison, right?”
“Yeah, well, that old geezer bit the proverbial dust and I’m back in town.”
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t know . . . please accept my apol . . .”
“No, no, it’s okay. Really.” I stopped for a second and remembered I was a widow, not someone on a travel spree, dropping in on relatives for the fun of it. “Anyway, I’m calling you about my aunt Daisy.”
I told him what Ella said and he was quiet.
“Could be anything. Why don’t you bring her around in the morning and let me look at her. I’ll do some blood work and we’ll see what we’ve got going on.”
I heard John’s car door close. He had arrived. I opened the front door for him and before he reached the house, I thanked Dr. Harper and hung up, promising to be there by nine. I felt so much better.
“Hey!” he said, and handed me a bottle of wine. “What’s happening? Boy! Something smells good. Is it chicken?”
“Yeah, but what about this chicken?”
“I’ve been thinking about this chicken all day,” he said leaning down to give me a kiss. “Where’s the corkscrew?”
“Did you say screw?” I opened the drawer, took it out, and handed it to him.
“Bad girl!” He shook his head, grinning. “You’re driving me a little mad, you know. I mean, there I am sitting at my desk, grading papers on the importance