Patchwork to Healing, page 5
Rebecca’s hand clenched the arms of the chair as the attorney read the typical boiler plate introduction to Norma Getchel’s will. Mr. Howard stopped, made sure he had their full attention, then continued.
“Item one: I, Norma Getchel, bequeath my home, its contents, and vehicle to Rebecca Mills.”
Rebecca felt as if the floor fell from beneath her. Her mind spun with confusion and could barely comprehend the magnitude of the words on the page. “I don’t understand. Why would she do this? Surely, she must have some family or someone more deserving?”
“I can assure you that she has no family, at least not in the traditional sense, and I understand that this is a lot to take in, but if you’ll allow me to continue, Miss Mills—”
“Oh, sorry, of course,” she said, then motioned for him to continue.
“Item two: I, Norma Getchel, bequeath the sum of my retirement account, savings, and checking accounts, to Rebecca Mills. Said accounts will be held in a separate trust and released when, and if, certain conditions have been met.”
Rebecca’s breath caught, and she gasped for air. “Conditions? What conditions?”
Attorney Howard raised his hand. “I’ll explain momentarily, but I must continue.”
“Of course.” Rebecca nodded, but she was having a hard time understanding. He sounded as though she were in a Peanuts episode and his words were unrecognizable mumblings.
“Item three: I bequeath the sum of my stocks, to Benjamin Daly with conditions. Said stocks will be held in a separate trust and released when, and if, certain conditions have been met.”
Ben’s eyes grew wide and he sat up straighter. “I’m with Becky. What conditions and why us? Does she say why?”
“Please allow me to proceed, and hopefully, it will answer some of your questions, but before I continue, you must know that I am Mrs. Getchel’s trustee. Understood?”
Ben nodded and swallowed hard, and Rebecca stared blankly.
“I manage Mrs. Getchel’s funds,” he said awaiting their response. Ben and Rebecca nodding.
“Item four: I, Norma Getchel, bequeath and devise, the full sum of my trust fund to, Rebecca Mills and Benjamin Daly equally and jointly with the stipulation that it is used for the sole benefit of those within the foster care system.”
Rebecca squirmed in her chair. This is too much. I can’t breathe. She had the sudden urge to run.
Mr. Howard scanned the will for a minute, then peeked over the top of his glasses. “In a nutshell, the stipulations say that the two of you,” He pointing to her and Ben, “must develop and operate this entrusted endeavor for foster care kids, jointly, and you have one hundred and eighty days from the date of her passing to abide by the terms, or I, as her trustee, have been instructed to dissolve the trust account, its assets, along with her savings, checking, retirement, and stocks will then be bequeathed to the Office of Child and Family Services.”
Ben shot Rebecca a look of panic before he turned toward the attorney. “But I can’t. I have a life. In Hawaii! What happens if we can’t?”
Rebecca couldn’t take it anymore. She leapt from her chair and paced back and forth like a caged animal. This can’t be happening. Her stomach turned somersaults, and she thought she might throw up. She leaned against the wall and placed her hands on her knees to brace herself for more to come.
Rebecca was lightheaded. She might faint right then and there. She numbly wandered back to her chair. Her mouth was dry, and she couldn’t bring herself to respond when the attorney asked if she had any questions. Her hands gripped the cushioned arms of the chair and she stared blankly at his questioning eyes.
“So, the bottom line is that Becky and I have to get this foster care program of some kind up and running—together, to your liking, within one hundred and eighty days, or we don’t get the money?”
“That is correct.”
Rebecca could sense Ben turning toward her, but she couldn’t move. This was all too much to take in. She was overwhelmed and tried to regulate her breathing. Why? She could feel herself getting even more lightheaded, and she rested her head in her hands. Why would Mrs. Getchel do this?
“Becky, are you alright?” Ben placed his hand on her back. “Beck?”
Some of the tension from her shoulders relaxed, and she finally could bring herself to speak. “I’m okay.” She nodded, as if convincing herself that she was okay. “I still don’t understand why she would choose us?”
“Perhaps this will help explain.” The attorney took out a handwritten note from his file and was sure to capture their complete attention before he read.
Dearest Rebecca and Benjamin,
Have you ever felt something so strongly in your heart that you had to act on it? Well, I have. You may not see your future as I see it, but I know you are the ones to fulfill my greatest desire. I chose you because I believe in you. I ask that you continue my legacy of caring for and nurturing the next generation of foster kids. You can bridge the gap of instability to ability, and I hope that you will also bridge the gap between yourselves.
I know I should never have had favorites, but I knew from the first time I laid eyes on the two of you that you would be just that.
I love you, Rebecca, and Benjamin, as if you were my own daughter and son, and I hope that through this endeavor, you will feel my love and grow to be truly happy.
Norma
Rebecca couldn’t stop the silent tears that slipped down her cheeks. Norma’s words stunned her. She loved me, and I wasn’t there for her when she needed me the most. It didn’t matter that she’d just inherited Mrs. Norma Getchel’s home, its contents, vehicle, and a possible fortune. All she wanted was for Mrs. Getchel to hold her in her arms once again. She’d learned long ago that material things didn’t matter. She missed her dear friend and just wanted her back.
Ben grabbed hold of her white-fingered grip on the chair’s arm. He leaned in and wiped her tears with his thumb. “Are you alright? Do you need anything—water or something?”
“No—yes, I’m okay. I’m just—”
“I know—me too.” Ben squeezed her hand. Rebecca slid her hand out from under his and rested it on her lap. Her feet bounced with nervous energy. She looked in the attorney’s direction as he now continued with instructions. She and Ben collected paperwork and shook hands with the attorney, who then escorted them toward the door.
“What just happened, Benjamin?”
“As God is my witness, I don’t have a clue. I mean, what she did for you, I completely understand. You were there for her. I wasn’t.”
No, I wasn’t. Not when it mattered the most.
Rebecca and Ben stood on the walkway, sleet pelting down on them. Ben’s shoulders hunched over and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Have you eaten?”
Rebecca shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. “No—just coffee. I lost power. It was all I could do to get here on time.”
“What do you say we head over to Rick’s for a bite? We should talk about all of this.” He tilted his head in the direction of the law office.
“I can’t—I don’t—I don’t even know what she was thinking. How could we possibly…” Rebecca was angry at herself, and angry with the overwhelming responsibility that Mrs. Getchel had just laid on them. She didn’t understand why she’d think for one minute that she and Ben could do this. They hadn’t spoken to each other in years. They lived a world apart. She was now freezing. Her mind raced. Ben’s larger-than-life presents stood between she and her car. “I can’t do this.”
Chapter 6
Rebecca considered her options as she and Ben stood outside the attorney’s office. Ben placed his gloved hands on Rebecca’s shoulders and turned her toward him. “Becky, you’re shivering. You probably still don’t have power, and we need to talk about what just happened in there.”
His firm, yet gentle voice brought her to her senses. They needed to talk about how they would navigate this monstrous undertaking together. Going back to her cold apartment made little sense, either. She was hungry. Eating had become a calming force for her. Not in a negative sense, but in how her mom would make her soup and grilled cheese on a cold autumn day. Yes, she thought. A bit of comfort food would probably do her some good.
“Fine. I’ll meet you at Rick’s.” With that, she removed Ben’s firm hands from her shoulders and precariously made her way to her car. It took several tries before her old Toyota started. The engine sputtered, just like her thoughts, as if it too was too cold to function. She waited for the car to warm up before heading to Rick’s. As she pulled into the back parking lot, turned off the ignition she just sat there, trying to force herself to vacate the car. The urge to flee pressed in on her. She wasn’t ready to dissect this monumental situation, especially not with Ben. Not yet. She needed space to understand what had just transpired.
Rebecca reached to turn the car back on just as Ben tapped on her window. She looked up at him through the steamed up side window. He stood with his hands in his pockets and expectant eyes, and she couldn’t say no. She slumped in defeat and placed her key back in her handbag, then retreated from her seat.
“It’s pretty slick.” Ben offered her an arm. “I thought I’d walk with you.”
She looked at his outstretched hand, then glanced down at his feet. “You’re wearing loafers. I hardly think you’ll be able to walk yourself, let alone help me.”
He gazed down at his feet on a thin layer of ice, freezing rain tapping on top of the leather.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You could be right. But the way I see it, we’re in this together. I figure we could hold each other up.”
That’d be a first. Ben’s act of chivalry wasn’t lost on her. He’d abandoned her when she’d needed him the most. “Sink or swim, Benjamin. After all, you’re used to doing things on your own. You don’t need me.”
She was being petty, but seeing him acting all gentlemanly didn’t sit well with her. Rebecca trudged to the main entrance of Rick’s, leaving Ben slipping and sliding behind her. Rebecca didn’t wait for him to be seated and took the table near the old paned windows. She was previewing the menu when Ben stepped in, brushing sleet from his overcoat. She didn’t bother to wave him over; the place wasn’t large enough to require it. He removed his coat and slid between the planked table and large, paned window.
Rebecca removed her hat and set it on the chair next to her, then shrugged off her coat and rested it behind her before once again reaching for the menu. Ben burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Rebecca asked, irked he could find anything funny on a day like today.
***
Ben bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. He didn’t mean to laugh at her. In fact, she couldn’t have looked more adorable. Her dark hair was an absolute disaster. It lays flattened, actually, more pasted at the top of her head where her hat had covered it, and a clumpy mass of a mop below. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even in her disheveled mess, she melted his heart. By now, her deep green eyes narrowed at him.
“You might want to um…” He gestured toward the bathroom door that stood about fifteen feet behind her, then pointed to his head. She brushed her hand through her hair and urgency flashed across her face.
“Oh! I lost power when I was in the shower—I, um.” Before finishing the sentence, she slid her chair back, nearly toppling it over, and scampered off to the restroom, latching the door behind her.
Ben asked for a couple of coffees. He wished they’d ordered before he’d said anything about her hair, but if she’d realized it any later in their brunch, she’d have been even more embarrassed. That would just have added to the many reasons she shouldn’t give him the time of day. And they needed to talk about Mrs. Getchel’s will.
Ben leaned forward, playing with the paper from his straw. He reran the events of the morning in the attorney’s office. Mrs. G. had left him a decent sum of money, with the caveat that he and Becky create a program. A foster program. What does that even mean? This so-called venture could mean so many things and he wished Mrs. G. had given them more guidance. This would not happen. He had a life outside York Harbor, Maine. He didn’t have time to delve into some kind of crazy venture, nor did he have the desire. The only connection he wanted, when it came to the foster system was to never look back.
The bathroom door squeaked open, and Rebecca shyly peered out from behind the door. She ran her hand through her hair and sat down.
“You’re an ass,” she said before looking him in the eyes.
“I’m sorry I laughed. It’s just that you looked—”
“Horrific. Go ahead and say it. I looked like a clown, Benjamin Daly, and you laughed at me!” She leaned forward and now spoke in a more quiet voice. “Out loud, in public!”
“Yes, I did, but you looked so damned cute. I couldn’t help myself.” He also couldn’t help but grin as she cracked a smile.
“I’d hardly say I was cute, but thanks for bringing the abomination of my hair to my attention.” She picked up the menu and stood it up between them. “I’m starving.”
They ordered and gulped down coffee before a word of what the attorney had told them came up. They agreed they had no idea what Mrs. Getchel had been thinking to give them what she’d given them, and hadn’t a clue regarding the foster care situation, but thought they needed to give it some time to adjust to their situation. When they’d finished eating, silence fell over them. Ben shifted in his seat and picked up his empty coffee mug to take a drink. He placed it back down and tapped on the side of it with his worn, copper ring, oblivious to the clinking.
Rebecca reached over and steadied his hand. “So, we have a lot to talk about and get through, and yes, we need a breather—over the next week or so—to put some thought into everything that’s been thrown at us. But we shouldn’t drag our feet too long. One hundred and eighty days will go by fast.” Rebecca cleared her throat. “When are you going back to Hawaii, anyway?”
“Soon,” he said, without thinking about his reply. Soon, was the first response that came to mind. Rebecca’s demeanor changed in that instant. She bit her lip and retrieved her purse. She fumbled around in it, then slapped a debit card on the table. “No, I’ve got this, Beck.”
“Nope. We’re going Dutch,” she said coldly.
“Sure. That’s fine—we’ll go Dutch.”
“Of course, it’s fine. I don’t need your approval, Benjamin.” She gave him a questioning look. “How soon is soon? Are you thinking about the next day or two? One hundred and eighty?”
“I haven’t really thought about it. I’ve got to get back for a job that’s been in the works, and I’ve got some things I need to attend to, and—”
“So, safe to say, this week, then,” she said in a voice colder than the sleet outside.
Ben didn’t want to lie, but he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had just happened to them. He needed to get back to work. After all, he’d only come to pay his respects to Mrs. Getchel, and hopefully run into Becky. He hadn’t counted on her gripping him quite the way she had. In this brief time, she’d somehow invaded his mind, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her or his feelings. And now, with this inheritance thing to work through, he didn’t know what he thought. All he knew was that he had a life away from here, so he shook off his rambling thoughts. “Yes, that would be safe to say.”
“Ben, we need to talk about the will. You can’t just run away! Don’t you see? There’s too much at stake. You heard the attorney. We have less than six months to meet Mrs. Getchel’s timeline.”
Her eyes were pleading with him. He’d seen that look before; the desperate need for him to stay. But he couldn’t. “Becky, I have to figure things out with my own life before I—”
“Well, I won’t keep you,” she said through gritted teeth and slapped her napkin on her plate. “I suppose we’ll just touch base somehow, if something comes to mind about the foster care thing.”
With that, she stood and grabbed her coat from the back of her chair, stuffed her hat back onto her head before realizing that she hadn’t given her debit card to the server. She hastily grabbed her slip and headed toward their server, who met her in mid-stride with a smile. The waitress took her slip, then continued toward Ben. Rebecca stood near the doorway to await her receipt.
Ben couldn’t help but watch Becky as she teetered back and forth, avoiding looking his direction. He kicked himself for what he’d said to bring on her change in demeanor. He thought things had been going well until she asked when he was leaving. It never occurred to him she’d be taken aback when he’d said he’d be leaving soon. What did she expect him to do? Drop everything and bend to Mrs. G’s literal will immediately? He was living out of a suitcase, and he had a life away from there. He’d thought she might even be relieved that he’d leave for a while. He had obviously annoyed her, that much he was sure of.
The bright-eyed server brought back his slip, he scribbled on a tip, signed, and pulled on his coat, while Rebecca signed. Ben gave her time to head out, then realized that she’d beat him to their cars sooner anyway, knowing that his shoes were more like skates. He didn’t relish the thought of walking across the iced parking lot again.
Ben was right. She was at her car before he’d even climbed the small exterior stairs. They’d salted and sanded the parking lot while he and Becky ate breakfast. He pulled up his collar and waved his goodbye as Rebecca drove by him. She hadn’t even glanced in his direction. Unbelievable. Ben took in a deep breath, exhaled, then surefootedly got to his car, and turned on the engine before realizing that he didn’t have anywhere to go but to his room at the York Harbor Inn, and that didn’t interest him in the least.
