Finders Keepers (31 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
Jessie sat on the stoop in the warm June sunshine. Earlier she'd loaded her bags into the cargo area in back of the Jeep. She'd said her good-byes to Mrs. Fisher earlier. Her car was parked at the curb. A glance at her watch told her she had a little over an hour until it was time to leave for the airport to pick up Tanner. They would get married in a five-minute ceremony and leave from the courthouse for Florida.
It was a quiet street, and she was going to miss it and the old brownstones that were so carefully tended. The trees on both sides of the street were full and beautiful, creating a tunnellike atmosphere. Umbrellas were never needed on a rainy-day walk to the corner to catch the streetcar. She looked up and down the street hoping to see someone she at least had a nodding acquaintance with. Someone to say good-bye to. There was no one. She felt like crying when she realized she would probably never return to this house. It wasn't that the house was special, it wasn't. Living here had given her a measure of independence. She'd paid the rent, cooked her own meals, cleaned the apartment. She'd gone to school and held down a full-time job. And now she was giving it all up. A strangled sound escaped her lips as she watched a man exit his car across the street. She frowned. He looked so familiar. He seemed to be studying the house numbers as though he were looking for someone. And then she recognized him.
“Mr. Mendenares! I've been calling for weeks. Do you know where Sophie is? You didn't have to come all this way. You could have called me. It wasn't an emergency. You know, a real emergency. Sophie and I always promised each other we would never be more than a phone call away. I thought you might know where she is. She was supposed to get married last week. I went to the house in New Orleans and waited. I got the garden ready and everything. I know I'm babbling here because I see something in your eyes I don't like. Why did you come here? Did something happen to Sophie? Is she hurt? I don't think I can handle any bad news, Mr. Mendenares. I really can't.”
The moment the attorney started to speak, Jessie clamped her hands over her ears. A second later she was off the stoop and running toward the park. When she couldn't run any more she sat down on a wooden bench. Almost immediately she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I didn't want to put it in a letter. I knew you would have questions. I am so very sorry.”
“What are you talking about? Where's Sophie? Why did she go into hiding?”
“Sophie's dead, Miss Roland.”
“Don't tell me something like that. I don't want to hear that. Do you hear me? I don't want to hear that!” Jessie screamed.
“I'm sorry. There was no other way to say it.”
“I'm getting married this afternoon. Sophie is only a year older than me. She's too young to die. Sophie . . . Sophie had things to do and places to go. She always said that. Tell me you're lying.”
“For your sake, I wish I could. It was an accident. At least the authorities think it was an accident. Speaking for myself, I'm not sure.”
“What kind of accident?” Jessie whispered.
“Sophie had a very hard time accepting her mother's death. She couldn't comprehend how such an accident occurred. She decided to drive the route herself, in the same kind of car, driving at the same rate of speed. At the precise area where her mother went over the cliff, she went over. The driving conditions were exactly right, the time of day was to the minute. The reason I say I think she planned it is because all her affairs were in order. Everything was taken care of.”
“Not everything. She didn't cancel her wedding. She didn't call me or write.”
“Oh, but she did, child. I was with her the day she called Mr. Dawson to tell him the wedding was off. She even wrote out a check for me to forward to him to cover what she considered his loss. She very conveniently left her handbag in my car when she started out. I was to clock her trip. It was all a ruse, and I was stupid enough to fall for it. I never thought . . . I should have . . . Anyway, inside her purse was her will, a letter to you, and a package of bubble gum. It's all in my car.”
“You think Sophie killed herself. She would never do that. She came to terms with her mother's death. She said she loved Jack Dawson. She was going to open her own offices. When . . . when did she . . . ?”
“Two days ago.”
“When is the funeral? I won't believe this until I see her . . .
laid out
with my own eyes.”
laid out
with my own eyes.”
The attorney waved his arms. “She's everywhere. She, like her mother, wanted to be cremated immediately. It was spelled out in detail in her will. She didn't want you to suffer through something like that. She told me once she thought funerals were barbaric.”
Jessie's shoulders slumped as sobs ripped through her body.
A long time later she managed to say, “Why? I need to know why?”
“I don't have the answers you're looking for. I wish I did. Perhaps they lie in the letter she left for you. Sophie's will is a simple one. She left everything to you. It's all spelled out in the will. This is not the time or the place to discuss business. Whenever you're ready will be time enough. In the meantime it will be business as usual. I think I should tell you that Sophie opened offices all around the world. There aren't many, but they are scattered. She wanted something that was a little more than storefront. She opened such an office in the French Quarter. She bought the building outright. The taxes have been paid. If one were to enter the building, it could be anything. I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I feel compelled to tell you. There is a like building in downtown Corpus Christi. I've taken the liberty of writing everything down in longhand for you. I did it on the flight to the States. I'll be sending you a more formal version later on. I think it might be best if things went to the Atlanta house for now. We'll use it as our base. Changes can be made later on. Where will you be living, Miss Roland?”
“Corpus Christi, Texas. I'm marrying Senator Kingsley's son Tanner.”
“Yes, yes. Sophie did mention that to me.”
“What . . . what should I do, Mr. Mendenares?”
“Grieve. It's all you can do. Time won't stand still, so we have to get on with the business of living. If there's anything I can do, call me. Walk back to my car with me so I can give you Sophie's purse. It's in my briefcase.”
“Sophie was my best friend.”
“And you were hers. She chattered about you constantly. She said you were in love. She was so happy for you.”
“That's the second time in her life she was wrong. I'm not in love. I'm pregnant, but I'm not in love. The first time she was wrong was when she misjudged Jack Dawson.”
“I see. She told me about Mr. Dawson and what a clever fortune hunter he was. She did love him very much. She thought she failed herself.”
“You said she was paying him off. Why? How much?” Jessie asked, her eyes glazed.
“She said he worked so hard to con her, his efforts should be rewarded. A million dollars. To someone like Mr. Dawson I imagine it's a fortune. To Sophie it meant nothing. It was her slap in the face if you know what I mean.”
Anger roared up Jessie's spine. “A million dollars as a reward for lying to Sophie. For cheating her of something she had every right to expect. Do not ever try to tell me it's the same thing as Sophie not telling him she was rich. It is not. I know how she agonized over the decision not to tell Jack Dawson. She's not . . . wasn't the liar. She chose not to advertise her wealth. Don't pay it. Rip it up. Another thing, find someone else to give her wealth to. I have enough problems as it is.”
“It doesn't work that way, Miss Roland. I believe you heard me when I had this same exact discussion with Sophie a few months ago. If my memory serves me correctly, you looked at Sophie and said, âit is what it is.' I now say that to you.
“I will rip up the check with great pleasure, Miss Roland. If you wait just one moment, I will give you Sophie's purse and my notes from the plane.”
Jessie gulped back her tears when she reached out to accept the expensive Chanel purse. She brought it to her cheek. It smelled like Sophie. “I don't know what to do, Mr. Mendenares,” she wailed.
The lawyer slid behind the wheel, but not before Jessie saw the tears in his eyes. “When I don't know what to do about something, I do nothing,” he said. “I don't know if it's good advice or not. I'll be in touch. Be happy, Miss Roland. Sophie wanted you to be happy.”
Jessie crossed the street to her own car and climbed inside. Her yellow wedding suit was mussed and wrinkled, a gray streak of dirt on the skirt. She waited until Arthur Mendenares's car was out of sight before she broke down completely, her body shaking convulsively, her hands beating at the steering wheel until they became so painful she had to stop. She reached for the black quilted bag and held it over her heart.
“I hate you, Sophie Ashwood, for doing this. Do you hear me! Now you are never going to see my child. I wanted you to be the godmother. Sophie, why? Why?
“I need someone to tell me what to do. I can't do this myself. My whole world is falling down around me. God, Sophie, why, why, why?”
Read the letter already. All you have to do is open it and read it.
Jessie looked around, certain someone had said the words aloud. It took her three tries before she could open the intricate clasp on the handbag. The scent of Sophie's perfume and the sweet smell of the Bazooka bubble gum assailed her nostrils. She unwrapped one of the pieces and popped it in her mouth. She chewed vigorously so she wouldn't cry, which was probably Sophie's intention from the git-go. First she read the will. It was just as Arthur Mendenares had said. Sophie's entire fortune was left to her with the exception of sizable bequests to numerous servants around the world who had been pensioned off. She now owned everythingâreal estate, yachts, planes, cars, islands, shipping tankers, businesses. She got dizzy reading the list. For a simple will it totaled fifty-six pages and was dated exactly three weeks ago.
Read the letter already. All you have to do is open it and read it.
Jessie looked around, certain someone had said the words aloud. It took her three tries before she could open the intricate clasp on the handbag. The scent of Sophie's perfume and the sweet smell of the Bazooka bubble gum assailed her nostrils. She unwrapped one of the pieces and popped it in her mouth. She chewed vigorously so she wouldn't cry, which was probably Sophie's intention from the git-go. First she read the will. It was just as Arthur Mendenares had said. Sophie's entire fortune was left to her with the exception of sizable bequests to numerous servants around the world who had been pensioned off. She now owned everythingâreal estate, yachts, planes, cars, islands, shipping tankers, businesses. She got dizzy reading the list. For a simple will it totaled fifty-six pages and was dated exactly three weeks ago.
Jessie folded the will neatly before she slipped it back into the legal sleeve. Her fingers struggled with the gummed flap of the personal letter. It felt so thin. Thin meant only a few words. Thin meant one piece of paper. “Oh, Sophie, you owe me more than one skimpy piece of paper,” she blubbered. The bubble gum was sticky-sweet in her mouth. She did her best to blow a bubble but couldn't.
Time lost all meaning for Jessie as she finally ripped at the envelope and yanked the two thin sheets of paper free. She forgot about her wedding, about picking Tanner up at the airport.
Sophie's writing was small, cramped, supposedly a sign of an introvert. Sophie had a knack for shooting down any kind of myth that could even be remotely attached to her.
Jessie smoothed out the letter in her lap because her hands were shaking too badly to hold the letter. She chomped on the gum, her eyes wet.
Dearest Jessie,
If you're reading this letter, then you know I'm no longer on this earth. Hopefully, if God is in a kind, gentle mood, He'll let my spirit mingle with my mother's. Don't cry, Jess. Keep chewing that gum, and you'll make it through this letter. That's why I put it in my purse.
I don't want you beating yourself up asking the whys of it all. It is. Or, should I say, was? In no way are you to blame Yourself. You are, I know it. It's all fucking bullshit, Jess. I've been on the edge too long. My mother's death pushed me right to the brink, and I tottered for a while. I might have been able to pull back if Jack had been who I thought he was. He had some scam, Jess, and I fell for it. I never let him know I found out how he set me up. When I bolted, he thought the wedding was still going to come off. I thought he would get in touch with you, so I faded out of your life in order not to put you in a position where you had to lie. If nothing else, I have true, loyal friends. Each and every one of them passed on your messages. Including Arthur. I know you went to Atlanta and New Orleans. I have the letters you left behind right here with me. I love you, Jessie Roland, for always being there for me. Guess what else I know. I know that you are expecting a baby. Yeah, I've had a tail on you since the beginning of the year. I think it's wonderful. You will, too, when you get over the shock. I know you're going to marry Tanner. If there's a way to make it work, I know you'll find it. I know also that you are going to make one hell of a mother. You're going to be the mother you and I never had. See, one of us got lucky.
I want you to have a good life, Jessie. I know you're going to miss me, but time will help. I'll always be with you in spirit. You know that. What you have to do now is believe it. You know what we always said, it's not enough to persevere, you must prevail, which is just another way of saying it doesn't matter where and what you came from, it's where you're going and how you get there that's important.
Jessie, I am giving you one whole day to grieve for me. Not one second longer. It's one of my last three requests of you. That was number one. Number two is that you go back to New Orleans and do that Sophie and Jessie thing. Every single thing we did after my graduation. I want you to make a day and a night of it. Laissez les bons temps rouler. The last thing I want you to do is a little more taxing. Blow me a bubble and stop the wailing.
I don't know if I have the right to ask this of you. I want you to do something for me that I never got to do. It doesn't have to be now, anytime will do. Build me a bridge, Jess. I know I'm leaving everything in good hands. Be happy, dear friend.
Gotta go now, Jess. My mother's waiting for me.
All my love and affection.
Sophie
Sophie
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