Chapter 3 - The Vulture’s Visitation
Three days after the funeral,
the quiet of the marsh was broken by the roar of an engine.
A sleek,
white European sports car pulled into my gravel driveway,
kicking up dust that settled on my blooming azaleas.
Arthur stepped out,
looking as though he were posing for a magazine cover.
He wasn't alone.
Julianna was with him,
wearing a dress that was far too short and far too bright for a woman whose fiancé had just buried his wife.
She looked at my cottage with a sneer of disgust,
as if the very air of my home was beneath her.
“Charles,”
Arthur said,
not even waiting for me to step off the porch.
“We’re here for the girls’ passports and their birth certificates.”
“And the jewelry box Rose kept in the safe.”
I stood my ground,
feeling the weight of the notebook in my pocket.
“The girls are staying here,
Arthur,”
I said,
my voice like grinding stone.
“You made that very clear at the cemetery.”
Julianna stepped forward,
adjusting her sunglasses.
“Look,
old man,”
she said,
her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
“We have a wedding to plan in Maui next month,
and we need to clear out the estate.”
“The foster care agency needs the documents to process the girls.”
“You can't possibly think you can keep three children on a veteran’s pension.”
I looked at her,
and then at Arthur,
who was looking at his watch as if this were a business meeting he was late for.
“I have everything I need to take care of them,”
I said.
“And you’re not getting the jewelry.”
“That belongs to Lucy,
Rachel,
and April.”
Arthur’s face darkened,
the mask of the grieving widower slipping away to reveal the monster beneath.
“Don't be difficult,
Charles,”
he hissed,
stepping toward the porch.
“I am their father.
I have legal standing.”
“If you don't hand over the documents,
I’ll have the sheriff here by dinner time.”
“Go ahead,”
I replied,
crossing my arms.
“Call the sheriff.”
“I’d love to show him the recordings Rose left behind.”
Arthur froze,
his foot hovering over the first step.
“What recordings?”
“The ones where you threatened to make her a memory,”
I said,
watching the color drain from his face.
“The ones where you talked about the merger and the trust.”
Julianna looked at Arthur,
her eyes narrowing.
“Arthur,
what is he talking about?”
“Nothing!”
Arthur snapped,
backing away from the porch.
“He’s an old man losing his mind.”
He turned back to me,
his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and fury.
“You have no proof of anything.”
“We’re leaving,
but I’ll be back with a court order.”
As they sped away,
I saw Lucy standing in the window behind me.
She didn't look scared.
She looked ready.
She held up the final manila envelope,
the one I hadn't opened yet.
“It’s time,
May you like
Grandpa,”
she said.
