Christmas Box Set

by Nella Tyler

  I drove to the bank, arriving just before my scheduled appointment at 1. The manager was ready for me and took me back to her office immediately. She introduced herself as Jessica and got right to business as soon as we were seated on opposite sides of her desk. She brought up my accounts on her computer with a few taps of her keyboard.

  “So, I understand you’re considering selling your business, is that right?” Jessica asked, her eyes pinned to the screen as she navigated through her system. The screen was turned away from me, but I could see the changing reflections in her glasses.

  “Yes,” I said. “It was my husband’s business and I’ve been keeping it going since he passed—” Jessica looked up sharply at that, but I kept rolling, not wanting to give her the opportunity to express her condolences over my loss. I knew people meant well, but I was so weary of hearing the same thing from every person I met and talked to for more than five minutes. “I want to start working towards getting my teaching certification and decided to sell because I can’t do both. But first I need to know how things stand with all the accounts and what I can afford to do.”

  Jessica nodded professionally. “That makes perfect sense. Let’s take a look at your personal accounts first.” She tapped away on her computer and turned the screen slightly when she was done so I could see what she was looking at. “You’re doing quite well with your checking and savings accounts.”

  “I don’t want to touch any of that life insurance money.”

  “Well, you seem to have plenty of available cash in checking and not many bills at all. Let’s switch over to your business profile.” She tapped some more as I waited patiently. I hated constantly worrying about money. Was this how BJ felt all the time? I hoped not. I felt wracked with guilt anytime I spent more than a few bucks. It wasn’t like I was going to end up on the streets, but the nonstop stress was killing me. Mom had offered her place a few times a month since BJ died. I was thinking seriously of taking her up on it. I knew Brian Sr. would never ask me to leave the house where BJ and I had lived as man and wife, but it was beginning to feel profane now that Banks and I were dating. I was glad to be with him, but we couldn’t keep hanging out in the house that my dead husband had built with his bare hands.

  “Okay, here are the trends over the last year for the first of your business accounts,” Jessica said, pointing to the screen, which showed a complicated-looking graph.

  I frowned. “The first of my accounts?” I asked. “There’s only one business account.”

  Jessica shook her head. “No, there’s this main one that seems to handle all of your expenses and money earned for services. It looks great. You’ve stayed in the black for the last several years. Nothing to worry about here.” She tapped away on her keyboard again, and the screen changed to another graph. “This account appears to just receive large deposits periodically every few months.”

  “What’s the balance?” I asked.

  “Fifty thousand, three hundred dollars and seventy five cents,” she replied.

  My mouth dropped open and it took a moment for me to catch my breath. Where the hell had this money come from? And why didn’t I know about it?

  “This account is in my name?” I asked.

  Jessica nodded and then pushed her glasses up the small bridge of her nose. “It’s a joint account in your name as the beneficiary and Blake Wheaton and Brian Bowling Jr.’s name as joint trustees. Now, obviously, only Mr. Wheaton is the trustee.”

  My stomach tightened into a hard knot and I had to swallow the rising venom in my throat to speak. Banks was involved in this? And BJ? “When was the last deposit into this account?”

  Jessica played around on the keyboard again, bringing up another screen. “It was a few weeks ago.” She mentioned the date, which was the Monday after Banks picked up the Series 60. Once I heard the date, I already knew how much the deposit was going to be, and that only infuriated me even more than I already was at the discovery of this secret account. “The deposit was $3,000 even.”

  That was the exact amount Banks had won at the fall classic car show. He’d given me his prize money without even asking first. I didn’t need his money or his pity.

  I was numb with fury, and had to squeeze my hands into fists in my lap to get them to stop shaking. I hadn’t been this upset in a long time, probably since the police called on that fall afternoon to let me know that my husband had just been involved in a fatal car accident. But it wasn’t sadness this time. And it wasn’t just Banks who was to blame. BJ had set all of this up without even telling me, like I was some poor defenseless little girl who couldn’t take care of herself after he was gone. Had either of them ever respected me at all? Or had they really seen me as incapable of living my own life?

  I didn’t want to let on to Jessica how angry I was. I swallowed it back, saving it for later when I’d get Banks on the phone. I wanted to calm down before then, but I knew I’d still be hot as hell under the collar.

  Jessica and I went through a full assessment of the business, and things looked good. I would definitely be able to sell and have enough to live on while I earned my certificate and found a job. She printed some of the information we’d gone over, including the last two years’ worth of statements for the hidden account, which showed regular deposits every six months, each one several thousand dollars. It had continued regularly after BJ died, meaning Banks was lying to my face every time we spoke. It didn’t matter that I’d never come right out and asked him if he was hiding something from me. Lies of omission were still lies.

  I left the bank and went back to the shop, unable to get anything meaningful done because I was fuming. I couldn’t even feel relief that I was clear to start my plan to get back to my dream of teaching. All of this was Banks’s fault. And BJ’s. I couldn’t let him off the hook so easily just because he was dead. I felt like a terrible person for even thinking that, but I was so livid it was hard to really think.

  I forced myself to get on task. I had accounting to do before I went home. I was nearly done with it when I realized that I only planned to do it today because of the trip I was taking to Italy with Banks. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to go with a man who would sneak behind my back and deposit money into some secret account. He couldn’t respect me much if he was doing something like that. Or else he thought I was in need of his charity. Maybe BJ had sworn him to secrecy, but BJ was gone and we were together now. Or were we. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to continue dating after what I’d learned at the bank. At the very least, Banks owned me an explanation.

  I quit for the night around 6 and drove home. I was still so angry. I didn’t know what to do. I’d packed my bags the night before and they were sitting neatly by the wall in my bedroom. The entire house had been cleaned as well in preparation for it being vacant for a week. I called Eliza, needing her levelheaded advice more now than I ever had in all the years we’d known each other. But it went straight to voicemail.

  “Shit,” I muttered. She was probably out on a date. It was one of the few times she didn’t answer her phone. She worked as a dental assistant during the day and had even been known to answer her phone in the middle of a cleaning. I hung up without leaving her a message. She’d seen the missed call and get back to me when she could. I’d promised Banks last night that I’d call him before I went to bed tonight, but I didn’t trust myself to talk to him. I hadn’t been this pissed off in years. The two most important men in my life had gone out of their way to treat me like a child. I just couldn’t let that go.

  After pacing my house and finding random projects to keep myself occupied until I was able to think more clearly, I finally gave into my flood of torrential emotions and called Banks. It was just after 9:30 and I hadn’t sat down once since getting home. I collapsed onto the couch as the phone rang. I waited for it to go to voicemail, ready to leave him an earful, but then he answered, sounding half asleep.

  “Hello?”

  “Just who the hell do you think you are?” I asked
in a strident tone.

  “Maggie?” He cleared his throat. “What’s wrong?”

  “I found out about the bank account today.”

  He didn’t answer, which only kicked my fury up a notch. My extremities felt numb again, like this constant current of emotion was costing me physically as well as mentally.

  “The one you and BJ hid from me.”

  He made a sleepy sound, but I could tell by his continued silence that he knew exactly what I was talking about.

  “What gives you the right to go behind my back like that?” I demanded to know. “I don’t need your charity money, Banks. I don’t care how rich you are.”

  “It wasn’t charity,” he said. Now he sounded wide awake. Good. “BJ wanted to set up an account for us to put all the proceeds from car shows. It was a rainy day fund for the shop. We opened it years before he met you. But once you married, he wanted it to be there for you in case anything ever happened to him.”

  “I don’t want that money, and I hate the thought that you and BJ were lying to me for years.” I was furious to realize how near tears I was. I wiped at my eyes and willed the tears back. I didn’t want to be sad right now. If I had to be anything, I wanted it to be pissed off.

  “No one lied to you, Maggie. We just didn’t tell you about the account.”

  “That’s still a lie, especially now that BJ is gone. Why can’t you see that?”

  He stayed silent, which only pissed me off more.

  “I don’t need your goddamned money.”

  “Maggie—”

  “I told you before we started any of this that I didn’t want your pity. And yet here you were giving me money like I was some helpless damsel in distress.”

  “That wasn’t what I was doing,” he insisted. How was he being so fucking calm? That just got me even hotter.

  “You know what, Banks? I don’t need this. I don’t want your pity and I don’t want your money. You’re taking back every cent. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t need that money, Maggie. And BJ helped earn every penny by working on those cars. It’s all the proceeds from the classic car shows we entered.”

  “Over $50,000?” I asked. “Bullshit.”

  He didn’t confirm or deny that. But not speaking was its own answer. He was still lying to me, even now when I’d found out about the secret account. If I couldn’t trust him about this, I couldn’t trust him about anything.

  “Go to Italy by yourself, Banks. We’re done. I’m not going to date a man who doesn’t respect me enough to tell me the truth.”

  He started to say something, but I hung up the phone. When he called back a few seconds later, I turned the phone off. For the first time in weeks, I curled up on the couch in front of a roaring fire and cried myself to sleep.

  Banks

  Saturday

  I sat down at the gate in JFK International with my large coffee but ended up just tossing it into the trash untouched when they started boarding first and business class for the overseas flight. They’d have more on the plane if I changed my mind. The short jump from Connecticut to the city was uneventful, and I was looking forward to just getting through this trip and returning home again. All my excitement for it was gone. Maggie never answered my calls after our argument about the bank account last night. I’d tried more than 20 times, but it just went to voicemail. I left a few, begging her to just give me a chance to explain, but she never responded. I sent at least a dozen texts as well, but those also went unanswered. In the end, I had to try to get what sleep I could manage and then get up as planned in the morning. I drove straight to the airport instead of swinging by Maggie’s place to pick her up. I considered still driving by there, but didn’t think that was a great idea. She hadn’t minced words last night, making it quite clear that she had no intention of accompanying me on my trip to Italy. I’d either have to postpone the trip or go alone. In the end, I chose to go. I needed the break from work and I wanted to see the Alfa Romeo, even if it did feel like a knife was twisting in my gut at the thought of going without her.

  I boarded the plane slowly and without much enthusiasm, my computer bag slung over one shoulder. Since Maggie hadn’t shown up, I was seated next to the window with no one in the aisle seat. I put on my seat belt and looked out the window at the overcast morning. The weather in Italy was supposed to be cold but bright and sunny. It was really a shame that Maggie wouldn’t be over there with me. I’d planned so many things for us to do and had made reservations at some of the top restaurants in northern Italy. I’d even booked a spacious suite at the hotel that I’d now be sleeping in by myself.

  Once all the passengers were on board, we taxied to the runway and took off. I watched the land quickly disappear as we ventured over the Atlantic Ocean, all that blue water hypnotizing me the longer I stared at it. But the gray clouds got thicker, hiding the ocean, and I pulled out my computer. I had plenty to do and could probably get through the better part of it now that I was traveling without a companion. I worked for several hours, only looking up to accept a drink or a meal from the uniformed flight attendants working first class.

  We landed in Frankfurt after more than eight hours in the air. I hadn’t slept a wink, which was pretty typical for me. I’d make up for it in the hotel. I deplaned with the rest of the first class passengers and went to the gate where I’d catch the flight into Torino. I didn’t have long to wait. Before I had much chance to get comfortable, they were calling for first class to board. That flight was only 45 minutes between takeoff and landing in Italy. It had been a few years since I’d been in this country, and I wanted to enjoy myself as much as possible. I’d sent Maggie a long email on the flight to Frankfurt. So far, she hadn’t responded. Not that I really expected her to. I imagined things were over between us. She was just that kind of person. BJ had made it clear that she valued trust above all else, and I’d ruined that without really meaning to.

  I picked up my bags, put on my winter coat and hat, and hailed a taxi. After a short ride through the city, I arrived at my hotel and checked in. The room was much larger than was necessary for just me, but I crashed gratefully into the king-sized bed, pulling the blankets over my head to seal out the world and all of my problems in it. I slept until morning and woke without a sign of jetlag. I ordered room service—a cappuccino and a selection of airy breakfast pastries—and sat in front of the large balcony, relishing the view even as I mourned the loss of Maggie in my life. The suite seemed even bigger this morning, and it was lonely with just me in it. I didn’t want the embarrassment of downsizing at the front desk, though. They’d want an explanation and anything I had to say would sound really pathetic. I’d just need to grit my teeth and get through it. There was plenty to do in this country. Keeping myself busy and out of the hotel would help.

  I took a scalding hot shower, shaved, and dressed, feeling better already now that I was moving and had the bare bones of a plan. I had a meeting scheduled with Mr. Mantovani—the man who owned the Alfa Romeo—in two days. He lived about 45 minutes away from the city at the foot of the mountains. I didn’t particularly care for driving in Italy. I’d been in a terrible accident involving a Vespa, a city bus, and my rental car the last time I visited, and therefore planned to just take a cab everywhere. Better to let the local experts handle driving on their home turf. It really didn’t make that much difference in cost, considering how expensive gas was over here.

  Now that I was dressed, I didn’t want to spend another moment in this enormous and empty room. I put the Euros in my wallet, put on my jacket, and stuffed my knit cap and gloves into opposite pockets. I left the room and rode the elevator down to the lively ground floor. I strode outside into the cold air and put the knit cap and gloves on. The hotel was in the center of downtown Torino. There was plenty to do here—museums, cafes, the bustling shopping district. I could even take a taxi to some of the smaller towns I’d investigated while planning this trip, thinking Maggie would be by my side and would want to go on some
adventures, just the two of us.

  I decided to start with a walk, heading towards the Mole Antonelliana, which I could see from where I was standing, the giant tower shooting up from between other large buildings. I’d never been to the National Museum of Cinema that was housed in that building, and thought that was a great place to start this solo visit to the city. I could make my rounds of the museums, castles, and churches, though my all time favorite Italian cathedral was still the Duomo in Milan. I had two tickets to Don Giovanni playing at La Scala, but without Maggie here, I wasn’t motivated to leave Torino. I’d just kick around here, staying busy and having as much fun as I could while I burned through the interminable days of this vacation.

  The museum was impressive. I enjoyed the interactive exhibits and following along with the history of film, which I hadn’t really known much about. My Italian was extremely poor, so I required one of the English headsets. It was a bummer to walk through such a lovely museum alone, but it sure as hell beat moping around at the hotel. I kept checking my phone for texts or calls from Maggie. Jane texted. So did my parents, but that was it. I had a flood of work-related emails that I ignored. I’d deal with them back at the room after I ate. I’d kept all my dinner reservations—except the one in Milan, which I canceled since I no longer planned to take a train ride there—and planned to just eat alone. Italian cuisine was fantastic and I wanted to at least enjoy that part of my trip.