Assault and Batting

by Rothery, Tess

  “Taylor?” The voice might have been the crank from two days ago, but it was hard to say. He didn’t sound angry when he said her name.

  “Yes, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

  “This is Dave Kirby, Colleen’s husband.” His voice could have been the angry man, but this time he sounded kind.

  Suddenly the message came roaring back to her, the way it had said “I’m not letting that little” …little what, girl? Sister? Had the caller been talking about Belle? Had Colleen’s husband called to yell at her about Belle? “What can I do for you?” Her words were correct, but her tone was guarded. She stood and moved to the doorway, not sure if she wanted to go into the hall to have a private conversation with this guy or not.

  “Colleen and I are taking the boys to Neskowin to spend some time at the beach—we have a place there. We wanted to invite you both. For the weekend, if you’d like, but even just dinner,” he continued in the same tone, soft, kind. Welcoming.

  Amara came into the waiting area and nodded at Taylor.

  “I’m so sorry, Dave, I’m about to go in and talk to my lawyer. So much to do since Mom passed. Like, the lawyer literally just came out for me. Will you text me the info so I can call you back after I check our schedule?”

  “Will do.” He sounded relieved.

  “Thanks so much. I appreciate it.” Taylor ended the call and followed Amara to her office.

  Though small and with an indifferent view, Amara’s office felt substantial. The wall of legal books and solid wood furniture helped, as did the deep green velvet drapes. Large potted ferns with the gleam of real live plants stood in the far corners of the room on either side of the window.

  “Thanks so much for coming down.” Amara sat in an old-fashioned, wooden desk chair.

  Taylor took a seat across from her. The chair matched the one out in the waiting room and felt solid.

  “What I said on the phone about guardianship and probate being slow is really all there is to say. By the time any of you come before a judge, she will be living on her own, handling her own finances, and half way through university. No judge will demand she suddenly be under the care of a woman who has no relationship with her.”

  Taylor let out a breath. “But there’s no reason for her to get emancipated?”

  “No.” The corners of Amara’s mouth turned down. “But if she requests it, there will be no reason to deny it.”

  Taylor laced her fingers together. “I guess it’s up to me to make sure she doesn’t feel like she needs it.”

  Amara nodded, her eyes round with sadness. “I don’t want you to worry about it. At least not right now.”

  “You look like you have something else for me to worry about instead.”

  Amara let out a long breath. “This is the will. I know I gave you a brief rundown after the funeral, but it’s time we discuss it in detail, and privately.”

  Taylor found her eyebrows drawing together in the start of a pinching headache. She made an effort to relax.

  “The first thing, as an old friend of your mom, I need to say that she dearly loved Belle.”

  Taylor smiled, but it felt tight. “That goes without saying.”

  “Money has a way of tearing apart good relationships and so I want you to look this over with me to see if we can figure out ways to prevent that.”

  Taylor closed her eyes for a moment. There was no avoiding the headache.

  “First of all, as you now know, Belle was never adopted. Laura was just her legal guardian. As such, she was not in a position to name a legal guardian on her demise, and so didn’t. She did recommend you, but that doesn’t mean much.”

  “Yes. I get the picture.”

  “And that recommendation is the last place your sister is mentioned in the will.”

  Taylor stared at Amara, waiting for her to explain what she meant, but she didn’t. She just looked across the desk, her carefully coiffed head tilted ever so slightly, the corners of her mouth still turned down.

  “I briefly showed you your part in the will, but it’s time to talk about Belle. Laura made the will a couple of years ago.” Amara spun a page of paper her direction. “I explained to her at the time how disastrous it would be if something happened, but she just laughed.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Mom.” Taylor’s eyes refused to focus on the text in front of her.

  “She was laughing at the idea that anything could happen to her.”

  “It still doesn’t sound like Mom. Explain to me what you mean by Belle not being mentioned in the will.” Taylor set the papers back down and shoved her shaking hands under her legs.

  “You’ll need to read that eventually, but I can summarize. Laura left everything to you. The businesses, the house, all of her belongings and investments, the insurance policies. She made the note that you were who she recommended to look after Belle. The implication is that you would use the family resources to do so.”

  “Absolutely. None of this is for me.” Taylor pulled a hand out and waved it at the paper.

  Amara smiled, but her eyes were still sad. “You sound just like her, you know?”

  “How do I fix this?” Taylor looked at the paper again, but the words were a blur of legalese three times worse than any business jargon she had learned in school.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. When Laura made the will, she didn’t know that Belle would start college early.”

  “I’ll take care of her college fees. That’s a given. Half of all of this,” Taylor poked at the disastrous paper, “belongs to my sister. How do I make it legal?”

  “We can do that. We can make her a partner in the business and split the assets. That would be fair minded and generous of you.”

  “And yet your voice tells me it’s not wise.” Taylor’s mind went to the several hundred thousands of dollars of YouTube money sitting in the bank. It was for college, and part of it would be a massive advertising campaign as soon as Taylor had time to plan it.

  “Belle is a genius, but that isn’t the same thing as being mature, or wise. I would not split any cash with her right now.”

  “So, a trust?” This wasn’t bad. It all made sense. Trusts were things people had. Belle could have one. Taylor repeated it over and over to herself. This was a problem, but she was a problem solver.

  “That is what I would recommend.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And you should put the money for her college in a trust as well…in good faith.”

  “Obviously. That money is for her and her alone.” Her dream advertising campaign seemed to dissolve in the air, but maybe not. It wouldn’t take three-hundred-thousand dollars to put a genius through a couple of years of college.

  “I can make a plan and present it to you. If you’d like to split the assets directly in half, we’ll need to have everything appraised. Then you can split the current value of the items rather than each having half a share in the house and having to worry about buying the other out.”

  The house.

  “What about Grandpa Ernie?”

  “He wasn’t in the will either. You’ll have to sit with him and discuss his finances. I’m not his lawyer.”

  “He’s a partner in the business.” Taylor closed her eyes and tried to remember how her mom had explained the shop to her when Taylor was in business school. She was vague about it. Ernie and Delma Baker had founded the business. They had made Laura part owner after your father passed.”

  Then over time and retirement and death, Grandpa’s share had decreased, but her mom had never told her by how much.

  “No, he’s not. He gave it all over to your mother when he retired.”

  “She hadn’t told me that.” Taylor crossed her arms, not out of defiance, but to keep herself still, and to feel like she was a solid person and not in the middle of some bad dream.

  “I can see how it might not have come up. This can all be complicated to understand. Give yourself time.” Amara passed her a s
lick navy blue folder. “All of the information is summarized in that report. I’m making it sound more difficult than it needs to be. When businesses are involved, the total value of an estate can seem daunting.”

  “You seem like you have more to suggest.” Taylor didn’t open the folder yet.

  “I suggest you look carefully over the approximate value of all of the assets, and then look at the expenses to run those assets, such as the business and the house. You’d need to do that, I think, to get a fair split of assets.”

  “Flour Sax could be a white elephant?”

  “Yes, it could.”

  They both looked at the blue folder.

  “Alternatively, your mother had one generous life insurance policy. Five-hundred thousand dollars. You might consider putting that policy in the trust for your sister.”

  The slick blue folder crinkled in Taylor’s grip.

  Amara was right.

  That would be the best way to correct her mom’s terrible mistake. “I could tell her that Mom expected me to run the business and finish raising her, but that the life insurance was special for Belle’s inheritance.”

  “She may not believe you.” Amara scrunched her mouth up, in a look of frustration. “But it still seems like the kindest thing to say.”

  “It’s worth the risk.” Taylor sat up, correcting her posture and feeling the strength that came from it.

  Amara and Taylor locked eyes. They understood each other.

  Her mother had left such a terrible will because she hadn’t expected to die. Ever, apparently. At least Taylor hoped that was the reason.

  * * *

  Taylor worked till closing time that evening. Seeing the lawyer was an item off the to do list, but like so many of those kinds of items, it only led to more work.

  Roxy had handed her a flyer before she left that informed her of the meeting of the Quilt Shop Guild that evening.

  Taylor didn’t want to go. First, their use of the word guild was both pretentious and wrong, so she didn’t want to be a part of it. Second, shoppers kept coming into Flour Sax carrying bags from the other shops and leaving without buying anything. Why would Taylor want to team up with her competition?

  Quilt Shop Row, or the south side of downtown Main Street, boasted four unique stops for quilters. Bible Creek Quilt and Gift was the first. Though Bible Creek that ran around the edge of their town was named for a pioneer salesman, AS Bible, Bible Creek the store leaned heavy into Bible related merchandise. If it was fun for church ladies, they had it. Bible Creek Quilt and Gift shared a wall with a book store—new and used.

  Next came Dutch Hex, the little shop that wanted to be the cool, goth Amish version of Flour Sax.

  A vacant storefront and The Tillamook Cheese Factory Outlet gave Flour Sax a little breathing room from the competition. Flour Sax stood right on the corner of Main Street and Love.

  In one direction, Love Street led to the Quinn house and Comfort College of Art and Craft. In the other, it led to the k-8 school and the high school.

  Flour Sax was the first quilt shop in this town, but their position as the third on Main Street was bad for sales. Always had been.

  The last quilt shop on the road had popped up about five years ago and seemed to have a strong presence. Quilters made a point to make it all the way down to Comfort Cozies because they gave free wine samples and sold souvenir glasses for fifty cents. Comfort Cozies was nestled between The Yarnery and the post office. The last little space on the strip was a store that catered to Scouts and hobbyists.

  Her mom’s aesthetic both as a quilter and shop owner was strong. The vintage print thing had been really hot for a long time, but seemed less popular now. Taylor longed to use what she had learned ordering fabric for Joanne’s to update their stock. She didn’t want to alienate their loyal base, but their loyal base couldn’t keep the shop afloat. It wasn’t like she’d quit stocking the thirties reprints they were named after, but they needed to branch out.

  As much as she didn’t want to hobnob with the Guild, she knew she had to. She locked up, sent a quick text to Belle, and called Grandpa to let him know where she’d be.

  “Aren’t you picking me up?” he grumbled.

  “I can. Do you like Guild meetings?”

  “A bunch of young ladies making terrible decisions for their businesses and my town? What’s not to love?” He sounded like he loved it, despite the gruff words.

  “I’ll be right there.” She stopped off at the house where Grandpa was waiting for her in his suit jacket and best shoes.

  “Let’s go prevent foolishness in the business world.” This time, there was no doubt. The smile on his face indicated the Guild meetings were a favorite of his.

  * * *

  The quilt shop owners met in the town hall, a small board building with a western façade that was original to the pioneer days. The library next door matched. They were only a couple of blocks from her little house, so Taylor and Grandpa Ernie walked.

  Taylor had, like any kid, wanted to live in one of the faux craftsmen houses in the new development by the old mill rather than the little, real craftsman house so close to Main Street, but now that she was an adult, she saw great value in being able to walk just about anywhere she needed to be. Especially since Belle was out somewhere with the car.

  Taylor walked arm in arm with Grandpa, his slow steady gate was about how fast she wanted to show up there anyway.

  “Grandpa, we need to talk about finances. Mom didn’t leave a lot of notes.”

  He huffed into his mustache. “What do you need to know?”

  “I feel like a nosey barker,” Taylor used one of his favorite terms for a gossipy old lady, “but I think I need to know how your finances work. I’d hate to leave important bills unpaid.”

  “My money is my business.”

  “Indeed, and there’s no one I’d rather have in charge. But I bet Mom knew all about it, and now…”

  “You’re not your mother.” His mood was souring, and they were almost to their destination.

  “No, I’m not, but I do have to do her job. Can’t you help me a little?”

  He huffed or grunted. Whatever you’d call it, it was the old man version of Belle rolling her eyes.

  Taylor helped him up the wooden steps to the Town Hall.

  “Listen young lady, you mind your business and I’ll mind mine.”

  “Yessir.” Taylor opened the door. She wasn’t giving in just yet, but she didn’t want to bring the fight to the meeting.

  She hadn’t been in the Town Hall since Belle’s bridging ceremony from Brownies to Girl Scouts. Belle quit Scouts that winter, in time to not have to sell cookies again.

  The room was exactly the same but decorated differently. Taylor stood near the door and looked around. Three large quilts hung from rolling displays creating a cozy nook for a round table. To one side was a table that appeared to hold potluck cookies and two plastic water pitchers. It also held a Kleenex box with a sticky label on it that said “DUES.”

  “Pay up, young lady. Have to keep in good standing with the Guild.” Grandpa shuffled into the center of the group. Three ladies came to him, arms out, cooing. No wonder he loved this group. Her mom’s rival, Shara from Dutch Hex, remained seated. She wore a Wednesday Addams-like black dress with white Peter Pan collar. Her hair was rolled into a low bun at the back of her neck, and like all costumed women, she had big dark glasses on. Taylor couldn’t see her shoes, since she was seated at a table covered with a long piece of batik quilting fabric, but she would bet money Shara was wearing Doc Martens.

  A motherly woman with a large bosom and sparkly flowered top took Taylor’s arm and led her to the table. She placed a brochure in front of her. “That’s just a little something to explain how all this works. I’m sure it’s terribly different from the corporate store you used to work for.” There was just that something in her tone that made Taylor’s old corporate job sound like something she should apologize for. “Tonight, June will
be presenting new business.” She indicated the woman helping Grandpa to a seat. “She has a midsummer idea for us. We want to keep the meeting short and sweet to honor your mother.”

  June was her mom’s age. Her pale skin was soft and glowing, just the slightest bit of wrinkling around her mouth that made her seem older. She wore a button-down cambric shirt with an embroidered Comfort Cozies logo on the shoulder.

  A lady wearing a Bible Creek Quilt and Gift shop polo shirt with “Carly” embroidered in a curling font, brought Grandpa a plate with a lemon bar, a chocolate chip cookie, and handful of pretzels. “Must keep your energy up, Handsome,” she simpered.

  The motherly woman who had taken up her cause sat between Taylor and Grandpa Ernie. The rest of the group filled up the eight seats—the owner of each shop and a plus one, Taylor supposed.

  Carly called the meeting to order. They made quick work of “old news” with embarrassed faces when mentioning the loss of Laura Quinn to their group. Carly stopped after the old news was approved and looked to Taylor. “We want to have a memorial for her, if you’d let us, but it’s so soon. We didn’t want to pressure you and yet her passing had to be addressed today, you understand.”

  Taylor nodded and waved a hand feeling vaguely like Princess Diana.

  Carly’s eyes glowed, possibly with unshed tears, and she sat.

  June stood. “Christmas in July.”

  The folks around the table who were not Grandpa and Taylor murmured happily.

  “We didn’t do it last year and I think we all know how that went.”

  A slender man possibly in his mid-thirties had the seat next to their rival, Shara. He chuckled. His plaid shirt was too vivid to be a Dutch Hex employee, so Taylor guessed he belonged to Carly, who sat on his other side. Maybe her son.

  “It’s a great old stock event.” June continued.

  “Oh, definitely. One of the best we do all year. And we all know what a bother old stock can be, don’t we? I say we should do something like it on New Year’s too….something with our unsold fall stock maybe? What do you think, Ernie?” Carly smiled at Ernie.