by Bobby Akart
Oliver, one of her longest serving geophysicists, who hailed from England, replied, “Good morning, mum. She’s a little gassy this morning.”
The group laughed. Dr. Lansing decided to play along.
“Well, that would make any woman fussy. What exactly did she eat to produce this gassiness?”
“Mum, we’ve recorded a series of quakes along the AFZ in Northern Chile,” he explained. The AFZ was an acronym for the Atacama Fault Zone. Chile was one of the most active seismic regions in the world.
“Can you classify it as a swarm?” she asked.
“Yes, mum. We can. It’s actually triggered some volcanic activity in the region. There are reports of gas and nonexplosive lava emissions around the Puyehue-Cordon Caulle volcanic edifices. The ash from the emissions has floated in a southwesterly direction toward Bariloche in Argentina.”
Dr. Lansing grimaced. Not again. The quaint hamlet in Southern Argentina had been covered in a thin ashy powder mixed with sand and pumice stone just three years prior when the Chilean volcano had a moderate eruption. It was a reminder of how the study of seismic activity can be directly related to volcanic eruptions.
“Okay, keep me posted on developments,” she said with a nod of thanks. “Anything closer to home?”
Another geologist assigned to the Mississippi River Valley region and the Upper Midwest responded, “We have reports of tremors in Chicago as well as Cairo, Illinois. They might be false positives.”
Dr. Lansing smiled. Residents of Illinois and people who studied geography knew to pronounce the city’s name as care-ro, not ki-ro, as in Egypt.
“Ice quakes?” asked Dr. Lansing. An ice quake, sometimes referred to as a frost quake, occurred when rock saturated with water or ice began to crack or expand. The sudden changes exerted on rock formations often generated a seismic warning. It was common for ice quakes to occur in the Upper Mississippi River Valley during the winter months.
“We’re monitoring them now, ma’am,” he replied before continuing. “We’re exploring a possible connection to tremors felt in St. Louis yesterday afternoon. The surface temperature readings don’t suggest a correlation, but we’re exploring it nonetheless.”
Dr. Lansing slowly nodded her head. “Send me everything you’ve got on both seismic events, please.” She wasn’t a believer in coincidences.
Chapter Five
Thursday, December 20
Advanced Retirement Strategies
One Metropolitan Square
St. Louis, Missouri
One Metropolitan Square, commonly known as the Met, was a striking granite skyscraper that had long been an architectural landmark in St. Louis. The forty-two-story, amenity-rich tower housed a wide variety of American and international tenants. Ideal for business meetings, guests were treated to beautiful art-filled lounges, modern workspaces, and twenty-two thousand square feet of retail shops as well as restaurants. Within a ten-minute walk, visitors could see a game at Ballpark Village or enjoy the nightlife at a number of restaurants and bars.
Jack had chosen the Met for his first Advanced Retirement Strategies office location outside Memphis because it provided his firm instant credibility for prospective clients. After he’d graduated from law school at Memphis University, he joined a firm specializing in tax and estate planning.
The U.S. tax laws had gone through a tumultuous decade as the politics in Washington swung from one side of the political spectrum to another. For retirees, or those approaching retirement, it had become increasingly difficult to plan their estates. Jack found a niche in the estate-planning area of his firm and soon became one of the most highly respected lawyers in Memphis for this field of practice.
In college, Jack had been friends with a man and a woman who were studying to become accountants. Eventually, the two earned their CPA designation and opened up their own office. Jack saw an opportunity for the professional fields to help one another. He was astute enough to realize that estate planning and federal income taxation were inseparable. The decisions made by both a CPA and an estate lawyer had a profound effect on a mutual client’s finances.
However, there was still a missing link to the entire process of helping a retiree with their estate planning—investments. By a fortuitous stroke of luck, or the result of an evil curse placed upon him by a cunning witch, Tony Chandler came into Jack’s life by virtue of marriage to Jill’s sister, Beth.
For all his shortcomings, Tony was an expert salesman. And, make no mistake, any investment advisor was primarily a salesman of financial products. Whether it was life insurance, annuities, stocks, or bonds, the investment advisor makes money from commissions or fees while managing his client’s life savings.
Jack saw an opportunity to wrap all three critical aspects of someone’s retirement under one roof, and Advanced Retirement Strategies was formed. It was an unusual type of practice in which attorneys, accountants, and financial brokers worked under one roof to provide their clients a comprehensive retirement plan.
His vision became a huge success. After St. Louis, he rapidly expanded his practice to include Baton Rouge, where Tony and Beth lived following their graduation from Louisiana State University. Later, offices in Des Moines, Minneapolis, and New Orleans were opened.
The firm advertised in local newspapers and online resources for those interested in taking advantage of the unique method of estate planning. Following an elegant lunch, they held afternoon seminars discussing the three aspects of the firm’s practice. Tony handled the investments discussion while a local accountant discussed the tax benefits of the firm’s recommendations. Finally, Jack finished off with the most emotional aspect of the seminar—death.
He’d just finished up their third seminar of the week. In the conference room, Tony was reviewing all of the information provided by their guests, who’d indicated their primary concerns surrounding their individual estates. He was instructing his assistants to call these individuals that evening to schedule free consultations for the next morning if they were interested in the firm’s assistance. Otherwise, he could set up a couple of days between Christmas and New Year’s.
As he excitedly went over the information and organized the prospects from most promising to least, Jack wandered to his office window and stared out toward the Gateway Arch. Officially, the Arch was a memorial honoring Thomas Jefferson’s role in opening the West to the pioneers who helped shape its history.
Jack looked at it from another perspective. The Arch could also be looked at as a monument to a person’s life. We all start from the ground up. As infants, we learn to crawl before we walk. We grow as young adults, find our way in the world, and eventually reach a high point in life that may be defined by our successes financially or through the love of family. As we age, Jack thought to himself, we start to wind down. People, like his clients, retire from their jobs or businesses. Eventually, we all grow old and pass away, returning to the earth from which we started.
His mind wandered to Jill, as it often did throughout the day. He recalled the circumstances under which they’d met. She had been a young mother of two. Her son, Tate, had just turned four, and her daughter, Emily, was still an infant crawling across the floor. She was married to a loving man who was taken from her when a drunk driver crossed the median on Interstate 40 one evening and struck his car head-on. He was killed instantly, and her dreams of a long life with him were crushed.
Jill was at a loss. She tried to lean on Beth, who was nine years younger and still in high school. She was estranged from her parents, who chose a life of political activism rather than raising their children. Jill and Beth had been raised by their grandparents. Primarily their grandmother, who lived in Cordova, a small community just east of Memphis, cared for the girls as they grew up.
Then, within weeks of her husband’s death, her world came crashing down on her again. Her grandmother passed away. Jill was left virtually alone, with a mountain of debt accumulated by her and her husband and no job or life in
surance to pay it. Her grandmother left her entire estate to Jill and Beth. Beth was a party animal at LSU and was not mature enough to receive their grandmother’s home, belongings, or savings.
Jill had nowhere to turn, so she hired Jack Atwood. The two estates were a mess. The debts she amassed with her husband would have to be bankrupted. She’d lose her home and have to find a job to take care of her young children. Her grandmother left a will that required probate and the possible challenge of Jill’s parents, who could suddenly return from Portland to contest the distribution.
Jack saved the day. He shielded the sisters from their parents and managed to shepherd the estate through probate without a lot of legal fees and with minimal tax implications. In the end, Beth received a handsome spendthrift trust that paid her over several years. Jill was deeded her grandmother’s home in Riverwood Farms located east of Memphis in the bedroom community of Cordova.
The happy ending didn’t end there. After the estate was settled in probate, Jack and Jill, who’d struck up a close friendship during the proceedings, began to date. They’d become best friends, and then they became lovers. A year after meeting, they were married, and Jack immediately adopted Tate and Emily.
Now, ten years later, he smiled to himself as he looked at the apex of the Gateway Arch. Just a few days before, he’d provided himself a subliminal pat on the back as he stared at One Met, a testament to his success in business. Tonight, he provided another pat on the back for being a loving husband to Jill and a caring father to the kids.
Chapter Six
Thursday, December 20
Atwood Residence
Cordova, Tennessee
Jill was in a jovial mood after she hung up with Jack that morning. He was ready to start day three of his seminars in St. Louis. The kids were off to school for their last two days of semester exams. She would be jetting off to Trader Joe’s for groceries and then back home again to get ready for everyone to pile in on them the next night. She was half humming and half singing as she looked over her shopping list and checked the cupboards one last time. She allowed Bing Crosby, however, to do the heavy lifting with the singing part.
“I’ll be home for Christmas.
“You can plan on me.
“Please have some snow and mistletoe.”
Jill hummed the rest of the refrain as she retrieved her list and wrote the word mistletoe followed by a question mark.
She looked through her kitchen window at the sunny skies reflecting off the lake behind their home. Kids were playing in the park on the other side. In the sky, the Goodyear blimp floated by. It was going to be a big sports weekend in Memphis, and the nice folks at Goodyear had decided to advertise their products overhead.
Just as she was reaching for her jacket to pull it on, her cell phone rang. She studied the display. It was her sister, Beth.
“Hey, Bethie!” Jill greeted cheerily. “Are you on your way yet?”
“Almost,” her younger sister replied. “Anthony was being a pill, so we’re getting a late start. But we’ll easily be at Mrs. Chandler’s house before dark.”
“Honey, when are you gonna stop calling her Mrs. Chandler?” asked Jill as she cradled the phone between her jaw and shoulder so she could pull on her jacket. The wonders of technology allowed her to take this conversation with her, because Lord knows she didn’t have time to chitchat.
“As soon as she lets me,” replied Beth. “I tried to call her Mom once, and she shot me a look that gave me the heebie-jeebies. I could see myself being chopped into little pieces and turned into hamburger.”
“Whoa! That’s an awful visual for a pregnant mother to conjure up.”
“It’s true,” said Beth.
Jill asked, “What’s the deal, anyway? Y’all have been married for years. You’ve got a three-year-old and a second baby in the hopper.”
“Beats me. Honestly, my insecurities cause speculation to run rampant through my head. I mean, does she not want to get attached to me or something?”
Jill snatched her keys off the wall hook by the back door. She glanced around the kitchen one last time to make sure she didn’t leave any candles burning, and then slipped through the Dutch door leading to the back deck. She wanted to fill the squirrel feeder before she left.
“What do you mean by attached?” Jill asked.
“You know. Like, maybe she thinks I’m not gonna be Tony’s wife for long, and therefore I can’t call her Mom as if that might somehow make our marriage permanent.”
“It is permanent, Beth. You gotta believe that.”
Jill let out a noticeable sigh. She’d spent most of her phone conversations with Beth the last two years talking her off the cliff of divorce.
“I don’t think she believes it. To Mrs. Chandler, her Tony shoots the moon and can do no wrong. Somehow, it never dawns on her that I’m the one who comes to visit. I’m the one who drags little Anthony out of his comfort zone. You know how he can be around unfamiliar people. Heck, her house smells like mothballs. That freaks me out. Imagine the effect it has on my autistic little boy?”
Jill slid in behind the steering wheel of her full-sized SUV and pressed the ignition button. She turned down the radio and turned on the seat warmer. Despite the temperatures being seasonally normal in the fifties, their car was parked on the north side of the house and seemed to always be in the shade. She transferred the call to the hands-free feature on the SUV’s sound system. Her life experiences compelled her to be a responsible driver.
“Can you hear me?” she asked Beth to confirm.
“Yes, why?”
“I have to take you to Trader Joe’s with me, so I transferred you to the truck speakers.”
Beth hesitated, and her tone became dejected. “Oh, okay. I know you’re busy. I’ll let you go.”
“No, Beth. Don’t hang up. We’ve got plenty of time to talk. Now, listen. You’re a good wife and a great mom. You’ve got another beautiful baby on the way. Tony just needs to step up. He shouldn’t force you to see his mother alone, especially at Christmas.”
“Work keeps him busy. You know how it is.”
The guys had an extraordinarily busy December, but that would likely result in greater financial security for both families.
“Yes, I do. Jack puts in long hours. Usually six days a week. However, he always makes family a priority when he can.”
She could hear Beth sigh through the phone. Then Anthony could be heard yelling.
“Bird! Bird! Bird!”
Beth politely corrected him. “No, honey. That’s a helicopter.”
“He’s adorable,” said Jill. She always praised her sister’s son. It had been a difficult time for Beth and Tony when they confirmed Anthony was autistic. Complicating matters was the fact Beth learned she was pregnant after Anthony’s diagnosis. A debate raged in the Chandler household about Beth having an abortion over fears that all of their children might have autism spectrum disorder, or ASD. Beth refused to even consider an abortion, and now she was twenty-eight weeks pregnant.
“He is and I do love him so. I won’t lie, it’s a challenge.”
Jill was anxious to change the subject. “Well, I hope you’re ready for a whirlwind of a Christmas week. Tomorrow night, we’ll have a potluck kinda supper. Charcuterie boards. Lots of dips. Desserts.”
“I’ve been eating like a horse lately. Count me in.”
“Good. Then on Saturday, Jack is gonna take Tony on a turkey shoot out in the country past Fisherville. We’ll go shopping and then head into the city to watch Tate’s championship game against Webb School out of Knoxville.”
Beth enjoyed talking about her sister’s family. It was what she dreamed of for herself. “I bet Tate’s fired up.”
“He is. He loves this new guy from Savannah. His name is Coach Joe Carey, and he led their team to back-to-back championships at the single A level.”
“I’ve got my MUS sweatshirt he bought me for my birthday. Smart kid. You know, getting me an extra-large.�
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Jill laughed. “Don’t start with me. After Anthony, you lost that baby weight so fast it made my head spin. I was chubby for a year after Tate and Emily.”
“Is Emily nervous about the Christmas pageant on Sunday?” asked Beth.
“She’s trying not to show it, but I can tell she is. I hear her rehearsing every night. I’ve tried to encourage her to relax. She shoots me down. She talks about this being her big debut and all of that.”
Beth and Jill laughed. Then Jill continued. “Anyway, Sunday we’ll head over to the Halloran Centre early to let her get comfortable. After, if we want, we’ll hit downtown Memphis to tour the Pyramid or see the ducks at the Peabody, and then wolf down some ribs at the Rendezvous.”
“Wow! You’re checking off all the boxes on my Christmas wish list. There’s one you forgot, though.”
“Au contraire, sis,” said Jill in her best French accent. “You will see Graceland in all its holiday splendor Christmas Eve if you want. Maybe Elvis will make an appearance?”
Beth laughed. Jill always made her feel better. “Love me some Elvis.”
“He’s all yours, honey.”
“Come on, Jill. A little bit of shimmy. A little bit of shake. A lot of rock and a lot of roll. What’s not to love?”
“Okay. Okay,” Jill relented before continuing to lay out the week’s agenda. “The rest of Christmas Eve, I thought we’d play it by ear. If there’s something we missed or that you want to do, like last minute Christmas shopping, we’ll do it. That night, we’ll have a big dinner and open presents. On Christmas Day, it’s all about chillaxing. We’ve got college football to watch. The Grizzlies play on TV. We’ll eat leftovers and desserts and lie on the couches, moaning in pain.”
Beth was laughing hilariously in the background at her sister’s description of the daily activities. “What about Wednesday?”