Promises_Star's Bakery

by Mary Jane Forbes

I’m sorry I didn’t let you know that I have cancer, and I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you, help you with future plans for our charities.

  I beg your forgiveness, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of people watching me die and saying to themselves what a poor soul, yet wishing I was already gone so they could get on with their lives.

  Truth is I’ve had a wonderful life and have but one regret—that I buried myself in my company after your mother died.

  I love you, my dear Louise. Memories of our Disney World vacation drove me to return to Florida for one last visit. Amazingly, my trip gave me a new purpose, a reason to live. I found myself caught up in the drama of a reality television show, a pilot production as it was described in the newspaper.

  I wish that some day we might share a glass of wine so I can tell you of a perky blonde, a blued-eyed angel. Her ability to hit adversity head on and to triumph reminded me of you and I at our low point—the death of my beautiful wife, your mother. Your beautiful brown eyes … there are times I have to blink … I see your mother looking at me.

  Dear Louise, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in fulfilling my desire to put my wealth, my good fortune, to work through charitable causes. You found the ones needing our help the most, especially our wounded warriors. Witnessing your interaction with the families—consoling, inspiring, investing in businesses they wanted to start where no one else would take a chance—was more than I dared hope for. I am proud of you as my daughter, but even more so the woman you have become.

  Louise with this letter in your hand, you know there will be no sharing of a glass of wine, but also know that I wrote these words, touched the creamy linen paper to my lips with a parting kiss, and know that I love you.

  Be strong, dear daughter.

  Your loving father,

  Dale Wainwright

  • • •

  LOUISE LOOKED UP to the ceiling, eyes closed.

  Her father loved her!

  Chapter 33

  LOU AND THOM EXCHANGED GLANCES, disbelief, hatred in their eyes as to what had just transpired. They shoved their chairs back from the table. Filled with contempt, Jude also shoved his chair grasping Louise’s arm, snapping her up on her feet. “Louise, let’s get out of here. We have to—”

  “Wait just a minute. Everyone sit down. There’s a codicil to the will.” Stanfield’s voice was commanding, demanding them to return to their seats. His lily-white, manicured fingers fidgeted centering the knot of his tie, then smoothed his thinning gray hair back.

  Louise sat. Rubbing her arm where Jude had forced her to her feet.

  Jude, Lou and Thom returned to their seats. Maybe there was something for them after all.

  Cliff Stanfield reordered the green folder from the bottom to the top. He removed a piece of paper from the green folder, glanced up, eyes moving from face to face arrayed in front of him.

  “Two weeks prior to his death Dale Wainwright executed this codicil in Daytona Beach, Florida. We always stayed in touch whenever he left Dallas. I attended to his needs, in particular the transfer of cash. He did not want to be found, wanted to travel to places that meant so much to him, to his late wife, and to you, Louise.

  “This document was executed in front of a bank manager, wired to me, and the original with his signature sent overnight by Federal Express. The original document is in my possession and will be retained with his will. The codicil changes nothing with regard to the percentage of the total estate to Louise Wainwright, the charities, future investments, but does alter the total estate with two deductions. He bequeaths five thousand dollars to Mr. Benny Howard, and twenty-five million dollars to Miss Star Bloom, Daytona Beach. Florida.”

  The lawyer didn’t have to wait for the eruption he was sure would come when he announced the contents of the codicil.

  Jude was the first to his feet, yelling at the lawyer. “What the hell are you trying to pull, Stanfield? A bogus codicil? Louise and I will see you in court. Star Bloom? A whore, who obviously saw a mark. Wrangled money from Louise’s dying father, taking advantage of his generosity. Dale wasn’t only eccentric he was out of his mind, certifiably crazy.”

  “This time I have to agree with my husband,” Louise said her voice strident. “How could this happen. That money could be used for so many causes, so many charities desperate for funding. My father would never do such a thing.”

  Lou ran out of the room, holding her stomach with one hand, her mouth with the other. Thom stood his ground next to Jude.

  “Now wait just a minute.” Stanfield had had enough. He jumped to his feet shedding his suit jacket, his tie. “Dale Wainwright executed this codicil with a clear mind. He knew what he was doing and he knew you would be upset. But, let me remind you that it was his dying wish. As for Miss Bloom wrangling, as you say, money from him, she, to my knowledge, never personally spoke with him.”

  “Clifford, you have to be joking,” Louise stammered. She was now on her feet pacing the room. “Never spoke to her but leaves her twenty-five million? Do you think I’m stupid? Jude’s right. What are you … and … and that harlot trying to pull? We will see you in court. After Christmas, I can’t get away from all the fundraisers over the next two weeks, Jude and I will go to this Star Bloom—even her name screams harlot. We’ll confront her, let her know this little charade of hers, cooked up between you, Clifford, and my father, will never stand up in court. In the meantime, Clifford, carryout my father’s directives in his will but hold onto that fraudulent codicil. My lawyer will be in touch with you. My new lawyer—not you, Clifford. I will contest the codicil to my dying breath if necessary.”

  “Now, Louise, don’t do anything hasty.” Cliff’s hand was shaking as he once again reached for his handkerchief, the underarms of his shirt damp from sweat. “I’ve helped you and your father for decades, a trusted family confidante, trusted to carry out—”

  “Trusted no more … Mr. Stanfield.”

  Jude stomped out of the conference run, slapping his good foot on the floor, pushing Lou and Thom out ahead of him. Louise yanked her shoulder bag from the floor as she turned to leave.

  Manny quickly stepped forward, grasping her arm. “Dr. Wainwright, come to Florida as you just said to Mr. Stanfield. Meet Star Bloom. You’ll find she’s a good person and would never do what you’re thinking. Call me. I’ll meet your plane.”

  Louise jerked free of Manny’s hand, shot him a look of steel as she hustled out the door.

  • • •

  THE ROOM WAS EMPTY but for the lawyer and the private investigator.

  Manny returned to his seat, leaned his chair back against the wall, mulling over the melee that had played out in the lawyer’s conference room.

  Cliff Stanfield had returned to his seat at the head of the table. Drained, he leaned back, legs stretched out in front.

  “Quite a bombshell, Mr. Stanfield.”

  “Dale knew it wouldn’t sit well. I’m glad you were here, Mr. Salinas.” Snapping to a sitting position, Stanfield opened the green folder retrieving an eight-by-ten manila envelope. He handed it to Manny. “There’s a small sealed envelope with a letter inside, handwritten by Dale on his personal stationery. The envelope is addressed to Miss Star Bloom. Dale instructed me to make sure Miss Bloom received the letter … I don’t know the contents only that Dale said he explained why he was giving the money to her. Will you deliver this to Miss Bloom for me … for Dale?”

  “I’d be honored. Star Bloom is a very special friend of mine, my wife and her aunt. Star is a good person, Mr. Stanfield.”

  The men shook hands.

  Said goodbye.

  Manny rode the elevator down to the lobby of the building, strolled out into the crisp clean air. He stood next to a lamppost and sent Liz a text.

  “U won’t believe what just happened. See you soon. LU”

  Manny shook his head. In his mind, John Doe’s death had ticked up a notch closer to murder. Maybe Jude and Thom, even Louise, were more than persons of i
nterest.

  Chapter 34

  JUDE THREW THE CIGARETTE butt down on the driveway, grinding it into the cement. The reading of the will swirling in his mind fanned the fury building inside of him. Charging up the front steps of his daughter’s house with a hip-hop favoring his bad leg, he barged through the door, down the hall, yelling. “Lou. Thom. Where the hell are you?”

  “Here, the kitchen,” Thom shouted.

  Jude found the pair sitting at the kitchen table, Thom’s sock feet propped up on the chair next to him.

  “Nice to see you too, daddy dearest,” Lou said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Thom stood up, crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits. “Things aren’t going exactly like you laid out to us are they, Jude? Nothing in the will for his beloved granddaughter or her faithful husband.”

  Lou shot a look of warning at her husband. “Hey, watch it, Thom. Don’t forget you signed a pre-nup when we got married. Grandfather insisted or he wasn’t going to set up the trust … the trust that keeps us in this house and you on the golf course with your father-in-law, tootling around in that fancy cart. You and daddy dearest here make quite a pair.”

  “You watch your mouth, Lou.” Jude stepped to her chair, raised his hand. Lou didn’t flinch, knowing daddy dearest would never hit his little girl. He stepped back to the counter “Don’t forget, without my suggesting to your mother she might help you with the latest remodeling, you would have taken the money out of one of your trust funds. Let’s work together children.”

  “Yeah, Jude. And you’re in the same boat as us, no remembrance from big-oil daddy. No thank you for all the pissy charity balls you attended with your beloved wife. And what’s this about a pre-nup you and her mother signed? Were you crazy?”

  “What, you don’t know is the pre-nup I signed, to get the holier-than-thou oil man’s blessing, is no longer in effect. After twenty years, the document is null and void. Not sure if your mother remembers that little clause, Lou. Texas is a no-fault state in case of divorce. The parties, split fifty fifty.”

  “I’m pregnant, Daddy. Thom and I—”

  “What?”

  “I said, I’m pregnant.”

  “Hell of a time. Does your mother know?”

  “I told her before the meeting with Cliff started. It all makes me sick … literally,” Lou said stroking her belly.

  “Well, maybe we can use your announcement. How did Louise take the news?”

  “Overjoyed!”

  “Yeah, well …” Jude, his feet slapping the floor as he paced over the slate tiles of the kitchen, copied from a design highlighted in the Architectural Digest. He stopped, turned to his daughter. “How are you feeling? When’s the baby due?”

  “Horrible. Mid-July.”

  “A baby could change everything. We have to sit tight. One idea, Lou. You should volunteer to help your mother, help her manage the millions slotted for Dale’s charities.

  “Umm, the dutiful daughter volunteers to help her mummy?”

  “Yes, especially help with the dispersal of funds to the charities, with Cliff’s help, of course. Now, don’t either of you do anything stupid, watch your mouths. We’ll keep quiet until Louise meets the bimbo. When she returns to contest the will, we’ll lobby for other changes at the same time or we’ll threaten repercussions?”

  “Like what, Daddy?”

  “I have a few ideas?”

  • • •

  IT HAD BEEN A TRYING two days to say the least—her father’s funeral, then this awful will business. Louise had spent the day in her office with patients and arrangements for charity events scheduled during the holidays. She looked at her image in the mirror of her vanity. The years had been kind to her. Thanks to her father she lived in the upper-crust of Dallas society with her handsome husband. She removed the combs holding her hair in place, releasing the auburn waves to her shoulders.

  Something was niggling around the edges of her mind. What? The meeting with Cliff had been very unsettling … no, it wasn’t that. She had learned from her daughter that she was pregnant. That was wonderful news.

  She let her delicate peach peignoir slide off her shoulders as she brushed her hair, sipped the wine in the crystal goblet. Her nightly ritual—a little wine while she brushed her hair waiting for Jude to join her in their bed.

  Lou had mentioned Thom was asking her again for a little more money in her monthly deposit into his account. Louise told her that Jude had said something of the same thing. Jude. He was always attentive even though their pre-nup was no longer an issue. She had told her father that it was no longer necessary. Yes, she’d look at all the finances after the first of the year, make some changes.

  Louise wasn’t sure if Jude recalled the date their pre-nup would be void. She saw no reason to bring it up.

  A new lawyer? No, she had been upset with Cliff. Dear Cliff. So faithful to her father. No, she wouldn’t seek a new lawyer.

  Louise tilted, turned her arm, the reflection in the mirror showing a bruise. Her fingers touched the black and blue spot. A little sore.

  Jude walked up behind her, put his arms around her, kissed the back of her head. He saw the bruise, kissed it. “There, all better, sweetheart.”

  She smiled up at him, their reflection. They made a handsome couple.

  Chapter 35

  Daytona Beach

  MANNY WALKED IN the backdoor to a raucous homecoming. Maggie and Peaches sat expectantly in front of their master, tails sweeping the floor, muzzles nudging his thighs. Liz handed him a large mug of coffee, lid clamped down tight. Lizzie was sucking on the nipple of a small bottle of water looking at her daddy with her big brown eyes, legs kicking in greeting as Liz strapped the baby into her carrier.

  What a homecoming. He loved every minute of it. “I take it we’re going somewhere?” Manny said.

  “You’ve got that right. The bakery.”

  “You do realize it’s after ten o’clock—the stars are out not the sun, my love.” He titled her chin up for a quick kiss.

  “Umm … I like that. I called Star about the pics you asked me to forward to her. She said to come to the bakery whenever. She and Gran are frosting a big order of Christmas cookies. Don’t worry, that coffee will perk you right up. After I forwarded all the pics you sent to me, she replied to come to the bakery pronto. Well, she didn’t say pronto. She said as soon as you got back. Same thing.”

  Liz gave each dog a bone telling them they were now on guard duty, and jogged to the car. Manny buckled Lizzie in the backseat, hustled back to his car. He grabbed his briefcase, tossed it on the seat next to Lizzie along with a kiss on her mop of red curls.

  On the way to the bakery, he related to Liz what he witnessed at the funeral and at the reading of the will, but stayed clear of his thoughts on the pictures. He wanted her reaction along with Star’s, but wanted their fresh perspective, not an annotated version taking into account his comments on the situation. That would come later.

  The bakery was lit up—little white lights framing the picture windows. Three two-foot white Christmas trees with colored lights were centered in each window. A black and white closed sign hung on the front door.

  “Star said to come around back, knock three times so she knows it’s us. We don’t want to scare them.”

  “You knock, I’ll bring Lizzie. Good heavens, I think she’s grown and I’ve only been gone two days. We have to set up her college fund.”

  “Really, Manny, I think we have a few days before we have to worry about that.”

  The backdoor swung open sending a strip of light across the pavement. Star hugged Liz, a squeeze on Manny’s free arm. “How about setting Lizzie over by the flour bin? Manny, I‘ve seen that Thom guy.”

  “Mary, nice to see you,” Liz said. “These cookies are very pretty.”

  “Hello, Manny,” Gran said. “Here, both of you have a cookie. There’s fresh coffee.”

  “Thanks, Mary.” Manny set Lizzie as directe
d, then fished out his cell bringing up the pictures he snapped at the funeral. “Wait a minute. Star, did I hear you right? You just said you saw this guy? I snapped the picture thinking it was a long shot. It’s Lou’s husband, Louise’s son-in-law. He took off his jacket as he got into the limo –leaving the funeral with the family. You’ve seen him? Where?”

  “I didn’t recognize them in the first picture—remember I was not here when you and Liz brought Louise and her husband to the bakery to talk to Benny. But the last picture, the man getting in the long black limo, the tattoo. I remember thinking how sweet that was—the heart with Lou inside. See, I thought the name Lou was probably a partner, not a wife in the conventional way. I saw him in Costco, the line over at the next checkout. I don’t know what he was buying.”

  “And you didn’t recognize the pics of Louise and Jude because you didn’t meet them.”

  “Right. But what does the guy with the tattoo have to do with John Doe? I know, I know. I’ll stop calling him that. Liz told me his name is Dale Wainwright. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him either. The picture you sent—”

  “Star, why do you say you’re pretty sure?” Liz asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen so many people—the diner, the competition. I never really focused on anyone’s face unless I knew them.”

  “Star, my trip was very interesting to say the least. Cliff Stanfield, he was Dale Wainwright’s lawyer, insisted the reading of his will take place the day after the funeral.”

  “Why did he insist? From what I’ve read in the newspaper it can be done days, weeks, months after a funeral service,” Star asked handing Gran another bottle of green food coloring.

  “He had information that he knew was not going to sit well with the family, and that dear friend is where you come in. When Liz hustled me out the door tonight, I didn’t complain because I wanted to see you.”

  “Me? Why would my name come up?”

  “Just a second, I have to get my briefcase.” Manny ran out, the eyes of the women following him. Running back in, he closed the door, set his briefcase on the floor next to Lizzie. He retrieved a cream colored envelope from his case, lifted Lizzie’s little hand to his lips. She jerked at the intrusion on her dreams.