by Bria Marche
***
Five days had passed since the funeral. Abby felt relieved it was over, and other than any settlements that might or might not be forthcoming, the only thing left was the reading of the will.
She had already filled out the papers on Monday giving Attorney Lewis permission to go forward with a lawsuit against City Waste and Recycling. The reading of the will would take place tomorrow. Abby felt odd, wondering who the other four people were that would be sitting next to her in the attorney’s office. She obviously wasn’t close to the few relatives that conveniently showed up at the funeral, yet she didn’t know if Charlotte had kept in touch with them over the phone.
Thursday morning, after dropping Melanie off at work, Abby came home and dressed in a simple eggplant-colored pantsuit with a string of pearls around her neck, and matching earrings. The appointment was set for ten a.m., and she was nervous. This could determine what I do with the rest of my life, she thought as she applied her makeup with a cup of coffee sitting beside her on the bathroom countertop. Her hands shook as she thought about the next few hours. She tried to focus on her to-do list for the next few days. She certainly had to buy a car, needing her own set of wheels. I’ll look online later for a good used car. At least after the reading of the will, I’ll know what I can afford.
Attorney Lewis’s office was on Calhoun Street in a stately Georgian-style red brick building. The cornerstone dated the structure to 1790. Abby, who loved old architecture, nodded with appreciation as she walked up the granite steps to the front door with a Palladian window above it. She entered and took the marble staircase to the second floor. Attorney Lewis’s lavish office was the first door on the left at the top of the stairs. The receptionist, Adrianne, acknowledged Abby, asked her to take a seat, then disappeared through a door behind her desk. As Abby sat in the ornate waiting area, she took notice of the other people sitting there, too. She didn’t recognize any of them.
The large mahogany double doors opened, and Attorney Lewis stood there, inviting everyone that sat in the waiting room into his office at the same time. Her nerves kicked in again, making Abby’s stomach feel like a roller coaster doing steep climbs and free falls at an amusement park. After the usual pleasantries, Attorney Lewis introduced everyone, beginning with Abby. Following her were the presidents and CEOs of the Art Institute of Charleston, the Historic Charleston Foundation, and Charleston Animal Society, and the owner of At Your Service natural foods store. A lightheadedness came over Abby as she took a sip of water while they sat at the conference table with Attorney Lewis across from the five of them. Whatever was coming next probably wasn’t in Abby’s best interest. Since her mother never made it to the attorney’s office to change the will before she died, Abby didn’t know if Charlotte had even called Attorney Lewis to tell him of her plan. With four other people sitting there with her, she was sure her fate was doomed.
“Okay, shall we begin?” Attorney Lewis glanced at everyone, waiting for an affirmative nod. He informed them that Charlotte had left ten million dollars each to the art institute and the historic foundation. The animal society would receive five million dollars, and the owner of the natural foods store would receive two million dollars. Abby’s trust fund was frozen until she turned forty, at which time she would inherit the remainder of her mother’s estate. For the time being, the house on South Battery was hers, free and clear but with one stipulation. She was never allowed to sell the home. It could only be passed down to future generations of the Melrose family. With the will read, the four others celebrated, and each signed the necessary paperwork and left. Sitting alone with Attorney Lewis, Abby was stunned with disbelief.
“May I read the will myself?” she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Of course you may,” he said, sliding a copy across the conference table.
Abby read it twice, slowly and carefully. “You never got a call from her to say she was coming in to change her will?”
“No, Abigail. I’m sorry, but I never received that call. The current will is the last version I have on record. She never asked me to amend it.”
“How could she do this to me? I’m her only child. Do you have the slightest idea what the property taxes are on that mansion, let alone the general upkeep and flood insurance costs? I can’t ever sell it, and I have to wait thirteen years before I can touch my trust fund. She never earned a penny of that fortune. It was all my dad’s genius and hard work that made her rich. That bitch! I can’t believe she would be this vindictive, this cruel to me. I made one lousy mistake with my own money, and this is my payback, while three organizations and a flipping food store get millions!”
“Abigail, don’t forget we’re trying for a wrongful death lawsuit. You could possibly walk away with millions right there.”
“Yeah, and a lot of bad karma and voodoo juju, damn it! Keep me posted.” Abby stormed out the door, slamming it extra hard. She drove to Melanie’s workplace, calling her on the way. “Do you have time to take me home? I won’t be able to pick you up after work.”
“Sure, I can do that, but why?”
“Because I’m going to be drunk by then and incapable of driving,” Abby said as she pulled up along the curb.
“Crap. It didn’t go well at the attorney’s office?”
“Not even close. I’m outside, by the way.”
“Okay. I’ll be down in five minutes.”
Chapter Eight
The three women sat in the library after dinner, trying to come up with a plan to support the household. Abby nestled in, her feet scrunched up under her body on the antique wingback chair, while Betsy and Melanie got comfortable on the overstuffed sofa.
“I still can’t believe what my mom did to me. I’m either going to break out in acne or get a stomach ulcer any minute now. I ran the numbers this afternoon, and it almost made me throw up. Do you guys realize the property taxes here are more than twenty-five thousand dollars a year? That’s insane, and the flood insurance is ten thousand dollars annually. Household bills like electricity, natural gas, water, Internet, and cable are eight hundred fifty a month. Attorney Lewis gave me the tax and insurance statements this morning, then I made phone calls this afternoon to get all the bills transferred out of my mom’s name and put into mine. I didn’t even have time to get drunk because I was so busy reading over all this paperwork and getting pissed off.”
Abby pressed her palms against her temples and shook her head.
“You guys, I’m seriously going to freak out with these expenses right now. I have to come up with something, and quick. Mom’s funeral expenses were ten thousand dollars, so there isn’t much left of the cash we found. After the regular bills I have to pay and then tacking on incidentals, it will come to fifty thousand dollars a year just to support this house, and the kicker is I’m not allowed to sell it. It’s payback on Mom’s part. I know it is. She wants me to prove I can be responsible and resourceful when I have absolutely no money. There’s no way I can afford to go to school now or buy a car. Damn it, I do need a drink after all. Anyone care to join me?”
“I’ll get it. Just stay put and breathe.” Betsy pulled three rocks glasses out of the liquor cabinet and poured single malt scotch into each one. “I do have an idea,” she said as she passed out the glasses.
“Throw it out there, sister. I’m game for anything,” Abby said with a sip and a sigh.
“How about taking in boarders?”
“Huh? You mean like transient, homeless people, or drunks and drug addicts that are on a twelve-step program? That idea wouldn’t go over very well in this neighborhood, if you know what I mean. I appreciate your suggestion though.”
“No, Abby, that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean regular folks. Look what Mel was paying for an eight-hundred-fifty-square-foot apartment, and that didn’t even include utilities. You don’t have to pay me a wage anymore. I’m getting room and board in this beautiful mansion. The least I can do is keep it clean and cook the food I’m eat
ing.”
“Yeah, that goes for me, too. I was paying a thousand fifty dollars without utilities. The least I can do is pay the same I was paying in an apartment that was an eighth the size of this house. How many people can say their address is on East or South Battery? That in itself is worth the look on people’s faces. Think about it. There are still six empty bedrooms in this house. Why waste them? Let’s turn this mansion into the place everyone wants to call home. It can be like a permanent bed-and-breakfast. Betsy can be in charge of meals, which of course would be included in their rent. There’s three more bedrooms the size of ours that have private baths and three smaller bedrooms that don’t. We’ll charge rent according to the size of the room and how many meals a day Betsy makes. It’s actually doable, Abs.” Melanie and Betsy were clearly excited by the possibilities.
“Wouldn’t I have to have some kind of business license to do that? I doubt that this house, or street, is zoned to have any kind of commercial enterprise on it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, dear Abigail. There’s three B-and-Bs right on East Battery.”
“Okay, you’re right, but I can’t afford to go through the legalities needed to bring this house to whatever codes are required, like a second-story fire escape, and just the cost of a B-and-B license is probably astronomical. Anyway, we’d be trying to make this place an upscale boarding house, not a B-and-B. How are we going to accomplish that?”
Betsy gave Abby a sly grin and said, “Quietly.”
“Okay, on a serious note, how could we really pull it off?”
“I know a lot of high rollers in the fashion industry, and I do have a degree in marketing. There wouldn’t be any lowlifes trying to move in here. They couldn’t afford it anyway. We’d have to come up with a cost per room, both with and without a private bath, and then the cost per meal. It has to be calculated logically, plus it has to be competitive with what people would spend anyway on meals and lodging. I can use myself as one example. I paid a thousand fifty dollars for eight hundred fifty square feet of space. That was for a cramped kitchen and living room combination, one bath, and a tiny bedroom. My utilities were two hundred fifty dollars a month for everything, and I had to pay for a parking spot, which was another hundred bucks. I spent two hundred a month on groceries but ate out a lot, too, which was an average of another two hundred. Betsy, add all those numbers up, please.”
“That’s one thousand eight hundred dollars a month, Mel. You must make a good income.”
“I do, but look at the big picture here. I didn’t live in a stately mansion like this. I couldn’t wander around a six-thousand-eight-hundred-square-foot house and beautiful gardens like I can here. Nobody would have to cook their own meals, and look at the view. The park is right across the street and the ocean beyond that. What’s not to like? People will be banging the door down trying to be one of the lucky ones to live here.”
“I’m not too bad at reading people, for the most part anyway, having been a relationship counselor before. I’ll be in charge of interviewing potential tenants. We need a way to do a background check and verify their employment, too. I know there are programs you can subscribe to that do those types of things. It’s the same thing employers and rental agencies use. Right now, we have to figure out the room and meal cost that will make sense to anyone that rents. They have to see the benefit of living here over anywhere else. After that, we need to get these potential renters here for an interview without attracting attention from the neighbors.” Abby finally looked hopeful as she spoke. “No matter what, it will cost nearly five thousand dollars a month to support this place. Let’s figure out the cost per room and meals right now and see how it shakes out.”
***
Betsy disappeared into the kitchen while Mel and Abby worked on the room costs. Betsy would be the one to figure out food expenses for a houseful of people, day in and day out. Ten minutes later, she returned with a pitcher of sweet tea and an enormous turquoise melamine bowl full of popcorn. “I thought we might need a little snack to help us think. I’ve heard popcorn aids blood flow to the brain.”
“It does,” Abby said, “but not the buttery, salted type. I think our brains are in high gear already, but I love buttery popcorn, so thanks. Before we go to bed tonight, we’ll have a viable plan of action.”
With a half-hour break for popcorn and tea—and with a calculator clicking away beneath their greasy fingertips—the girls devised the perfect cost-effective scenario.
“This will make everyone feel like they’re getting more than their money’s worth while living in the best neighborhood of Charleston,” Mel said. “Abby, you’ll have plenty of money left at the end of the month to buy a car and save up for anything that can go wrong. With four people, including me, paying one thousand two hundred dollars a month for the large bedrooms with the private bath, and three people paying eight hundred dollars for the small bedrooms with hallway baths, it comes to seven thousand two hundred dollars a month in income. Betsy, how much would it cost to feed nine people for a month?”
“If I make a lot of pasta dishes, casseroles, and salads for dinners, and eggs and toast for breakfasts, everyone could be fed well on one thousand five hundred dollars a month,” Betsy said.
“Okay, so if we add two hundred dollars a month more to everyone’s rent, which would include breakfast and dinner, we can’t go wrong. They’ll be jumping at the chance to live here. As long as we can rent all the rooms, there should be plenty of money coming in. Everyone will have to sign a one-year lease. Now, the question is, how do we start a buzz in Charleston without the neighbors finding out?” Melanie said.
“Let’s sleep on it and come up with something tomorrow. I’m beat,” Abby said. “Thanks, guys, for everything. This just might work out after all.” Lying in bed, Abby felt excited about the possibilities. Life might turn out okay as long as I’m very careful with the tenants I choose. Remy and Mom, I won’t let either of you ruin my life. No pity parties for me anymore. I’m going to be in charge and live my life on my terms, bravely and passionately, with the best friends I’ve ever known. Thank you, Mel and Betsy, for being here for me. We can make this work.
***
“I’ve got to change my last name,” Abby announced as she walked into the breakfast room the next morning. The long, flowing robe looked beautiful on her tall, slender body.
She brought the carafe of coffee to the maple morning table and set it on a trivet. Betsy scooped the scrambled eggs into a bowl and served them family style. With a four-slice toaster, the toast was made and buttered in no time. Betsy stacked eight pieces on a plate and carried it to the table with a jar of peach jam. The girls helped themselves to breakfast.
“So what does that actually mean, and why would you do it?” Mel asked with a mouthful of perfectly prepared eggs.
“I’ve done the research, and it’s as simple as going to the courthouse and standing before the judge. As long as you aren’t a criminal trying to hide or you want to change your name to something really stupid, it goes through without a problem. I want to come across as the on-site property manager, so I don’t want anyone to know I actually own the house. Plus it’s a good way to never be used again for financial gain.”
“That’s a great idea. Have you thought of a new last name yet?”
“Sort of, but I want to run it by you guys first. Originally, I wanted to use my mom’s maiden name, but not anymore after the crap she put me through. How about Taylor? It’s a basic, common name. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
“I like it. Abigail Taylor, or Abby Taylor, has a nice ring to it. You look like you could be the granddaughter of Liz Taylor with your black hair and blue eyes,” Melanie said.
“Thanks, Mel. So it’s settled? You guys agree, Abby Taylor sounds okay?”
“It’s okay by me,” Betsy said as she cleared the table.
“Me, too. When are you going to do it?”
“I’ll have to call the courthouse and see when I can get
in. Have either of you given the interview process any thought?”
“I think we should post an ad in every Starbucks south of Spring Street, plus I can spread the word at work. We have a bulletin board for employees in the cafeteria. A friend of mine at work can have her husband post an ad in the cafeteria at the hospital, too. There are young doctors and nurses working there that could easily afford to live here. We’re only interested in top quality applicants that will get along with us and each other.”
“Well, I know what I have to do before anyone moves in. I need to upgrade the water heater in the basement so there’s always hot water on demand, and I need to spruce up the hallway bathrooms a little. All the bedrooms we’re going to rent out need a fresh coat of paint, too. After that is complete, we can start the interview process. With the few thousand dollars I have left, I’m pretty sure I can find somebody to take care of those household issues pretty quickly. Today, Betsy, you and I are going to move furniture and pick out paint colors.”
Melanie had already left for work, and because it was such a beautiful day with low humidity, Abby and Betsy found a shaded spot outside to use as their work area. With the laptop wedged under her arm, a pencil lodged above her left ear, and a pad of paper in her hand, Abby sat down at the wrought-iron bistro set in the backyard. Betsy joined her with a fresh pot of coffee, two mugs, and two cinnamon rolls. Browsing through a website showing paint samples, Abby and Betsy made their selections. They could be more imaginative with the larger rooms, but the small bedrooms would need lighter colors to make them look bigger. Between the two of them, they chose a light blush for the small rooms and sage green for the larger rooms. Keeping the walls a gender-neutral color would help make them attractive to anyone. Abby found several ads online that offered handyman services. She set up appointments with three of them to compare rates and qualifications. By this time next week, they would be ready to open for business.