by Woods, Karen
“I know he will miss spoiling you.”
“You don’t mind my going, do you?” Patrick asked.
“I mind it terribly. But you have to do what you need to do for yourself. God knows, I needed to leave our life behind after Dryusha died. I understand completely. Life goes on and we have to do what we must in order to get through the pain and the loss.”
“A nun,” he said, shaking his head while he cut into the stuffed baked apple with piped whipped cream around the base. “I can see you in that life.”
“I’m glad someone can. The most I can say is that I hope to live in a way worthy of the name.”
James came out to them. “Can I bring you anything else?”
Patrick smiled. “Can you write down the recipe for these apples? I have always loved them.”
James smiled. “Of course. But I’ll always have them here for you.”
Rita said, “Patrick is leaving us after Janet’s funeral. He has a new adventure laying ahead of him. And we wish him joy.”
“Absolutely, we wish him joy,” James agreed after a moment, with a sad smile. “Is this the only recipe you want? You always particularly enjoyed my chicken and artichoke casserole and my green goddess salad dressing. Would you like to have those recipes too?”
“Absolutely,” Patrick agreed. “And the recipes for the hot spinach dip you make on New Years’ Eve, that rolled lamb shoulder roast you do for Easter, that rosemary roast chicken, the falafel you make, that sprouted lentil salad, and oh I could go on. I will miss your food.”
James smile became a bit less sad. “We will miss you.”
Chapter Nineteen
The family, Rita, her mother, her sons and daughters-in-law, were gathered at Boris’ home in California on Saturday evening before the Sunday when the twins were to be baptized, five weeks after Janet’s death. They’d gotten back from Vespers at Church a little over two hours before. Dinner had been simple; homemade lentil soup cooked in a crockpot, a mixed greens salad, and crusty sourdough rolls. Sonya and Boris had just put the children to bed. The adults were in the dining room, with coffee and chocolate layer cake, gathered around the table.
“I called this family meeting, because this is the last time that we will all be together before the monastery becomes a reality. You deserve to know how things stand. I have all the papers, if you want to read them,” Rita said. “But let me distill this down. The monastery has been incorporated as a not for profit corporation by the name of Saint Maria Skobtsova Orthodox Monastery. We have received our federal tax exempt status as a 501(c)(3) religious organization without the necessity of an annual tax filing. The clinic grounds have been deeded to the Monastery with the provision noted in the Typikon of the monastery, that if the monastery ever ceases to exist that the grounds, all the buildings thereon, and all the livestock will revert to my descendants. So, say, if in thirty years, all of the original nuns are dead and there are no more nuns in residence, the property will revert to my sons and their heirs, per stirpes. Any questions?”
“Seems straightforward, Mama,” Alexei said.
“What does ‘per stirpes’ mean?” Boris asked.
“If the real property reverts to my heirs, then each of my sons would have a one-third share. But say that one of you has reposed. Then your descendants would split your share of the property, equally,” Rita said.
Alexei nodded. “I could give a legal definition, but that is as good as any explanation.”
“Any more questions about the real estate?” Rita asked.
“Not from me. That seems fair,” Boris answered.
Rita said, “I have transferred most of my liquid assets into the family trust, with all three of my sons named as voting trustees, but Lyosha shall serve as the executive trustee, without pay, except for reimbursements of reasonable expenses he may incur in executing his duties and a reasonable hourly rate for any legal services he provides.”
Boris and Kiril nodded. Boris spoke, “Seems fair.”
“That’s the goal. I want to be fair to you.”
Irina said, “Most of my liquid assets have also been put into the family trust.”
“Are you sure you want to do that, Babushka?” Sonya asked in clear concern. “Are you certain that becoming a monastic is what you both want? What happens if it doesn’t work out and you want to stop being a monastic?”
Irina laughed. “Thank you for the concern. But if it wasn’t what we felt God calling us to, we wouldn’t be doing it. We are both adults capable of making our own decisions.”
“It’s just unusual,” Sonya replied. “I love both of you. And I want only the best for you.”
“And we love you,” Rita said. “We need to do this in preparation for taking tonsure. I think when you hear the terms of the trust, you will be less concerned.”
“Okay. What are the terms?” Sonya asked.
“The funds, with the unanimous approval of my sons, can be spent for any family medical or legal emergency, although they are primarily intended to be used for the higher education of my descendants,” Rita said.
“Medical or legal emergencies?” Masha asked.
“They happen. In case of true emergency, I want to make sure you have access to adequate money.”
“That is kind,” Masha replied.
“There are other terms. The funds can be drawn on to provide up to twice weekly domestic help for families while children are young. Young families can always use an extra set of hands around the house from time to time, if for nothing else than to keep laundry done and scrub the toilets, vacuum, dust, scrub the counters and sinks, wash windows, and scrub the floors.”
Sonya nodded. “That is helpful. Thank you.”
“Further, the funds can also be loaned, at whatever the current interest rate being earned by the trust is, to any of my descendants for the purpose of buying a family home. But funds for housing is a loan that must be repaid, with interest, not a gift. All of the trustees must be unanimous that the home is a suitable family home. The loans will fund places to raise a family, but not the mansions that were the style of the Zornovs of prior generations. The loan must be affordable for the descendant borrowing. You won’t be allowed to overextend yourselves. A standard mortgage will be drawn and recorded as a lien against the property. Monthly installment payments will be made to the trust as per an amortization schedule. Prepayment can be made at any time without penalty. Default on any mortgage will disqualify the person holding the mortgage from drawing further funds from the trust for any purpose until such time as the mortgage is brought current. And like all mortgages, foreclosure for nonpayment is always a possibility. This will not be allowed to deplete the fund.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Anya replied.
“Further, should I or your grandmother need major funds, which I do not anticipate, either of us may draw on the liquid or tangible assets of the trust, without the consent of anyone, up to the full amount of the trust,” Rita told them.
Sonya nodded. “Good. I am happy to see this provision. How much money are we talking about, anyway?”
“As of yesterday at ten a.m., the family trust had a liquidity of just over fourteen point eight million dollars, held in a brokerage account and in an insured interest bearing demand deposit account. I have the list of investments from the brokerage account, if anyone wants to see that. Any questions?”
“Almost fifteen million dollars?” Masha echoed, in disbelief, shaking her head.
“I am sorry. It should have been more. But, I retained a sizeable amount to create an endowment for the monastery, so that we will, hopefully, never be a drain on anyone,” Rita said.
“This is amazing,” Anya said, shaking her head and sighing.
She waited for further questions. When none came, she said, “The family jewelry, which is the remaining tangible asset of the trust, is stored in a bank safe, in Manhattan, distributed over a several large safe deposit boxes. I doubt that you boys have ever seen some of these pieces.
I have only looked at some of them myself a couple of times.”
“I had no idea there was so much of it,” Boris said.
“A very small selection of the accumulated wealth represented by this family treasure was purchased for me by Andrei Ivanovich. Some of it was purchased for, or by, my mother. Some of it was purchased by, or for, Natalia Denisova. The rest was inherited.”
“Inherited?” Sonya asked.
“The biggest part of it goes back several generations. Some of these pieces, such as the family tiaras, and the Zornov family wedding crowns, which you all had use of at your weddings…”
“Which were beautiful, but heavy,” Anya interjected.
“Well, those are solid gold and gemstones, with ermine fur. The Zornov family were minor nobility who were never afraid of hard work or of involvement in commerce,” Lyosha replied. “They had to abandon much of their fortune, in the family’s lands, when they were able to escape from Russia and go to Paris just before the October Revolution. But that would have been confiscated anyway, if they had stayed.”
Rita nodded. “There are also some truly garish diamond, ruby, and sapphire necklaces and bracelets that no one would wear today although the stones are very good, that came the Zornov family when they fled from Russia. The jewelry was all they could take with them of their fortunes, aside from the considerable funds they had already hidden away in Swiss banks because they saw trouble coming. There are, among the family jewelry, seven pieces made by Peter Carl Faberge, himself. The provenance is completely proven. Those are museum pieces.”
“Eggs?” Anya asked, her voice squeaking.
“Yes,” Rita said.
Kiril shook his head. “Those must be worth millions.”
Rita nodded. “According to the appraisal, tens of millions. I suspect with time they will appreciate further, with time. I would recommend hanging onto those. No matter what you do with any of the rest of the family jewelry, please don’t sell the eggs unless cash is desperately needed, and this is a last resort.”
“A treasure,” Masha replied, her voice hushed.
Rita said, “Yes. My mother-in-law had the Faberge eggs on display in her home in the Hamptons until Kiril was born. Then she put them in the bank vault for safekeeping, at the urging of her insurance company. When Dryusha inherited her property, we had to sell her large collection of paintings, some of them very good paintings, to pay the inheritance taxes. She had quite a collection; two Renoirs, a Caravaggio, a Titian, two Monets, a Winslow Homer, a Degas, several Picassos, a Gainsborough, a Turner, and many pieces by lesser known French and American painters. They were sold at auction, without the family being publicly identified. But that sale, and the sale of the house in the Hamptons which she had deeded to your father and me as a wedding present, brought in more than enough money that we paid the taxes on her estate, and our capital gains taxes on the sale of the house.”
“I didn’t know that,” Kiril said.
“No reason why you should have known,” Rita said. “You were only three years old when Natalia Denisova reposed.”
“So, how much is this collection worth?” Masha asked.
Rita removed four binders from a briefcase at her feet, “I have had the whole collection appraised by a major auction house, within the last month. I have a copy of the appraisals for each of my sons. The auction house retained a copy. A copy is resident with the insurance company that insures the pieces. And I have a copy, which will remain in the safe at my office. Otherwise, these are the only record of the appraisal. Please safeguard your copy.” She handed each of her sons a bound copy of the appraisals from the well-known auction house.
They all looked through the appraisal book that contained photos of each piece along with the recent appraisal of each piece.
“How much did this appraisal cost?” Boris asked.
“Not that much. I did grant the auction house the right of first refusal to sell the collection, if the family trust decides to sell part or all of the collection. So, the appraisal was relatively cheap,” Rita said. “The appraisals were done at the bank, one safe deposit box at a time, with me sitting there. Nothing left the room with anyone but me. Note that there are my handwritten notations next to each photo indicating in which box the specific pieces are stored.”
“Wow!” Masha said as she looked at the final totals of the valuation of the pieces.
“You are kidding me?” Anya said on little more than a shocked whisper.
Sonya turned very pale. “This is for real?”
“Yes, it is real. I have placed the ownership of the jewelry into the family trust; the basis for tax purposes is this valuation book. So if any of it ever needs to be sold, you will be easily able to figure the taxable portion of that sale,” Rita said. “I would like the family jewelry to be held as a fall back resource for the family trust. But from now on, it is the decision of my sons what to do with this. The keys to the bank boxes are in my office safe. But the name of the bank and the box numbers are listed in the appraisal report for the insurance company and for your records. Lyosha is empowered as executive trustee to pay the annual rental on the boxes and to keep the premium on the insurance policy on the jewelry paid out of the income of the trust. That really isn’t all that much, really. He is also an authorized signer on the safe boxes.”
She reached into her bag and brought out six velvet covered jewelry boxes. “These three rectangular boxes contain the jewelry that my Dryusha gave to me on the day of my sons’ baptisms. He designed these sets, picked out the stones, and had the settings made. I want each of my sons to have the set by which his father marked his birth and birth in Christ. It is a special legacy. These are not included in the appraisal book.”
“You want us to have them now?” Kiril asked.
“You might as well have the joy of them, as opposed to the pieces sitting in a bank vault,” Rita said. “After Thursday, I will never again wear them. So, someone should enjoy them.”
Then she picked up a box and opened it. “Kiryusha, your father marked your birth and baptism with emeralds that he said matched my eyes and diamonds that he said didn’t even come close to matching the multi-faceted splendor of my soul. Your father had the soul of a poet.”
“Well, we are Russian,” Kiril dismissed with a laugh.
She gave it to him. “Indeed. Masha, my dear, wear these in health, knowing that it was a gift of love.”
“Borya, Lyosha, your father had two similar but not identical sets made to mark your baptisms, saying it was fitting as you are twins but not identical.” She flipped open the boxes and said, “Lyosha, this set with the sapphires and diamonds was in honor of you. Borya, this set with the rubies and diamonds was given to me in your honor. Anya, Sonya, wear them, knowing that they were gifts of love.”
“Papa designed these?” Kiril asked.
“He did. He only ever designed jewelry for me. It gave him pleasure to give me something unique, something that came from his creativity. While I sold the houses and our condo after your father died, because I couldn’t stand being there without him, I couldn’t bring myself to sell any of the jewelry he designed for me because these pieces were a special legacy for my boys from their father. Your father’s original sketches for the sets and the jeweler’s bill for the settings are in the bottom of each box, under the velvet stiffener.”
Sonya looked at the topaz and diamonds set in gold. “They are wonderful, thank you. I will treasure them.”
Anya nodded. “I will wear this set proudly on dressy occasions. Thank you, Rita.”
“When you wear them, my daughters, say a prayer for Dryusha,” Rita replied. “I know that he is listening.”
Sonya nodded. “I will.” Her other daughters-in-law agreed that they would also pray for their late father-in-law.
“Now, these three ring boxes contain my engagement and wedding rings, my mother’s wedding ring and an eternity band my father gave her, and Natalia Denisova’s engagement and wedding rings. I
want each of you to have one of these sets. It doesn’t matter who gets what. But I want them to be with my sons,” Rita said.
“And I’m sure we will be happy to have them,” Anya said.
Rita stood, the next morning, in Church, watching her son baptize his youngest sons. She couldn’t help but remember when she had stood in the Cathedral watching her husband baptize their own sons. She looked around at all the people she knew; all the friends, all her family, and the members of her son’s congregation whom she didn’t know well, if at all, but she recognized they were here early on a Sunday morning because they loved her son and his wife. So much love was in this place.
The godparents dried off one baby after the other and dressed them in the customary white clothing signifying their new birth in Christ.
Soon, this part of the day would give way to the celebration of the Divine Liturgy, and the boys would receive their first communions.
The service was to her as familiar as breathing. She allowed herself to become lost in the timelessness of it all, in the wonder, in the presence of God.
The reception in the parish hall after liturgy was joyous. Rita circulated through the room, talking to a wide variety of people. She realized that she would miss this ease of dealing with people. Chances were that she wouldn’t be off the grounds of the clinic/monastery very often in the future. The three of them and the bishop had talked over the rules for their common life. The Typikon for the monastery allowed the nuns to go to family baptisms, weddings, and funerals, as well as to attend professional conferences such as were necessary for continuing education credits for professional licensure purposes. Also they would be allowed to be absent to conduct professional speaking engagements, book tours, and to conduct retreats, to transact monastery business, for necessary medical or dental treatments, and for any other purpose that the sisterhood would agree was suitable. Otherwise, her life would be on the farm turned clinic turned monastery. She had been mostly within the confines of the clinic grounds since Dryusha had died. Still, once that habit was given to her, she would never be seen the same way. She would no longer be just Doctor Zornova. She would be a monastic with a new name because it was a new life she was entering. People would expect more of her.