Charlotte had counseled him for several months. He came to her depressed and lonely. He had only the remnants of a family. There was a daughter-in-law who did not appear to be very reliable. Dick’s only child, a son, had been killed overseas, and his body never found. As for his twin granddaughters, their whereabouts Dick had not known for fifteen years.
Charlotte seldom took new clients because her schedule was full. She felt immediately Dick’s motivation for seeing her was a desperate need for someone to talk to. Something about this hurting old man touched her soft heart. When he said, “Please help me. There’s hardly anyone left in this world who cares whether I live or die. To tell you the truth, most days I don’t much care either,” Charlotte knew she would extend her office hours to make room for Dick. She had never been sorry.
Dick Martino was a man determined to change his life and change it he had. Soon after beginning to work with Charlotte, he had started going to church and established a relationship with Jesus Christ. The difference was remarkable.
In May, Dick and Charlotte had agreed he no longer needed psychological counseling. Dick thanked her for helping him work through his depression, to which she smiled and said she really thought he should thank God.
Dick grinned broadly and said, “I do that every day, Charlotte. Every day.”
Dick still grieved for his son, but he looked forward to finding his granddaughters. He told Charlotte he planned to hire a detective agency to search for them.
Then, a month ago, Dick called and asked for a series of weekly appointments with Charlotte. She found this very peculiar and wondered what could be the cause. Why didn’t Anita let Dick talk directly with her or at least ask more questions? However, his first session was scheduled for nine a.m. the following morning, so she wouldn’t have to wait long for the mystery to be revealed.
Charlotte chose her career because she wanted to help others. She was always pleased when her clients’ lives improved and was disappointed to think this one was in need of help again so soon. Dick surprised her by bounding into her office that next morning, right on time as usual, nattily dressed in plus fours and full of energy. “You don’t exactly seem depressed, Dick,” Charlotte had observed.
“Me? Depressed? You must be thinking about the old Dick, not this kid.”
“Uh-huh,” Charlotte replied. “Am I mistaken, or did you schedule an hour with your psychologist this morning?”
Dick laughed. “That I did, my lady. That I did.” He eased into a comfortable chair, took a deep breath, and said, “Charlotte, I want you to do me a very great favor. I hate to ask and I wouldn’t if there was another living soul I could think of to do it. But there isn’t. I want you to be fallback executor of my will and the administrator of a trust. Now, before you say anything, I hope you won’t ever have to do any of this. I hope I’m going to find my granddaughters, Karen and Kathy. When they’re old enough and ready, I’ll make them responsible. But I haven’t found them yet and they’re still just kids. For all I know, something could have happened to one or both of them. Their mother is, well, she can be easily influenced. I have to protect the girls’ interest for a few years. And, as my lawyer keeps pointing out, I am seventy-four years old. I’m in excellent health, but you never know. I don’t want any of my ex-daughters-in-law to get anything and there are at least two of them who would arm-wrestle a grizzly bear if they thought he had a dollar bill. I want a good percentage of my assets to go to worthy causes and I don’t even know right now which ones. Let me explain what’s on my mind.” For the next thirty minutes, Dick outlined his plan. He expected his granddaughters to inherit his estate. In the unlikely event the twins were never found, he wanted his wealth distributed to worthy causes. Dick had decided against leaving money to a recognized charity. “I like to fund what might otherwise fall through the cracks of our organized society. If I see on the six o’clock news a family’s home burned, I rent them an apartment and buy their groceries until they get back on their feet. That kind of thing.”
Dick wanted someone he could trust to make independent decisions in his place. “I know this is a lot to ask, Charlotte. Although you would be compensated for your time, taking care of my affairs would be nothing but a headache. You don’t have to answer right away. Think about it a while if you need to and let me know when I come back next week.”
Charlotte had many reservations. She had managed financial matters for clients in the past, but never anything as open-ended, nor as substantial, as Dick’s. She was more accustomed to taking care of monthly Social Security checks to make sure an elderly person lived as well as possible.
“What about your attorney, Dick? Why don’t you put him in charge?” she asked.
“Jerry McClain? I would trust him with my life. Not only have I been doing business with Jerry for forty years, he’s my best friend. In fact, I’m on my way to play golf with him this morning. Problem is, that buzzard is almost as old as I am. He only comes to the office once a week, to take care of me and another couple of life-long customers. He’s had prostate cancer, two heart attacks, and on top of that he’s a raging diabetic. If Jerry outlives me, which I seriously doubt, he wouldn’t have the energy to do everything that needs to be done. I don’t think he’s the man for the job and neither does he.”
“I can understand that,” Charlotte sighed. “But why me?”
Dick hesitated. “Several reasons. You’re much younger than me, but not so inexperienced you’ll be taken in by some fast talker. Your Christian values show in everything you do. This part may make you mad, but Jerry had you checked out and said you’re as clean as they come. And there’s one more reason, the main one in my book. I’ve always been a good judge of people. I can talk to a man for a while and predict whether or not he’s going to try to cheat me. I trusted you as soon as we met. Those dog-like instincts have served me well all my life.” Dick paused and then continued. “I wish my son had inherited my ability to judge character. It could have saved him four bad marriages.”
The slam of the closing ambulance door brought Charlotte out of her reverie. After what seemed like an extensive time connecting monitors, starting an IV, and taking readings, the emergency technicians were ready to transport Dick to a hospital. “You can follow us. If we get separated, we’ll be at the Methodist ER.”
Later, Charlotte would not be able to remember driving to the hospital. There was a flurry of activity getting Dick into the emergency room. Charlotte filled out some forms. She waited. And prayed. And remembered.
After Dick had asked Charlotte to be his executor, she’d prayed for guidance. Was this the right thing to do? She believed, as Dick did, that she was merely providing a safety net. She was certain he would live long enough to care for himself until his granddaughters were old enough to take responsibility. She never doubted the girls would be found. They weren’t hiding, after all, just out of touch.
When Dick showed up for his next appointment, Charlotte said, “Yes.” She warned him, however, that he would have to give her explicit instructions on how he wanted things handled.
“Of course.” Dick grinned. “That’s the purpose of today’s session. And next week we’ll use my time to go over to Jerry’s office and get the paperwork in order.”
As she sat in the hospital waiting area, Charlotte thought back over that second “business” session with Dick. He set the stage by filling her in on his family. Dick graduated from college and joined the Air Force shortly thereafter. He met and married his wife Nancy in Washington, D.C., where their son was born. A couple of years later, Dick was reassigned to Clark Air Base in the Philippines. He and his family spent five years there in the early sixties. Then they returned to the Pentagon, followed by a short assignment in San Antonio, Texas, and once again to the Philippines for five additional years.
Dick finished his Air Force career in San Antonio. He and Nancy fell in love with the place and decided to make it their permanent home. After completing college, their son followed his
father’s example by becoming an Air Force officer. Dick started a small business to supplement his retirement income and keep busy.
When Nancy died of cancer six months before her granddaughters were born, Dick threw himself into his work. He became, as he described it, “A continuously more successful business man and a progressively worse human being.”
Dick made it clear he loved his son wholeheartedly. Despite a string of divorces, Dick also admired him.
“From the time he was twelve years old,” Dick reminisced, “I didn’t have to worry about being gone, not with Junior in charge. He was never an adolescent. He was a little boy and then all of the sudden he was a man. Needless to say, if my son could be here, I wouldn’t have to ask anybody to do anything for me. Junior would take care of everything.”
Dick went on to describe his hopes and dreams for his granddaughters, his thoughts on the kinds of charities he wanted to support, and how he wanted a few personal belongings distributed among his old friends if anything happened to him. He showed Charlotte some family pictures he had brought with him. After they both dabbed a few tears, Dick went on his way.
The next week Charlotte met Dick at Jerry’s law firm. Jerry was bald, grossly overweight, and impressively wrinkled. He moved slowly and with obvious effort. Charlotte casually wondered how a man in Mr. McClain’s condition could still play golf. But his mind was as sharp as anyone’s.
Jerry looked Charlotte dead in the eye and said, “Young lady, you realize, I’m sure, that you are agreeing to carry out Dick’s wishes explicitly. If he dies, it’s your job to take care of his granddaughters and his dang fool ideas about charities, and anything else that needs to be done. If he becomes incapacitated, you will be his legal guardian, in charge of his affairs until such time as he regains competency. Are you prepared to accept this responsibility?”
Charlotte felt as if she were on the witness stand. “Yes, sir,” she replied.
“All right then, sign here.” Charlotte signed as instructed. A notary was standing by to finalize the paperwork. It was all done with clockwork efficiency.
As they were leaving, Jerry pulled Charlotte aside. “I don’t believe you will ever need to carry out your executor duties, because I think old Dick is good for another five thousand miles. By the time he leaves this world Karen and Kathy will have everything he owns. But I want you to know this. If you try any funny stuff with Dick and there’s still breath in my body, you will most definitely answer to me!”
Charlotte suppressed a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “But you don’t need to worry. I have nothing but Dick’s best interests at heart. And, by the way, I agree with you. He’s in great health for a man his age.”
Dick’s old friend was almost comical. Charlotte knew she would never do anything shady, but Jerry didn’t. She had to admire his loyalty.
Dick caught up with Charlotte as she got into her car. “Don’t pay any attention to that old wind bag,” Dick said. “Jerry’s a lawyer and you know how danged suspicious they are. He didn’t mean anything personal by what he said.”
“No problem, Dick,” Charlotte replied. “Jerry is doing his best to look out for you and I say good for him. Loyal friends are hard to come by. Hang on to him.”
Dick grinned. “Thanks, Charlotte, you’re a doll. Next week I want to talk about my son. After the private eye finds my grandkids, I may want him to nose around a little and see what he can find out about Junior. There are some things that don’t add up about his disappearance. I need to discuss the whole situation with you. And Charlotte, thank you again for what you did today. You really took a load off my mind.” With that, he stood back from the car door and Charlotte drove away.
Charlotte pondered what Dick meant. In previous conversations he mentioned his son’s “death.” Now it was “disappearance.” Maybe this was nothing more than a turn of phrase. In any case, she would soon find out, or so she thought. Then this morning Dick hadn’t kept his appointment. Good grief, was that only a few hours ago?
Charlotte called her office one last time to update Anita. “It looks as if I may be Dick’s guardian for a while,” she said.
“That’s what I expected,” Anita replied. “I’ve already cancelled all of your appointments for tomorrow. You’ll have to do some paperwork to get authority to pay Dick’s bills and to sign for his transfer to rehabilitation. Jerry McClain is going to meet you at his office at ten o’clock to get all that straightened out. I’ve talked to a rehab facility we’ve used before called Altoville and they expect to have a room available whenever Dick gets released. In case you’ve lost track, tomorrow is Friday. Hopefully by Monday you’ll be back on schedule. What else? Oh, yes, I went by at noon and fed Dick’s dog. Appears to be all right for now. He’s in the back yard. Isn’t it strange how Dick talked about disliking animals—yet he’s made his backyard a canine paradise? There’s fresh drinking water in the fanciest doggie fountain I’ve ever seen. Plus tall shade trees, plenty of room to run, and a dog house with more square footage than your office. I’ll look for an upscale kennel, unless you want to set up something with a neighbor. One more thing. You need to call your mother.”
“Anita, you’re wonderful. Thank you.”
“You pay me to keep things organized, you know. I’ll see you Monday. And, Charlotte, call me if you need anything before then.”
“Thanks.” She could always count on Anita.
Charlotte looked in on Dick in the intensive care unit where he had been taken for the night. He was not conscious. Wires ran everywhere. She held his limp hand and said a prayer for his full recovery. After a thirty minute search, she found her car near the emergency room entrance.
CHAPTER THREE
Charlotte loved mornings. She was always awake by five-thirty. Before her feet touched the floor, she would say a very short “good morning” prayer to thank God for watching over her through the night and also for giving her another day to enjoy life. Then she would shower and wash her hair.
Oh, that hair. It was thick and fine and now long. After it was washed and detangled, Charlotte would spend twenty minutes with a blow dryer to get it almost dry. Then she would pull it up to her crown and secure it with a rubber band. Next, she made one long braid and wrapped it around like a cinnamon roll, securing it with bobby pins.
Three years ago, Charlotte heard about an organization that made wigs for children whose chemotherapy caused them to be temporarily bald. She was immediately convinced to grow a crop of hair for them. Her hair was abundantly thick—plenty for a wig or two.
Recently, she’d measured and found the braid was at last long enough to be acceptable to the wig-makers, plus a couple of inches extra. She didn’t regret her decision to donate her hair, but was nevertheless relieved the job was done. She’d waited almost a month to get an appointment to see her old hairdresser, but Charlotte felt it was worth it. After three years without a haircut, what was another month? Next week the shorn braid would be on its way to Florida.
After her shower and fussing with her hair, Charlotte made breakfast. She usually had toast and a boiled egg, or occasionally cereal. She would sit at the kitchen table with the sunlight streaming in, eat breakfast, sip tea, and read her Bible. Sometimes she would read a short devotional article also, but she always read from God’s word. For her, that was the only way to start the day off right.
Next, Charlotte said what she called her “serious” prayer. Sure, she talked to God briefly throughout the day, whenever she felt the need to send up a prayer dart. But morning prayer time was when she would go to her quiet place, kneel, and concentrate completely on communicating with her Heavenly Father. Among other things that particular morning, Charlotte asked for Dick’s full recovery, for wisdom to manage his affairs well, and for his granddaughters to be located.
As had been the case the previous evening, there was no answer from Lottie Browne. Charlotte knew her mother only answered when she happened to be in the mood. Lottie was convinced
her cell phone should be turned on only if she wanted to place a call.
Nothing new—Lottie had once again forgotten about asking her daughter to call and moved on to something else. Charlotte wondered when she became the parent and Lottie the child. Her mother was a great gad-about, involved in everything, and seemed to know everyone. Lottie bounced cheerfully from one scrape to another, depending on Charlotte to straighten out any messes left behind. When Lottie wanted to talk to her daughter, she could track her down to the end of the earth. However, when Charlotte wanted to talk to Lottie, she had to wait her turn.
Remembering the previous day’s discomfort, Charlotte put on flat shoes. She chose some dark slacks and a matching top with swirls of bright colors in it. The outfit would be both dressy and comfortable, exactly what she needed for a trying day.
Jerry was already at his office when Charlotte arrived almost a half-hour early. Visibly upset, Jerry acted more like a friend than an attorney. “What happened to Dick?” was his first question.
“The doctor said he had a stroke,” she replied. “They had to do surgery to stop the bleeding in his brain.” She felt the tears welling in her eyes, but held on to her self-control through sheer willpower. “They won’t know how much damage there was until he regains consciousness. Then they’ll be able to determine the extent. Jerry, listen to me,” Charlotte went on. “This may all be premature. Dick may get up and go home in a couple of days. Maybe we shouldn’t do anything for a while.”
Jerry’s eyes narrowed. “No way,” he said. “We’re going to do what Dick wants. Goodness knows I argued with him till I was blue in the face. But he wouldn’t hear it. And if you think for one instant I’m going to weasel out of what may be the last thing he ever asked me to do for him, you can think again, young lady.”
Charlotte realized the old man was doing the only thing he could for his dear friend. “You’re right, Jerry,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. What do I need to do?”
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