by Mary Carmen
He quickly replied, “It was from the Leonard E. Murphy Scholarship Foundation. Amanda and Adam also received Murphy scholarships, based on my grades at Bucknell.”
“May I call you again? I want you to select which piece of real estate you would like me to leave you in my will.”
“That’s awfully generous,” Kenny said. “You sent all that money while we were growing up, and you gave us your house in Pittsburgh. Mom said she is leaving that to me in her will.”
I was puzzled. Certainly half my earnings went to Maude, but I did not believe that had been a large amount.
“Does your mother have enough money now?” I asked.
“Of course. That annuity you set up pays her three times what I make as a college instructor. She and my grandparents are very comfortable, living together in your house,” he told me.
Calling Amanda
A minute later I called Amanda, then thirty-seven. She answered right away.
“Amanda? This is your father, Anthony Waltrop,” I said.
“I don’t want to have anything to do with you!” she screamed. “You have no right to call me. You gave up all rights to your children when you abandoned us in 2077.”
I certainly was prepared for this response. Nevertheless, I countered with, “I made sure you had a home and enough money. You surely were aware your mother and I never had a warm relationship.”
“Don’t call me again! Now that I have your number, I am blocking it,” she said.
“Just block it from ringing, not messages,” I requested. “I will need you to sign a paper concerning your inheritance.”
“I’m not giving anything up,” she said. “You may want me to give you a quitclaim on your house, but you won’t get it. Mother says she’s going to leave it to me in her will, anyway.”
“I don’t think I will need a quitclaim,” I said.
“I know you are real vindictive about that house, but Mother says it was all legal. She got it from you legally. She said so.”
“And you believe her?” I asked.
“She was there for everything for me,” Amanda said. “Even after that big annuity started to pay off in 2081 and she was able to quit work. You never cared enough about us to even write.”
“Perhaps you will give Kenny a power of attorney to allow him to settle your inheritance,” I suggested.
“Oh, no! I’ll never give anybody a power of attorney. If there’s papers, you present them to a lawyer and I’ll come in and sign. You’re not going to get anything out of me.”
She cut off the phone.
Calling Adam
A minute later I called Adam, then thirty-three. After a few rings, he answered.
“Adam? This is your father, Anthony Waltrop,” I said.
“Yes, I have been hoping you would call,” he said. “Mother said you were visiting from Octula.”
“My return to Octula is quite unsettled right now. I will be in Pittsburgh for the foreseeable future,” I told him.
“Perhaps we can meet some time,” Adam said. “I have always wondered about you.”
“I would like that. Are you working? Do you live nearby?”
Adam was very quick to answer, unlike his siblings. “Yes, I have two jobs, really. I am a doctoral student at Princeton, and I have a job as a waiter at a restaurant here in Bradford. My wife, our two children, and I live just outside of Bradford, in Derrick City. My wife works in Derrick City.”
“When will you finish with your studies?” I asked.
“Hard to say, really. I’m stuck on my thesis, and Princeton has given me an extension because of my family situation. Maybe next spring, optimistically.”
I was very happy to hear he was somewhat settled. I asked, “Did you attend Princeton as an undergraduate?”
“No, I went to Bryn Mawr, just like Mom. Then, I used your name to get into Princeton for grad school. Hope you don’t mind. Your grades at Princeton were good enough to get me in, but your status as a contributing alum wasn’t good enough for me to get an alumni scholarship. Ken, Amanda, and I had Murphy scholarships, and they continued to pay me an allowance until just last year. Now, though, I have a real incentive to get my doctorate wrapped up.”
He had said he might be interested in meeting, so I said, “Your grandmother is in a retirement home here, and perhaps you and the family could come to Pittsburgh for a Sunday afternoon to meet both of us.”
“Can’t do Sundays. That’s my best day at the restaurant.”
I asked, “What is your monthly intake at the restaurant?”
“In a good month?” he asked. He then named a figure that seemed rather small for a man with two children.
“I will immediately send you a check for that amount, and I will arrange with my banker to have that same amount sent to you each month until you finish at Princeton,” I said. “Then, you spend the extra time working on your thesis.”
Adam hesitated and finally said, “That sounds very good. When I receive the letter from the banker, I can resign my restaurant job. Can I call you?”
“Yes, and I hope it will be within the next couple of weeks. I need to go to Vermont on business next month, and I would like to see you and your family before I leave,” I concluded.
Seeing the Children
Muzz had heard my half of the conversations, and he said after I concluded my conversation with Adam, “We could get to see them this week, you know.”
I had had lots of good advice from this man, but I did not know how we were going to manage these visits.
Muzz continued, “The Pirates are playing in the National League Championship this week against the Syracuse Mets. We could get tickets, leave them at the Will Call office, and hang around that office until they pick them up.”
“How are we going to get tickets? That series is sold out,” I replied.
“Leave it to me. We will need two tickets for us, two for Kenneth, four for Amanda, and four for Adam. I’ll try to get the children spread out so we can walk around to find them after the game starts, too.”
“This sounds underhanded,” I said. “But it might work. It may be the only way I get to see Amanda.”
“Don’t give up on Amanda. When she hears you are sending money to Adam, she will find some reason to kiss and make up,” Muzz speculated. “Money will heal wounds that time will never touch.”
The next day Muzz came into our sitting room and proclaimed, “Well, I’ve got the tickets. Expect a big bill from Muzz in about a month, but we’ve got tickets today!”
I dialed the telephone numbers with my message indicator set to on and left messages for each of the children. Then, Muzz and I took the tickets to the Pirates’ offices to submit them for Will Call.
Three days later, on a Friday, Muzz had his favorite wristwatch video camera ready to film the entire game, including an hour of Will Call watching. I had no idea whom we were going to find, if anybody, at the Will Call office.
The first person to arrive was Maude, with her ancient parents in tow. She stepped up to the window and asked for the tickets for Ms. Amanda Waltrop.
“Need some picture identification,” the clerk said. “Either your Medicare card or your Universal ID.”
“I’ll step out of line to find it for you,” Maude said. We did not see her again that day. She certainly had no Medicare card since she was only seventy, but neither card would have had Amanda’s name on it.
I slipped behind the hot dog stand while Muzz filmed the action at the Will Call, but I caught a glimpse of Maude before she left. Muzz and I were wearing fancy pirate’s masks, so she did not recognize us.
The next to arrive was Adam, with a beautiful woman and two ill-behaved children. These were my only grandchildren, and I was not pleased with my first impressions. Adam presented his picture ID and quickly entered the ballpark.
Kenny came up during the bottom of the first with a very handsome young man.
After two innings at the Will Call office, waiting for Amanda, we started to ma
ke our rounds. Muzz found the locations of the seats and the adjoining seat he had bought to facilitate the filming. He took pictures of Adam and his family and Kenny. We returned to the seats he had bought for Amanda during the third inning and during the seventh-inning stretch, but they were always empty.
“A pretty good haul,” Muzz said on the way back to our hotel. “We have two children, two partners, and two grandchildren. We also have good pictures of your ex-wife and her parents, if you ever need to confront her as an impersonator.”
“What about me with my pirate’s costume?”
“Everybody dresses up for these games,” he said.
Back to Wayne County
Just after my visit to my mother that next Sunday, Muzz-the-Bald and I left for Scranton to finalize the agreement with Mr. Johnson.
“I want to walk the properties with you to show you the orientations I am proposing,” he said. “Mid-October is just spectacular in these parts.”
The three sites in Wayne County were indeed beautiful with autumn colors. The several creeks were very low, and we had no trouble tramping around. Mr. Johnson showed us the directions the houses would be facing, and he himself made some corrections to the drawings.
Later, in his office, he went over the details of the interior plan and the exterior design.
“I propose three separate colors,” he said. “Each house will be a shade of orange or brown, and each house will have trim in the main colors of the other two houses.”
This sounded good to me, and I signed the final agreement, authorizing him to prepare the build sets. I used one of my checks to give him a thirty-percent deposit on the total price of the work, including the demolition and the construction.
“I’ll use a general contractor in Honesdale,” he said. “I’ve worked with her three times in the past, and I want to show you the quality of the construction.”
He drove Muzz and me around Scranton to see two homes and one office building, and we, too, were impressed with both the designs and the finished products.
When we were back in Pittsburgh, I looked over the balance in my bank account. I had spent less than fourteen percent of my fortune, even though I had remodeled my mother’s suite at the retirement home, sent money to Anna for Harrison’s education, paid my brother’s bill at the mortuary, erected a large gravestone for my father, bought the three Wayne County parcels, given a large check to Mr. Johnson, and paid the one-thousand-year taxes on the appraised value of the three parcels. I knew the county would reassess the properties after the construction and I would need to increase my deposits with the Tax Collector, but I felt I would have enough money to continue with my plans.
As it turned out, the three houses in Wayne County went well over the estimate. I fumed and fussed at Mr. Johnson, but I knew I had plenty of funds to cover the extra costs.
About that time I also gave up any notion of regaining my house from Maude. I was pleased to hear it would pass down to Kenny or Amanda, but I realized I would never live in it again. I started to consider other options.
Back to Mr. Eyres
Although Mr. Johnson would not begin the construction until the spring of 2111, I wanted to have Mr. Eyres start with the interior decoration.
“No, no, no,” he said. “It is one thing to decorate a suite for an old lady. It is quite another thing to work on a large house with no idea of the tastes of the prospective occupant.”
“Couldn’t you do something neutral that could be extended later?” I wondered.
“Here’s what I could do. I could put eight small beds with nightstands and closets in each of those dorms. I could put large beds in each of the bedrooms. I could put a nice table with six armchairs in each breakfast room. Then, you could give each child a credit with me to decorate the other rooms. Even if they added nothing, everybody would have a nice bed and a comfortable chair.”
This sounded like a good plan. Before they went to Wayne County, all that furniture would be in the houses and the lighting fixtures on Mr. Johnson’s plans would be installed. They could sleep and sit.
“Another thing. You need to get some housewares,” Mr. Eyres said. “Things like pots, pans, towels, sheets, dishes, glasses, silverware. I could order these and have them ready. Again, it would be better to let them pick things out.”
“It would be better to let you pick things out,” I snapped. “I have lived with their mother’s household items long enough to know they will buy cheap things, not things that will last.”
Mr. Eyres was ready to help, but he knew the furnishings would not be required for at least another year. Mr. Johnson had estimated an occupancy day of August 15, 2111, but, because he was an architect, nobody believed it.
I asked Mr. Eyres to call Mr. Johnson to get the exact specifications for the colors and to start to order furnishings so they could be put into the house on October 1, 2111. I signed a second agreement, including the usual debits to my credit card.
Looking at the Princeton Club
By November 1, I had contacted the Chief Muzz and asked for a year-long extension of the contract. I had grown accustomed to having a younger pair of eyes on the road. I had also been very happy with the advice and the friendship of the Muzz drivers.
When the Chief Muzz sent me the estimate, I was stunned. It was very reasonable, and I was amazed I would be able to extend for a year at that price. I called him to speak.
“Yes, we certainly made a bundle on that first year,” the Chief Muzz said. “No need to take you to the cleaners for a second year. Besides, the work is easy. No fussy kids, no stop and go, no boring shopping. The fellows like the job.”
“Where did you find these people?” I asked. “They are very wise and very kind.”
“Mostly washed-out college professors,” Chief Muzz told me. “Tired of the politics and the terrible race to publish anything, no matter how esoteric or trite. I also have three retired military officers and two defrocked Protestant clergymen. Your job has paid each driver more than he has ever made for a similar time period.”
Muzz-the-Greybeard had been busy looking for more permanent housing for me, and, by November 1, he had three situations to propose. Later that day Muzz-the-Greybeard and I went to view these situations.
The first was a beautiful apartment on the road that led to my mother’s home in New Kensington. It was just right for a single person, and it had two grocery stores and four restaurants within easy walking distance.
The second was a house that looked almost exactly like the one Maude had stolen from me. It had about an acre of ground and was located in a very nice suburban neighborhood near Edgewood. It had no shopping within walking distance.
The third was a two-room-with-bath suite at the Princeton Club in downtown Pittsburgh. This suite was much larger than my mother’s sitting room and her bedroom, and it had a very small library off one corner of the sitting room. It had a kitchenette behind a set of folding doors. The Princeton Club was near everything, and taxis went by the front door every couple of minutes to take me to New Kensington. The club had a small restaurant that operated for lunch and dinner every day, and the building was four blocks away from a major grocery store.
“If I were twenty-five and just starting out,” I told Muzz, “that apartment would be the best. Lots of room and plenty of other young people to have fun with.”
“Your health is very good,” Muzz said. “You could still have fun with that crowd.”
“On the other hand, if I were fifty and in my prime, that beautiful house with the grass and the rose bushes would be just right. I could feel comfortable there.”
“It is what you are owed,” Muzz insisted, “after all your successes here and on Octula. A reward for hard work.”
“But I am not as young as thirty years on Octula has allowed me to look. My heart and my muscles are seventy, and the situation at the Princeton Club is just right for now. The staff is trained to look after old fellows, and I will be able to grow older there very
comfortably, with an occasional bridge game in the lounge and maybe a good conversation, too.”
More at the Princeton Club
Mr. Eyres met us at the Princeton Club on Monday, November 3, 2110. He took his usual measurements and asked his usual prodding questions.
“Is this where you are planning to move all those Federalist reproductions after your mother no longer has a use for them?” he wondered. “And, what do you want for the interim?”
By that time I had decided I would not see Amanda. Adam had received several weeks’ worth of money and I had had no word from her. I decided I would have Mr. Eyres decorate the rooms at the Princeton Club with furnishings that would fit into one of the houses in Wayne County and I would transfer those things to Wayne County when my mother passed on. At that time, I would have Mr. Eyres redecorate the Princeton Club suite, if I were still able to live there.