Blackberry Crumble

by Josi S. Kilpack

  May frowned. “I didn’t think about that,” she said. “There’s a copy shop a few blocks over, though. I’ve got some errands to run, so I can make whatever copies you need.”

  “That will be great,” Sadie said with a smile. They both stood there, looking around.

  “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” May said.

  Sadie nodded. “Sounds good.”

  May left the room, closing the door behind her, and Sadie got down to business. May had said the cabinet on the right was business related, which meant the cabinet on the left was likely personal. She glanced at the door, and then moved to the left side of the desk. It was reasonable to want a glimpse at the man who was the reason she was here, and May hadn’t told her not to look. Besides, she would only spend a few minutes before she moved on to the business contracts.

  Chapter 26

  The top drawer of the filing cabinet was full of household information—home repair invoices, old bank statements, and personal files. Sadie fingered through the alphabetized files and pulled out the one marked “Leena.” Richard had said Leena had died when May was fifteen years old, and the death certificate from 1990 seemed to confirm that. Behind the death certificate were pages and pages of what looked like test results, medical reports, and the like. Sadie wondered why they were all still here; it had been twenty years since Leena had died. But she knew that sometimes it was hard to let go of people, of proof they were once alive. She wondered if she might still have similar things of Neil’s tucked away back home.

  Sadie reverently placed the file back in the cabinet drawer and moved on through home warranties and tax files that held years’ worth of receipts.

  When she came upon a file titled “Will—Legal Trust,” she pulled it out and opened it. There were five thin, professional-looking folders, each labeled “Will and Testament” with a date printed on the front and a notarized seal. The first folder was dated 1982, with the other folders dated roughly every four or five years after that. The last file was dated just a few years ago and the title had changed to “Living Trust.”

  Smart man, Sadie thought as she extracted the trust documents. Her brother, Jack, managed her financial affairs, and he had recently suggested she consider replacing her will with a legal trust. Per Jack’s explanation, Sadie would essentially create a trust which would then hold all her assets: home, stocks, bonds, certificates, and so on. She’d already decided that she’d probably appoint Jack as her trustee since he handled such things already.

  The trustee, under the supervision of an attorney, would manage the trust, and upon Sadie’s death, which she expected would be a long time from now—knock on wood—the trustee would then execute whatever wishes she had stipulated to happen when she died.

  Her late husband, Neil, had had a will, but because they owned everything in joint, she was able to avoid probate, and settling his will was fairly simply. When Sadie’s father was first diagnosed with colon cancer, Jack had him draft his own living trust, and due to Jack’s insight, they had avoided a lot of the legal and emotional toll of settling his estate as well. She was relieved to know that despite the heavy loss Jim Sanderson’s children were shouldering, he had taken care of so many details, saving them what could be months of trying to put his affairs in order without him there to help.

  Sadie skimmed through the first parts of the trust, which explained the way assets would be managed while he was alive, until she finally came to the “On Death” portion of the document. She was surprised to see it was written in first person, as though Jim himself were speaking to his heirs. It was a nice touch.

  On death, all assets of trust, both business and personal, are to be divided equally among my three children, Jolene, Hugh, and Sharla-May. They will each receive equal amounts of all insurance settlements and account balances after expenses are paid, and will become equal partners in S&S Suppression.

  Should any of the three want to take full ownership of the house on Poplar, they are to receive three appraisals and go with the median assessment amount, buying out their siblings legally and fairly.

  In the event that I outlive any of my heirs, their portion is to be divided equally between those remaining, except in the case of my daughter Jolene. Her portion of my personal assets and balances will revert directly to her only living child, Bryce G. Tracey, to be held in trust until he reaches the age of twenty-five. Inheritance is not subject to reassignment to spouses.

  In the event of Jolene not inheriting, Hugh and Sharla-May will absorb her portion of S&S Suppression and be 50/50 partners. All distributions and reassignment of rights and titles are to be executed by Rylin, Schow, and Freeburg, attorneys at law.

  If liquid assets allow, the first cash amount shall be distributed within thirty days of my death, after funeral expenses are paid, and is not to exceed $10,000 dollars each.

  That’s where the expensive purse had come from, Sadie thought, thinking back to May’s white handbag. It also helped explain how May could afford to pay for Sadie’s services.

  Jim’s wishes of what should happen to his estate upon his death didn’t present anything unique, but Sadie deduced that Hugh, like May, was childless and without anyone to inherit in his place at the time this trust document had last been revised. She found that rather sad. Jim Sanderson had three children who should have netted him several grandchildren by now. Instead, he had only one. It was one of Sadie’s greatest fears that she’d be denied the opportunity to be a grandparent, and she felt for Jim. She hoped he had enjoyed Jolene’s son as much as he possibly could.

  As she returned the file to the cabinet, she wondered if May planned to have children at some point. If she was in her early thirties, there was time yet to have a family, assuming she found the right man to make a family with.

  Richard Kelly had been that man once upon a time, and while Sadie didn’t want to let her romantic notions get too far ahead of her, she wondered if perhaps he might still be May’s happily-ever-after. She shut the drawer with a snap and was ready to open the next drawer down when the study door opened. She quickly pulled her hand away from the cabinet and turned around.

  “How’s it going?” May asked from the doorway.

  Sadie was well aware that she was on the wrong side of the desk but hoped her smile would cover her guilty conscience. May looked from Sadie to the unwrapped package of file boxes still on the floor.

  “I’m just getting my bearings,” Sadie said, desperately scanning for an excuse as to why she hadn’t even opened the business filing cabinet yet. Her eyes landed on the bookshelf a few feet away from the cabinet she had been looking through. “Your dad was very well-read,” she said, stepping forward and skimming titles, looking for a book that would explain her interest. Unfortunately, at first glance all she could see were titles related to physics, operational systems, and obscure topics such as the density of alloys and mathematical theories related to the universe.

  “He had an amazing mind for science,” May said, but she sounded a little flat, as though she knew something wasn’t quite right. “I wondered if you wanted a drink or anything.”

  “A glass of water would be great,” Sadie said, heading to the right-hand filing cabinet as though satisfied with her inspection of the bookshelves. “Thank you.”

  May smiled and left the room, leaving the door open. Sadie winced at her own lack of professionalism and reminded herself that this job was not about satisfying her personal curiosity. By the time May returned, Sadie had assembled two file storage boxes and was pursuing a file marked “Partnership SK—Original,” hoping she looked studious. May put a glass of ice water on the desk, along with a wicker coaster—the glass was already sweating—and asked Sadie if she needed anything else.

  “I think I’m good for now,” Sadie said, scanning the page with her best concentrating-teacher expression. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay,” May said with a quick nod. “I’ll, um, be in the kitchen.”

  She left a moment
later, again leaving the door partially open. Sadie couldn’t help but wonder if she wanted to keep a closer eye on Sadie. She hated having given May a reason not to trust her and was more determined than ever to meet the woman’s expectations.

  “Focus,” she whispered to herself. Then she took a deep breath and did just that, determined that the next time May checked on her, she’d have no reason to worry about how Sadie was using her time.

  Chapter 27

  It was a little past noon when Sadie took a final sip of her water. The remaining semi-melted cubes clattered around the bottom of the glass as she returned it to the coaster. She surveyed her work and smiled at her progress. She had two file boxes partially filled. One held files with no mention of Keith Kelly, while the other contained all the files with any information about Jim Sanderson’s former business partner, but which didn’t seem particularly important. Sadie wanted easy access to them if she needed to go back.

  In addition to the boxes, she had a stack of nearly a dozen files with documents she wanted personal copies off. They included business contracts, loan pay-off documentation, and a few letters of correspondence between Jim and Keith that took place after they had split the company. Sadie had only skimmed the papers, wanting to get as much work done as possible before taking the time to focus on individual details. That’s why she needed copies. But she also needed a break. And food.

  She’d enjoyed the hotel’s continental breakfast, but was in need of an actual meal. She wondered if May would be opposed to her throwing something together. Being in berry country during berry season made Annie’s triple-berry salad an absolute must, so long as May wouldn’t mind Sadie running by the grocery store when she went out for copies. She’d already determined to make the copies herself since it would be difficult to lay out exactly what she wanted May to copy for her. The more she thought about Annie’s salad—which she hadn’t been able to fully enjoy at the ladies’ auxiliary meeting due to her unhealthy stress level at the time—the better it sounded.

  “May?” Sadie asked quietly as she approached the kitchen, files in hand.

  May was wrapping wine glasses in newspaper and putting them into a specially designed moving box with cardboard partitions that created twenty-four smaller squares to keep the glasses separated.

  “I’m going to head out and make some copies,” she said, holding up the stack of files. She moved to the far side of the kitchen so as not to get in the way of May’s tasks at hand.

  “Did you find anything?” May asked hopefully.

  “Maybe,” Sadie said, keeping her answer ambiguous. She didn’t want to raise or lower May’s hopes too much. “I’d like to go over them in more detail, though. And I wondered if you had plans for lunch? My friend Annie has a recipe for a triple-berry salad that is just calling out to me, and I thought it would make a wonderful lunch for the two of us—really keep the energy up.”

  “Well, I didn’t pick up much when I went to the store,” May said. Her tone was still a little flat for Sadie’s taste. Maybe some of Sadie’s yummy salad would help their relationship get back on track. Everyone knew that people who made salads were of good solid character.

  “I could go grocery shopping after I make copies,” she suggested.

  “Well, I guess it is about lunchtime and—”

  She was interrupted by a knock at the kitchen door.

  “Just a minute,” May said, turning to the door and pulling it open. The door blocked Sadie’s view, but she heard a woman’s voice saying that she was glad she’d caught May at home. Sadie casually moved to the other side of the island so she could get a look at the visitor.

  The woman at the door was older than Sadie by at least fifteen years and had starkly dyed black hair done in the typical, old-lady-ratted hairdo that looked like black cotton candy. Her eyebrows were penciled, her shoulders and arms thin, but her skin was tanned, her eyes were bright, and her dentures were shining in the summer sunlight. She was wearing denim shorts that came to the tops of her wrinkled knees, flip-flops Sadie suspected were orthopedic, and a T-shirt that said “Read My Lipstick.”

  Sadie liked her immediately—even before her eyes were drawn to the plate of muffins covered with plastic wrap the woman held in her hands. Muffins would be a perfect complement to the triple-berry salad. What luck!

  “Lois,” May said, releasing the door and stepping into an embrace with the woman, who was a few inches shorter than May, probably no taller than five foot two. Lois slid the plate of muffins onto the counter in order to hug May back properly. If she weighed a hundred pounds it would be because she had quarters in her pockets and cement in the thick soles of her sandals.

  May stepped back, both women holding the upper arms of the other and drinking each other in. “It’s been a long time,” May said. “You look wonderful.”

  Lois made a coy face, glancing at the ceiling briefly and letting go of May’s arms. “Oh, go on,” she said, fanning herself as though overheated, while she batted her sparsely lashed eyes. “I’ll pay you a quarter for every nice thing you can say about how good I look.”

  May laughed, the first genuine laugh Sadie had heard from her. “You’ll send me to the poorhouse if I do that.” She looked at the muffins and raised her eyebrows. “Are these what I think they are?”

  “I couldn’t come over and say hello empty-handed, now could I? Blueberry walnut—isn’t that your favorite?”

  “Of course,” May said, and she seemed lighter. “Thank you, that was very sweet of you. But you don’t have to bring me offerings in order to stop by, you know that.”

  “Yes, I do,” Lois said with a nod. “And don’t try to change me because—”

  “You’re too old and set in your ways,” May finished. “You’ve been telling me that for thirty years.” She laughed at the memory of what was obviously a shared joke between them.

  Lois laughed too, raising a hand to her mouth, probably to make sure her dentures didn’t fall out. Sadie had seen that happen before at the nursing home. It wasn’t pretty, but unless someone could afford new dentures every year or so, it was difficult to have a perfect fit with those things.

  Once Lois recovered from her giggling, she continued, “I’ve been dying to say hello ever since Jolene said you were coming, but I was sailing out by Waldport ’til this morning. How are you, my dear?”

  “Come inside,” May said with a smile, waving Lois inside and shutting the door. She headed back to where she was wrapping glasses, which said volumes about her relationship with this woman—absolute comfort.

  Lois looked at Sadie, who smiled a hello, which Lois returned before following May to the counter and pulling a piece of newspaper off the stack. She grabbed a glass out of the cupboard.

  “I sure wish one of you kids would keep the house,” Lois said, wrapping the glass and sliding it into the box. “It won’t be the same without a Sanderson living here.”

  May smiled and looked regretful. “I thought maybe Hugh would take it, but he said he can’t afford it, and he seems to like his little condo in Old Town. Jolene, well . . . They aren’t making a lot of big changes right now.”

  “Poor Jo-Jo,” Lois said softly. She put a hand on May’s and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. “Poor May.”

  May glanced at her quickly and smiled, but looked embarrassed by the attention. “We had estate stuff all day yesterday,” she said, changing the subject. “Dad hadn’t redone the trust for a few years, so there were some things we had to work out, but it’s coming together pretty well.”

  Lois pulled her hand away and shook her head. “It just breaks my heart to see you all going through this again.”

  She carefully rolled another fluted glass in the paper, pausing to fold the corners into the bell of the cup.

  Again, Sadie noted. May had said she’d grown up here, so Lois would have known the family when Leena passed away. She watched for May’s response to Lois’s comment, which began with a thoughtful silence, then a sigh. “I certainly wasn’
t expecting it,” she said in a soft voice that sounded hungry for validation. “I can’t believe I spent the last ten years of his life so far away.”

  Lois put the wrapped glass in the box and placed a hand on May’s shoulder. Sadie noted it was the third time she’d demonstrated affection through touch; she was definitely a touchy-feely type of neighbor. Sadie wondered if perhaps she’d even filled the role of a mother figure for May after Leena had died.

  “Your dad never held your leaving against you, you know that, right? He understood the need for distance,” Lois said.

  May nodded, but in the process of looking up seemed to realize Sadie was still there. Sadie smiled, not the least bit bothered by having been forgotten. Being a fly on the wall for this conversation had helped to verify some of the things Richard had said, or at least support them.