But their two children, Martin and Marlene, as well as their spouses and children and their children’s spouses and grandchildren—numbering more than twenty—had all shown up to show their respect to Aunt Dee. Combined with friends and neighbors, Daphne estimated there were more than a hundred coming and going through the house throughout the afternoon. Still, it was worth the effort. Daphne imagined her aunt smiling down on all the people milling about, visiting, reminiscing, and enjoying a big reunion in her honor.
After several hours, and after all the neighbors and friends had gone their separate ways, Daphne was a bit surprised to see all the family members seemed to be lingering. It was touching to think that they loved Aunt Dee so much that they didn’t want to leave, but some of the small children seemed to be getting tired—and getting into things. Daphne had already hidden the terrorized Ethel and Lucy in an upstairs bedroom. And now some of her cousins’ older kids were taking a toll on the flowers as they improvised a game of soccer in the backyard.
“Why are they staying so long?” Daphne whispered to her dad as they cleaned up in the kitchen.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?”
“Tell me?” She rinsed a platter and set it in the dishwasher.
“Dee’s attorney is coming at four.”
Daphne looked at the kitchen clock. “Well, it’s nearly four now. What is the attorney going to do?”
“The reading of the will.”
“Oh . . .” Daphne closed the dishwasher. “And everyone is staying for it?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “Martin asked that it be read with everyone present.”
“I see . . .” Martin was Louisa’s oldest son, and although he was an attorney, he had not been Aunt Dee’s attorney. Daphne knew this because she’d heard him complaining about it earlier.
“Did you notice that Ricardo Martoni and his mother came by to pay their respects?” Dad hung up a dish towel.
“Yes. I had a nice little chat with Maria. I didn’t realize she was widowed.” She elbowed her Dad in a teasing way. “Pretty good-looking too for being in her midsixties. Maybe you should give her a call.”
Dad looked embarrassed. “Well, you did meet Karen, didn’t you? I thought I saw you two talking.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head to one side. “Does that mean you and Karen are getting serious?”
Unless she was mistaken, her dad was blushing.
“Sorry. It’s really none of my business.”
He nodded. “But I’m curious . . . what did you think of her?”
Daphne thought about the energetic blonde Realtor who had chatted with enthusiasm about what kind of price Aunt Dee’s house might fetch in today’s market. “Sure, I liked her. She seems intelligent and motivated and interesting.”
Dad smiled. “Yes, she is, isn’t she?”
“Hello?” called a male voice. “Don, are you in there?”
Dad called back, and now a man wearing a dark gray suit came into the kitchen. He had thick, dark hair with a speckling of gray. “Oh, you must be Daphne.” He reached out for her hand, firmly shaking it. “I’m Jake McPheeters.”
“Aunt Dee’s attorney,” Dad explained.
“I would know you anywhere.” Jake released her hand.
“Really?” She was surprised.
“Absolutely. Dee told me you looked like Lucille Ball in her younger years. And I must agree with her.”
Daphne felt her own cheeks flushing now. “Well, that’s flattering, but I don’t know . . .”
“Speaking of that, how are Lucy and Ethel faring?”
“They’re okay,” she told him. “I tucked them into a quiet bedroom for safekeeping.”
“So, want to round up the relatives?” Jake held up his briefcase. “This really shouldn’t take long.”
“Sure.” Dad nodded. “I’ll go tell everyone to gather in the front room.”
“You ready for this?” Jake asked Daphne.
“Sure.” She turned on the dishwasher, then gave the counter a swipe. “Let’s get it over with.”
Before long, all of the adults and many of the children were crowded into the front room. Some were sitting on chairs, some on the floor, and a few of the younger ones were standing. Jake went over to the foot of the staircase. He had a buttoned-down look, like he belonged in Manhattan or GQ. He opened his briefcase, slid out a file, and removed a single piece of paper.
“As I just told Don and Daphne in the kitchen, this shouldn’t take long. In fact, I wouldn’t have bothered to gather everyone together like this, but Don told me it was the family’s request.” He held up the page. “As you can see there’s not much to read. And interestingly, as much as Daphne Ballinger loved words and writing, her last will and testament is surprisingly brief and succinct.”
He cleared his throat and began to read the traditional beginning of a will, stating Aunt Dee’s full name and that she was of sound mind . . . but Daphne’s mind wandered as she noticed one of her second or third cousins on the other side of the room. The mischievous boy was stripping the lower leaves off of Aunt Dee’s beloved philodendron plant and piling the big glossy leaves on the floor in front of him like he intended to make a campfire. Why didn’t someone stop him?
“What on earth?” a woman spoke sharply, and Daphne looked up from the naughty boy and over to where Marlene and her husband were sitting on the sofa next to Aunt Louisa. They all looked upset.
“How can she do that?” Marlene demanded. “It’s not fair.”
“Dee expected she’d be met with some resistance. But I assure you, we’ve written it all up very tightly.”
“You’re saying that everything goes to Daphne?” Martin asked him. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“Everything.” Jake looked at Daphne. “You and I can go over the other details of her will later . . . privately.”
A shockwave ran through Daphne. What had she missed?
“But how could she do that?” one of the other cousins asked. “We were all as much related to Aunt Dee as Daphne was—why does Daphne get everything?”
“Because that is what Dee wanted.” Jake slid the paper back into the file folder and back into his briefcase.
“But what about this house?” another cousin said. “Wasn’t it in the family? Didn’t Aunt Dee inherit it from our grandparents? Shouldn’t it be shared equally with all the descendants?”
“Dee purchased this house herself,” Dad firmly told them. “Our parents’ house was on the other side of town—the three children, Dennis and Daphne and me, we all inherited equal thirds of that house when Mother passed away.” He looked at Aunt Louisa. “Surely you remember that? You and Dennis used your portion to go to Europe. Remember?”
Aunt Louisa looked confused. “I . . . I don’t really recall.”
“Anyway, it wouldn’t matter where Dee’s money came from,” Jake told them. “This house and all of Dee Ballinger’s property belonged to her and to her alone. And now it will all belong to Daphne.”
“But that’s so unfair,” someone else said.
Jake came over to Daphne. “Care to make an exit with me?” he said quietly.
“But I should—”
“Go ahead, Daphne,” Dad said urgently. “I’ll take care of things here. I’ll lock up.”
“Come on.” Jake took her by the arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I don’t get this,” someone said loud enough for Daphne to hear as Jake led her to the front door. “Daphne moves away from Appleton and hardly ever comes back. Meanwhile I came to visit Aunt Dee at least once a month and now Daphne gets everything.”
“It’s not fair,” someone said again.
Jake firmly closed the door. “My car’s down the street. I was afraid it would go like this.”
“But I don�
��t understand.” She looked over her shoulder. “Just moments ago we were all friends and everyone was so nice and—”
“It’s always like this. Following a funeral, families are congenial and pleasant—and then the will is read and suddenly they all turn against each other.” He shook his head as he opened the door to a tan SUV. “It’s sad.”
She slid onto the leather seat, trying to comprehend what had just transpired. Aunt Dee had left her house to her? It was very sweet . . . but why didn’t she just leave it to all the cousins? Really, that would’ve been more fair.
“How about if we get coffee?” he said as he drove away.
“Sure.” She studied his handsome profile, trying to determine his age. Although his thick, dark hair was peppered with gray, she didn’t think he could be much over forty.
“And I’ll explain it all to you.”
Before long they were seated at the Red River Coffee Company. She’d never even seen this place before, but with its recycled wood floors, retro collectibles, and old-fashioned overstuffed furnishings, she found it cozy and charming. With her hand wrapped around her mug of latte, she asked Jake to explain her aunt’s thinking.
“Obviously, Dee loved you, Daphne. You were her namesake . . . and something more.”
“Something more?”
Jake began to tell her the story of Dee as a young woman in college more than seventy years ago. “As you can imagine not too many women continued their education back in the forties. But Dee was a smart, determined woman.”
“Yes, I know about all that. Aunt Dee told me—”
“You don’t know all of it, Daphne. Dee had a secret.” He chuckled. “In fact, she had a lot of secrets.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dee became pregnant in her second year at the university.”
“Really?” Daphne blinked. “Aunt Dee has a child?”
“Yes. Your father.”
“Dad?” Daphne tried to wrap her head around this. “But Aunt Dee was his sister . . .”
“Yes, that’s what Dee’s parents led everyone to believe. I’m not even sure of all the details, but according to Dee, her parents relocated to Appleton shortly after your dad was born. Daphne returned to college and her parents raised your father as their son. It was just simpler for everyone that way.”
Daphne could partially understand this. It made sense on a number of levels. “That would explain the age gap between Aunt Dee and Dad.”
“And why Dee favored you. You’re her granddaughter.”
“Does Dad know about this?”
He shook his head. “Dee wasn’t sure she wanted him to know. She was worried that he’d feel disappointed in her . . . or that his life was a lie. She didn’t want to hurt him. But she seemed to feel that you would understand.”
Daphne pressed her lips together, trying to imagine how it must’ve been for Aunt Dee, knowing that Dad was really her son, Daphne was her granddaughter, and yet for her entire life, she played that she was only a sister and a spinster aunt.
“This is a lot to take in,” Daphne admitted. “But in hindsight, it all adds up. I could always tell that Aunt Dee favored Dad over Uncle Dennis. And I was closer to her than my cousins. I suppose that’s why.” She smiled. “It’s actually sort of cool to think that Aunt Dee was really my grandma. No wonder we were so close.” Her smile faded. “I sure wish the rest of the family knew about her secret. . . . It might make this whole thing easier.”
“I suppose it’s up to you whether you disclose this or not. I know Dee wasn’t eager to make her past public. But she has entrusted all her secrets to you.”
“If my cousins knew Dee was my grandmother, they might not be so angry at me for inheriting everything.”
“Well, if it’s any comfort, once they recover from the surprise of not getting a piece of the pie, they will probably return to normal . . . in time. Unless your lawyer cousin Martin tries to contest the will. Dee was worried he might.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“It’ll be a waste of his time. Trust me, this will is airtight.”
She took a slow sip of coffee. “So that wonderful house really belongs to me.” She shook her head. “Wow.”
“It’s actually a bit more involved than that.”
“What do you mean?” She set her cup down.
“Well, we don’t have to go over everything today. I mean, I’d understand if you’re feeling overwhelmed. It’s a lot to take in and I’m not sure how you’ll react to the rest of the news. So I’m glad to meet with you another time to go over—”
“No, I think I’d like to hear it all today. If you don’t mind.” She forced a smile. “Did Aunt Dee have a pile of debt? Unpaid taxes? Some other skeletons in the closet?”
“Not exactly.” He offered an uneasy smile. “It’s just that your inheritance has some strings attached. Some very specific strings.”
“What kind of strings?”
He pulled something more bulky out of his briefcase now. “It’s all written up in legal language, but if you like I can explain it in plain English first. And then you can read through the whole will at your leisure.”
“Yes please, do give me the condensed version.” She nodded eagerly. “I think my brain is a little fuzzy after all the funeral preparations and decisions for the burial service and preparing the luncheon. Keep it simple.”
“Okay.” He held up one finger. “First of all, you have to be willing to take over Dee’s advice column.”
“Advice column?” She frowned. “You mean she wrote something for the local paper?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it does run in the local paper.” He grinned. “As well as the paper you work for.”
“The New York Times?”
“Have you ever read Dear Daphne?”
“Dear Daphne?” She felt her eyes getting large. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Are you saying that Aunt Dee—I mean, my grandmother—was Daphne Delacorte? She wrote—Dear Daphne?” She stared at him in wonder.
“Uh-huh. Dee started writing it back during World War II. So many couples were in tricky relationships, men overseas, women working like men at home, hasty marriages—it was a perfect setup for an advice column. And Dee had a knack for coming up with good answers. Her column was a hit and started getting picked up by other papers. It became syndicated in the fifties, and she’s been writing it ever since. Although I’ve notified the papers that she’s on hiatus, so they will be running some of her old pieces for the next couple of weeks.”
Daphne put a hand to her cheek. “I cannot believe it. I’ve always loved that column. My best friend in New York used to give me a bad time for liking it so much. She thought it was hopelessly old-fashioned. Sometimes she’d tease me, saying that since my name was Daphne and I worked for the newspaper and was a little old-fashioned myself, that I should take over the column.”
“Interesting.” His dark eyes glimmered with amusement.
“Why is that interesting?”
“Because Dee wants you to quit your job in New York and write her column.”
Daphne frowned. “You’re kidding?”
“No. Dee was very loyal to her readers. She wanted the column to live on after she was gone. She felt that you have what it takes to do it.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“I’m sure you think it was presumptuous of her. The truth is, I actually tried to talk her out of it. But she wouldn’t hear of it. Your grandmother had an iron will.”
Daphne nodded. “Yes. I know once she made up her mind about something . . . you couldn’t talk her out of it.”
“So what do you think? Are you amenable to this?”
“I’m curious . . . what if I’m not?”
> He grimly shook his head. “Then Dee’s entire estate will go into a trust fund for the Cat House.”
“The Cat House?”
“The pet shelter where she adopted Lucy and Ethel. She’s been a contributor to them ever since.”
“Oh yes, I remember the Cat House now. Aunt Dee really liked that they never euthanized cats. And they ran free spay and neuter clinics for impoverished families. I guess it’s not surprising she would remember them in her will.” Daphne hated to imagine how her relatives would’ve reacted if all of Aunt Dee’s estate had been left to the Cat House. Martin would probably claim that Aunt Dee was senile.
“So what do you think about the first stipulation?”
She shrugged. “Well, I am a writer . . . and I wouldn’t mind trying to write Dear Daphne.” She frowned. “But what if I’m no good at it? Or the readers hate me? And the newspapers cancel and—”
“She only expected you to try, Daphne. And to do your best.” He smiled. “She believed in you. She assured me you could do it.”
“I’ll try.”
His cell phone rang. “Excuse me, I promised to take this call.”
She nodded and, leaning back with her now-lukewarm coffee, attempted to replay the strange things she’d just heard about Aunt Dee . . . a.k.a. Grandma Dee as well as the Daphne Delacorte of Dear Daphne. It was all rather mind-blowing.
She tried not to eavesdrop on Jake’s conversation, which was difficult. But if he didn’t want to be overheard, he should’ve left the table. As it was, she could tell he was talking to someone named Jenna, and based on what she was hearing, she suspected Jenna was his “significant other” and that she was worried that Jake was going to be late for something this evening.
Was Jenna his wife? Although he had no wedding ring and for some reason, perhaps just hopeful thinking, she had assumed he was unmarried. Perhaps Jenna was a fiancée or girlfriend. Perhaps it was none of her business.
Lock, Stock, and Over a Barrel Page 4