When the Sun Goes Down

by Gwynne Forster

  Gunther could feel his face creasing into a broad grin. “She said something like, ‘If he goes to church, he’s for me.’”

  The sparkle in Cory’s eyes betrayed his delight in hearing that she liked him, but his next words were those of a man both modest and cautious. “Do you think she’d mind if you gave me her phone number?”

  “I don’t think so. She’s had a difficult life, betrayed by those she depended on. I doubt she’ll trust easily.”

  “She’ll understand decency and sincerity,” Cory said, “and I won’t ask for more.”

  “My blessings to you both,” Gunther said, making it clear that he would be happy if the two of them developed a meaningful relationship.

  Gunther worked well that morning, and he could thank his intense concentration for his need to banish the pain of Edgar’s leaving. His design of spacewalkers in the shape of classical nutcrackers hadn’t satisfied him, so he’d trashed it and begun working on a family of cartoonlike characters who, with eagle eyes and falconlike wings, descended on Earth whenever they observed from their perches in outer space a need to settle earthly disputes. Riggs’s phone call interrupted his progress.

  “Hello, Donald. Any news about the tests?” he asked.

  “That and other things. When is a good time to get all of you here? We don’t need Mrs. Treadwell. I’ll send her a cashier’s check, but I do need to see you, Frieda, and Shirley. If Edgar comes back here and does as the will stipulates, he’ll have to abide by whatever decisions the three of you make.”

  “Mondays and Tuesdays are usually best for Shirley. She’s at my place now, but she’s leaving today.”

  “Unless Frieda can’t make it, we’ll meet here at my office next Monday. I’ll phone her and Shirley now.”

  “Is that your cell phone ringing, ma’am?” the taxi driver asked Shirley shortly after she got into his cab for the trip to BWI airport. She’d heard the phone, but knowing that it wouldn’t be Carson, she hadn’t bothered to answer it. She took it from her pocketbook and saw Riggs’s number in the caller ID screen.

  “Hello, Mr. Riggs.”

  “How are you, Shirley? Can you be in my office Monday morning at nine o’clock? I want to settle your father’s estate.”

  “But Edgar isn’t here.”

  “I’m aware of that. There are decisions to be made, and according to accepted practice, the majority rule. Edgar isn’t here, so he’d be the minority. See you Monday morning.”

  “All right. Thanks.” She hung up thinking that he hadn’t given her an alternative. She couldn’t blame the man if he’d had enough of dealings concerning that will. What had caused her father to write a will, have it properly executed, and then hide it, knowing that with or without it, his death would adversely affect his children and their relationships with each other?

  He was not innocent in this, she thought. That will aired his dirty linen, and after being honest when writing it, he decided he didn’t want us to know what an awful person he’d been in his youth. I deserve whatever he left to me, but considering how he let me struggle unnecessarily to get through school, I do not thank him.

  She settled back in her seat, anticipating the long ride to the airport. How she longed to talk with Carson and to be with him, but she knew that the next move was hers, and she couldn’t force herself to make it. She’d been comfortable staying in Gunther’s apartment, but her presence there had to inconvenience him, because he hadn’t once brought Caroline home with him. After the first of the year, she’d find a house or a condo. Maybe that would make it easier for her and Carson to mend their relationship.

  Her mind traveled back over the days since the reading of her father’s will. How easily she had accepted Frieda as her sister. Maybe it was because her father wouldn’t give a penny to anyone who didn’t truly deserve it. Or maybe because Frieda had cared for Gunther so lovingly when she was his nurse. The night after the reading of the will when Frieda stayed with Gunther and her, they’d had a wonderful time exchanging tales of their childhood. And all the while, she’d kept thinking that Edgar would have been a misfit there.

  At the airport, she paid the driver and was soon on her way to Fort Lauderdale with the memories of her happiness there with Carson weighing upon her.

  She went straight to the ship, checked into her stateroom, and called Frieda. “Nurse Davis speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Hi, sis. This is Shirley. I just—”

  Frieda interrupted her. “It had better be Shirley. If I get another surprise sister, I may not be able to stand it.” Laughter poured out of her. “How are you? And where are you?”

  She loved Frieda’s deep, throaty laugh. “I’m on the ship. I just checked in. Did Riggs ask you to be at his office Monday morning?”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t tell me the outcome of that test Gunther and I took.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “You bet I did, but he said the three of us would get that information together. My boss said I can have Monday off, but I gotta be at work Tuesday. Do you think Edgar really went to Africa and won’t come back here?”

  Shirley released a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately, Gunther’s right about that. I hate to think of it.”

  “Me too. He got on my last nerve, but I’d be happier if I thought he was having a good life. I hear tell just about everybody over there in Africa is poor, so what’s he gon’ do?”

  “A lot of Africans are living well, Frieda, but unless Edgar is very fortunate, I doubt he’ll be in that class.”

  “Well, worrying don’t do a bit of good. I’m gon’ say a few prayers for him and trust the good Lord to do the rest. Stress over something I can’t help is definitely not in my DNA.”

  “Frieda, you’re precious. I’m going to try and follow your example. See you Monday.”

  Monday arrived, and once more, the Farrell siblings sat in Donald Riggs’s office awaiting a verdict. “Glad to see everybody’s on time,” Riggs said. “Never waste another person’s time if you can avoid doing so. First, I want to congratulate Frieda on the proof that she is, indeed, Leon Farrell’s daughter. The test produced a ninety-nine-point-nine percent match. Of course, no one here doubted it.” He pointed to the man sitting beside him. “This is Timothy Hall, my accountant.”

  Timothy passed out several sheets of computer printouts. “This represents your father’s net worth minus the family home and its contents. If you sell the house and its valuables, you’ll net about six hundred thousand dollars to be divided among you. Excluding the house and what’s in it, each sibling gets one million, three hundred thousand dollars. If Edgar fails to do as the will states, you three will each receive an additional four hundred and thirty-three thousand dollars. The three of you decide what to do with the house and its contents.”

  “I’m dumbfounded,” Frieda said. “I thought I was gonna get four or five thousand dollars, and I could hardly wait for that. What I’m gon’ do with all that money?”

  “When the time comes, you’ll retire in comfort,” Riggs said.

  “Well, I tell you this,” she said. “You can bet I won’t die poor, not even if I live to be a hundred. The way I heard it, the postman just rings once, no matter what it said in that movie. I’m gon’ take good care of this blessing.”

  “What about the house?” Timothy asked them.

  Frieda looked first at Gunther and then at Shirley. “I don’t think we should sell that house as long as there’s a chance Edgar will come back. That’s his home.”

  “But it and its contents belong to the four of you,” Timothy said.

  It wasn’t his brother, so he could take that position, Frieda thought. Aloud, she said, “Look, I wouldn’t like to come back home and find that I didn’t have a home, not even if I was a millionaire. Besides, you shouldn’t kick a man when he’s down.”

  “I can’t insure it if nobody’s living there,” Riggs said, though he didn’t sound very firm about it. “What do you suggest?”

  “Fried
a has a good point,” Shirley said. She looked at Gunther. “Since we don’t need the money from that house right now, couldn’t we rent it for, say, a year? Fifteen months from now, we’ll know one way or the other.”

  “If Donald approves, then I say we do that,” Gunther said, “though I think we ought to store everything that’s really valuable.”

  “We’ve had everything appraised,” the accountant said, “so that should be easy.”

  Riggs tapped his pen on his desk in a rhythmic fashion. “Darned if you guys aren’t the most agreeable siblings I’ve ever dealt with in money matters. A teacher colleague of my wife’s needs a place, and I can vouch for him. He just got a divorce, and he’s childless.”

  Frieda’s cell phone rang. “Hello. Frieda speaking.”

  “Hello, Frieda. This is Cory Benjamin. Gunther introduced us a short while back, and I’d like to see you again. He told me you’d be in town this morning, and I’m hoping we can have lunch someplace before you head back to Orlando.”

  “Cory ... oh, dear! This is a big surprise. A real whopper. Yes, I’d like that.”

  “I’m not too far from that lawyer’s office. What time can I pick you up there?”

  “I think we’re about finished. I’ll wait here for you.”

  “Great. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

  She hung up, looked at Gunther, and said, “I think I’m going to faint. Cory Benjamin is taking me to lunch. Thank you for telling him I’d be here. One of these days, I’m gon’ get a chance to do something real nice for you, Gunther. You just wait and see.”

  “Don’t mess up like I did,” Shirley said.

  “Why can’t you fix it?” Frieda asked her. “Does the guy love you?” Shirley nodded. “Then where’s the problem? Your pride won’t keep you warm at night, but he will. If he hasn’t mistreated you, broken the law, cheated, or been too selfish to tolerate, straighten it out.”

  “He isn’t the problem,” Gunther said. “She is, and she hasn’t got a leg to stand on. She’s got a first-class man, and she resents the fact that he wouldn’t abandon his integrity and give her an unfair advantage over her siblings.”

  Frieda looked at Shirley with eyes that reflected the tragedies of her life. “When you’ve seen as much of life as I have, you’ll know that a self-respecting brother who’s got what you need and high standards to boot won’t come along many times in your life. If you love him, give him the respect he deserves and tell him you’re ashamed of yourself. ’Cause you ought to be.”

  “I’ve been telling her that. Maybe she’ll listen to you. I should be at my office. Frieda, hadn’t you better call your mom and tell her about the tests?”

  “You right. I was gon’ do that, and then Cory called. Well ... you know how it is.”

  She went into the little reception room, sat down, and dialed Coreen Treadwell’s number. “Hello. Glen Treadwell speaking.”

  “Hi, Glen. This is Frieda. Everything all right there?”

  “You bet. When are you coming? We’d like you to be here during the holidays.”

  “I’ll get there, Glen, but so many wonderful things are happening to me right now that I don’t know my head from my feet.”

  “That’s great, sis. Mom told us what’s happening, and I’m happy to hear it. But do your best to remain your natural, honest, and down-to-earth self. That’s what makes you so appealing. Don’t forget that.”

  “Thanks, Glen. I appreciate that. Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s ... Bless you, Frieda. I’ll call her. See you soon.”

  “Frieda? How’d it go, honey? I know what the outcome had to be, and I haven’t been a bit concerned.”

  “Hi, Mom. Everything is great. I got a wad of money, and I have no idea wh—”

  “Wait there! What did you call me?”

  Frieda had hoped Coreen wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. “Mom. Gunther shamed me. He said I was trying to punish you, and I wasn’t. It was easier than I thought.”

  “I’m not concerned with your reasons; I’m grateful that you came to this decision. I ... I had tried to accept that it would never happen. If you were here, I would hold you and hug you for honoring me this way. How are you getting along with the Farrell children?”

  “Wonderful. Gunther and Shirley treat me as if they’re happy that I’m their sister. Edgar apparently doesn’t plan to abide by the terms for his inheritance, because he left the country in a huff. Gunther said he went to Ghana, so the final settlement is about fifteen months away. I’m gon’ send some money to my two adoptive sisters, and I’m gon’ take my best friend to Italy next spring. If I can’t go, I’ll send her. I’m saving the rest, and eventually I’ll buy me a little piece of property.”

  “What about school?”

  “I’m doing that university course. In a couple of years, I’ll have my RN. I don’t know, Mom. I just met this guy, and he’s taking me to lunch. He’ll be here any minute.”

  “You mean the man Gunther introduced us to?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Just be yourself, and he’ll adore you. Be sure and come for Christmas.”

  “I may not be there Christmas Day, but you’ll see me just before or just after. Bye for now.”

  “I’m so glad you called. Good-bye, my daughter.”

  Frieda hung up, ready to embrace the whole world. “I guess there’s a time for all things. She my mom. I told her so, and I feel like I just had a good cathartic, or whatever it is you call those cleaning things. I sure wish Shirley could get herself straightened out. She such a sweet person.”

  Minutes after Shirley left Riggs’s office with Frieda and Gunther, Riggs set in motion the mechanism by which she would get an opportunity to do what Frieda wished for her.

  “One more thing,” Riggs said to his accountant. “We have to pay Carson for locating the will. He’s due six percent of a sibling share. I’ll give him a call.”

  However, at that moment, Carson was dealing with a matter of life or death—his own. He had located the jilter whom he had chased throughout Atlanta the previous week. Satisfied with a job well done, he drove the rented Lexus into the garage beneath the hotel in which he stayed. As he stepped out of the car, the hairs on his arms burned his skin, and his nerves seemed to rearrange themselves throughout his body. From experiences during his years as a police officer, his antenna shot up, and he swung around just as the man raised his revolver.

  Carson ducked behind the side of the car, but not quickly enough. He slid to the concrete, holding the fire-hot wound beneath his shoulder. With difficulty, he pulled the cell phone from his pocket, dialed the police, and reported that he’d been shot. Then he dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance. The police arrived first and took his report, and he awakened in a hospital room.

  “You’re a lucky man,” a doctor assured him. “An inch lower and that bullet would have punctured your lung.”

  “Yeah? If I was really lucky, the guy would have missed me. How long do I have to stay here?”

  “A couple of days. We want the wound to begin healing, and we have to make sure it doesn’t become infected. You lost a good deal of blood, too, so I want you to drink a lot of that juice.” He pointed to the container of V8 juice on the night table beside Carson’s bed.

  “You didn’t tell me when I can get out of here. Except for this pain, I feel fine.”

  “Wait until you stand up. If there are no reverses, you can leave day after tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean by reverses?”

  The doctor squinted his left eye, seemed on the verge of saying something, and then changed his mind. “A fever would suggest infection, and dizziness could be due to too much blood loss. Be glad you’ve got a bed to lie in. Patience can be a virtue.”

  “That’s a parable in which I truly believe,” Carson said, miffed at being lectured. “When did I get here?”

  “Yesterday afternoon.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned. I missed a whole day of my life
.” The doctor left, and he dozed off. The ringing sound came from afar, growing louder and louder until he awakened fully, sat up, and got his cell phone.

  “Hello. Montgomery speaking.”

  “Riggs here. I was wondering if you’d drop by this afternoon and collect your pay for finding that will. Settling this estate has become a full-time job.”

  “I’m still in Atlanta, and in a hospital, at that. A guy I fingered put a plug in my right shoulder, and I’m lucky. I saw him as he raised his revolver and jumped aside, or I’d have gotten it straight on.”

  “You’re telling me you got shot in the chest?”

  “Just below my shoulder bone. I hope to be out of here day after tomorrow. This is the last place I want to spend Christmas.”

  “I should think so. As of now, your pay, at six percent of a share, is seventy-eight thousand dollars plus fifteen hundred for expenses. I’ll have a certified check ready for you. If the siblings sell the house, its contents, and the land, we estimate that you’ll get about ten thousand more.”

  “You’re joking. That guy was loaded.”

  “Surprised me, too. Anything I can do for you there?”

  “Thanks, buddy, but the only thing I need is freedom from this pain. See you in a few days.” Riggs hung up, went into his reception room, and beckoned to Shirley.

  “Shirley, I just spoke with Carson. Are you aware that he’s in a hospital in Atlanta?”

  The shock of his words reverberated throughout her system. “What! Who said so?”

  “I spoke with him a minute ago.”

  “Thanks.” She hung up and dialed Carson’s cell phone number.

  “Hello, Shirley. I assume Riggs just called you.”

  “Yes, he did. Tell me how you are.”

  “Do you care?”

  “I didn’t call to be clever, Carson. You know I care. I want to know how you are. What hospital are you in?”

  “Don’t tell me you want to come down here and look after me.”

  “Are you asking me to eat humble pie? All right, I’ll do that. I’ve been miserable without you, and I ... Please forgive me for being selfish. Carson, for goodness’ sake, tell me how you are.”