"Before the baby was even born she was turned down by the people who investigate prospective parents. They said she was too old to be raisin’ a baby.
"Your father and I had been on the list to adopt a healthy baby for three years and hadn’t gotten one call. Finally, we were contacted and told to go to Oklahoma City and pick up our new baby girl. That baby was Larry Grogan’s little one. Essie suspected as much. She called and asked to come and see you. I agreed to allow her that much, but when she wanted to be a full part of your life as your grandmother, I drew the line. I was young, selfish, and waited too long for my own little baby. I wanted you to have our parents as your grandparents. I wanted you to have Jim as your daddy, not a picture of a young man in an Air Force uniform. I didn’t want you confused about your life and who you were. Tellin’ you that you were adopted was the hardest thing your dad and I ever did. We were not about to tell you that your natural grandmother lived just blocks away in that big old rock house on the corner.
“I’ll bet little Essie left you the truth in a letter. She may have left you her home. I can’t imagine her havin’ much of an estate, though. There, I’ve told you all I know. Please, don’t be angry with me for keepin’ it from you. Essie was a good woman; I wish you could have known her. I promised her I would introduce you to her when you were older, but I kept losing my nerve. I just never could risk losin’ you or hurtin’ you.”
“So, what ever happened to the banker’s daughter?”
“She went off to school in Europe for a while then came home and died of a drug overdose in her parent’s garage. She just never got over the loss of Larry and their baby. She never knew us or that her child ended up in her hometown. The only good thing that came out of that whole affair was you, and I aimed to keep it that way.”
“Thanks for telling me the truth before I go in to see that attorney. I love you too much to be angry with you for protecting me. You are one remarkable woman,” Julie said as she hugged her mom.
Julie and Karla had just finished unloading the truck when the first drops of rain began to fall. By the time they returned it and got back to the house, the rain came down in torrents. Julie hoped it would continue into the night so she could hear it on the roof. As soon as they got in the house, she took her luggage upstairs to her room. Karla helped her unpack as they talked about what they were going to do on the first leg of the tour in New York.
“Mom, I’m so happy that you are going on the tour with me. I got tickets to see a couple of shows on Broadway, but they are a surprise, so don’t ask which ones,” Julie said as she hung her last garment bag in the closet.
“I won’t ask; you know how I love surprises. By the way, Martha Newberry is so jealous because you have a book published. She was green with envy when I showed her the reviews and that story about you in the Oklahoma City Times. She is always bragging about how Barbara got Teacher of the Year and has given her three grandchildren. I think that is great, but she always mentions it and follows with, ‘So, is Julie still teachin’ in that private school and is she married yet?’ I just want to choke her…bless her heart.”
“Now, Mom, she has the right to be proud of Barbara. She always wanted to be a teacher, even in third grade. She may not have been very popular in school but she was a good student and a very nice person, in spite of her mother. I, on the other hand, had never planned to be a teacher. I did try to pass on a bit of writing technique to my students. If they had wanted to learn, I might have become a good teacher. Truly, I earned my doctorate degree so I could be the best writer I could be. The college where I tried to teach was for the salary that afforded me the means to write. Barbara teaches because she loves it and has grandbabies for her mother because she has a loving husband. Mom, I’m not competing with Barbara. She can have all the children she wants. I’m not ready to be a mother. I don’t even have a boyfriend, much less a husband. My biological clock still has a couple of years on it. My book is my baby right now.” The thunder crashed and the lights went out.
“Somebody is tryin’ to tell you somethin’, Julie.”
“No, he’s talking to you about trying to marry off your daughter just to get grandchildren, so shame on you!” They both laughed as they groped in the dark to find a flashlight.
Julie walked in to Chance Lightning’s office at 9:45. She introduced herself to the receptionist and asked if Mr. Lightning was in.
MaryCarol smiled and got up from her desk and answered with, “Sure is and waiting for you. Want some coffee? I was just taking some in to him.”
“Thanks, but no. My mother gets up at 5:00am just to see how much caffeine she can drown a person in before nine.”
“Follow me, it’s down this hall. He comes in at 7:30 every morning to go over his appointment book but never schedules anything before 10:00. I come in at 9:00 and make coffee. I don’t know if he drinks some at home first but he always asks me to please make it as soon as I get in the door. I’m not a coffee drinker. Funny, he’s the only one who drinks it but spent days teaching me to make it.”
“Here’s your coffee and your first appointment, Chance.”
He stood up and extended a hand to Julie. He was, just as her mother described, tall, dark, and very handsome. MaryCarol handed him a file and left the office.
“Well, Ms. Stockton, nice to meet you. Your mother has told me a lot about you. I’ve read your book and enjoyed it very much. Just have a seat, and we’ll go over Essie’s last will and testament. Since you are her only heir, this won’t take long. After we go over it, you can sign on the dotted line, and I’ll take you over to the house so you can see where you will be living—or selling, however you want to do it. Essie did hope that you would live there. She thought it was the perfect house for a writer. She wrote, at least, a hundred and fifty books there. Keep in mind, though, that all she really wanted was for you to be happy. There are no stipulations on what you do with the estate.”
“She was a writer too? I’ve never read any of her books.”
“She wrote under the pen name of Lawrence Grogan and knew you were a huge fan. Funny thing about Essie, she knew everything about you. She knew you sold your car in Boston so she bought a new car last year. I advised her not to. She hadn’t driven much the last three years. But, she said that you would need a car here in McAlester if you chose to move back here.”
“Wow, how odd. Almost creepy, somehow.”
“She had no real family left. You were all that she lived for. She dedicated the last fifteen of her books to you.”
“This is just too unbelievable. I met Mr. Grogan when I was ten. You are now telling me that he was my grandmother? I saw him with my own eyes. He was a small man, but surely a man.”
“Essie has explained all about it in her letter to you. She cherished that day and was so proud of the fact that you were interested in her books. Now, if you will read the will and sign at the bottom, we can get this all wrapped up before you leave for your book tour.”
Julie read that she was the new owner of a one-hundred-year-old home and all the contents, a new PT Cruiser, all rights to Essie’s books, various stocks and bonds, and a bank account of over one million dollars. Not bad for a poor old lady living on a veteran’s pension.
“I am suddenly a very rich person, and I feel like I cheated to get here. I was never a part of her life. I don’t deserve this.”
“Julie, it was not your choice but the decisions made by the adults in your life who wanted to protect you. Essie agreed with your parents to keep the secret with the understanding that she could help with your education and that you would be told the whole truth when you were grown. The scholarship application papers you filled out every year and sent to Dallas, TX were sent only to you. She always contacted the university you were attending to inquire about the costs of books, housing, student fees, and tuition. She always made the award for twice that amount. That was to insure your education would be complete and stress free. Every year she hoped Karla would arrange a m
eeting so she could get to know you personally.”
“I wish I had met her. I wondered why I never failed to receive the scholarship.” They drove toward 5019 S. Kenosha Avenue in silence. Julie noticed how Chance handled his Jaguar on the hilly streets—and how perfect the Jag was for him; as if they were manufactured on the same assembly line. Both were perfectly symmetrical specimens with warm color tones. When he turned on the radio, it seemed to have his wonderfully baritone voice. Julie hoped she would not become as perfectly matched to her newly acquired PT Cruiser. Finally, Julie broke the silence. “So, Mr. Lightning, how do you like our fair city? Mom tells me that you moved down from Ponca City, but went to school at Harvard.”
“First, please call me Chance; not Mr. Lightning. Remember, I’ve just been working with papers for you that show your age. You are exactly one week older than me, so, Mr. is not allowed,” he said as he flashed a smile at her.
“Okay, then Chance, it is.”
“That’s better. In answer to your question, I like this town. I have a good practice, a wonderfully funny and efficient secretary, and a nice location. Thunder Creek Golf Course is just a few miles away, and there is no rush hour. Who could ask for more?”
“So, how often does Lightning show up at Thunder Creek?” Julie asked, with a slight twinkle in her eye.
“Oh, very funny,” Chance said as he pulled into the drive of the big brown rock house. Julie’s first thought when she saw the huge monster of a house, reaching toward the sky amongst the big oak trees, was to sell it all. It was too big for just one person. She wondered how Essie could have lived there, alone.
“Well, here we are, Miss Julie. I see that Jake has mowed the lawn and trimmed the hedge. Jake is an elderly man who gardens for almost all of the widow women in town. I think he hopes to find one that will fall in love and marry him. He still plows gardens with a team of mules.” Chance reached in his pocket for the keys to the house as they climbed the wide steps to the wrap around porch.
They felt the coolness as soon as they stepped into the small foyer. It had dark woods and rich color on the fabrics of the chairs. There was one on either side of the front door with a large hall tree just to the right of a doorway leading to the living room. Julie thought it felt small and comforting compared to the way it looked from the outside. The floors were a mix of dark wide plank oak and thick wool rugs. All of the furnishings were very old, well kept, and comfortable. Julie felt completely relaxed and at home already, and she had only seen two rooms of this massive house.
“Essie had central heat and air added to the house back in the ’70s. But she seldom ran the air conditioner. She preferred to open the big windows and use the attic fan. But, as she got older, she opted for air conditioning because she hated all of the dust the fan brought in. She did all of the cleaning, herself. I believe there are eighteen rooms in all, and she left not one of them bare. This house is filled with the essence of Essie. She had wonderful taste in antiques and the finances to travel the world in search of just the right piece for whatever room she was furnishing at the time. I hope you like them. I would hate to see her dream world sold to the highest bidder.”
“I have never thought of myself as an antique lover, but this place is too beautiful and peaceful to even think of selling. Although, I don’t see how I can live in an eighteen-room house, alone. I may have to choose a small portion of the house for myself and rent the rest out. I don’t know yet. But, I don’t wish to sell it. You see, Chance, I have lived in a small studio apartment for ten years. I became accustomed to the sofa and bed being the same piece of furniture, and the kitchen being in the same room as the sofa and study area. I’m a simple girl with simple needs. I’d have never bought a place like this.”
“Let’s go look at the rest of the house before you make plans to chop it up into cubicle-sized apartments.” They went out of the living room directly into a large dining room and from there to a small, but well-equipped, kitchen. From the kitchen, Julie could see a sunny little breakfast room. Off of it was a large glassed-in room full of plants and antique Wakefield wicker furniture. At this point, her heart and soul were one with the house. She knew she would stay here and cherish it, just as Essie had. It seemed to hold her in its arms and comfort her. She felt the same way she did, as a child, when her dad held her after she had a bad dream, safe and secure.
“This is the library, where Essie spent a great deal of her time. She loved the fireplace and the overstuffed chairs and ottomans. But most of all, she loved her collection of leather-bound books. She had this room divided in half because she said it felt too big and roomy to relax in. The other half is a library of all of Essie’s self-help books. She called it her problem-solving room. She was a big believer in Dr. Robert Schuler, Og Mandino, Norman Vincent Peele, and anybody else who wrote something that would help the common person. She often turned to these people’s work to help herself get through a rough time. Essie wasn’t one to tell her problems to anyone. She just found ways to cope with them in her problem-solving room of books.”
“I get the impression that you and Essie were closer than just client and attorney. Am I right?” Julie said when she noticed Chance’s voice get a bit strained and thought she detected a slight wateriness to his eyes.
“Essie was my closest friend and confidant. We played cards here every Wednesday night. She cooked supper and insisted I come over and eat with her the first week I was here. She never let me have a moment’s peace over her theory that single people die earlier than married ones. She believed it was because we singles ate alone, and since we ate alone, we ate too fast. Essie was right. I lost forty-five pounds by merely having conversation along with a very good meal. She insisted that I was saving her life by having dinner with her. I think she was saving mine. If Essie was in town, we had our dinner together, here. She was like a grandmother to me. I learned how to accept life as it’s dealt to me from her. In return, I gave her legal advice and company at the dinner table. Once I brought a young woman, whom I thought I was in love with, to meet Essie. The next evening, I asked her what she thought about my friend. She grinned and said, ‘Want the truth or do I lie like hell?’ I told her I wanted the truth. She told me to dump the bimbo and find myself a real woman. I was shocked and hurt but Essie was right. After a few weeks, the bimbo was seen driving my Jag with another man.”
Julie noticed the way all of the bookcases were set into the wall. They were in sections of about six-feet high by three-feet wide with a wall space of about two feet between each case. On the wall spaces were lovely pieces of art. This pattern followed all around the room. There were two bronze busts. One commissioned by a local artist to depict Essie. The other was done in New York and was of Lawrence Grogan. The two looked like twins if you really studied them. But at a glance, one would not even notice the similarities. There were no windows in the library and with the deep-red oriental-type rug over the dark oak floor and dark crown molding and wood trim around the bookcases; Julie thought she would hate to be in here if the lights went out. There were two wing backed chairs and a beautiful hand-carved library table. In one corner was a chaise lounge. Wall sconces lighted the room and a few task lights spread here and there.
“What’s the story on the busts?” Julie asked Chance.
“Her publisher insisted on the one of Lawrence, so as a joke, Essie commissioned the other one. Just to see if anybody in this town would ever figure out the mystery. She pointed out the busts to everybody who came in here but no one ever got the joke.”
“So, Essie had a keen sense of humor.” Julie liked that. And she liked the room, in fact, she liked the house.
From the libraries, they went into a hall that lead to a powder room, a storage and coat closet, a cozy guest room, and the stairway to the upper floors. Julie noticed how immaculate the rooms were and was amazed at how a ninety-year-old lady had managed to do all of the cleaning alone. Her next thought was that she probably spent most of her time upstairs and it, most
likely, would look a bit more lived in. Maybe even messy.
Chance led the way up the winding staircase. Julie noticed how smooth and lovely the banister was and how perfectly carved. The stairs were polished oak with a muted tapestry runner. Oil paintings of children playing in meadows of flowers and babies held and looked at adoringly by mothers lined the wall along the stairway. All done expertly and framed beautifully. Essie’s taste was impeccable.
At the top of the stairs was a long hall. There were various doors on either side. All were closed and had satin ribbons with skeleton keys hanging from each of the doorknobs. The first door on the right was opened to reveal an office. There were two large windows facing the side street and one looking out on to the back garden. This room, too, was furnished with antiques. The juxtaposition of a laptop computer sitting on a desk from the 1800s was striking; as was the armoire housing the printer, scanner, fax machine, and the digital camera. A telephone sat on a separate desk with a notepad and pen and an old Underwood typewriter. There were filing cabinets on one wall, all of oak and quite old.
“So, Essie kept up with the times and used a computer for writing. I had the idea I’d find an old typewriter and a mimeograph machine up here.”
“That old typewriter is what Essie wrote with until computers came along. She was the happiest woman in the world when she got her first computer. She told me that she took a course out at the Vo-tech school. She was far ahead of most of the businesses around here in changing over to the age of high tech. Essie even had net meetings with her publisher and agent. She paid for the tech wing to be added at the Vo-tech but she did it anonymously. She furnished it with all new computers and paid the instructors for the first five years. She thought there should be something more to the school than carpentry and auto mechanics. When she inquired about taking classes in computer and was told there were none, she called friends in Dallas and got the ball rolling. She wanted to learn and felt the young people would too. So, in typical Essie fashion, a new wing was born. She knew how to get things done and was the first student to enroll.”
The Estate of Essie Grogan Page 2