The Estate of Essie Grogan

by Kathy Vest Trimble

  “I like the lady’s spunk and wish I had been able to meet her.”

  “You look like her, you know. There is a picture of her when she was in her early thirties, come on I’ll show you the uncanny likeness. It’s in her bedroom.”

  They walked out of the office, and Julie quietly closed the door behind them. The next door on the left was Essie’s room. A large space with windows all facing the back garden. On the dressing table was the picture. Julie’s breath caught, she did look exactly like Essie. They had the same dark curly hair, the same crooked smile, the same uneven left eyebrow. “Remarkable,” was all Julie could utter. Chance stood and grinned as he watched the shock and surprise on Julie’s face.

  “She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Chance asked.

  “Striking lady, I wouldn’t say beautiful.”

  “That’s because you look just like her and have her modest and humble character. Essie would never admit she was a beautiful young woman, but I think she was.” Chance liked Julie. He thought her looks and mannerisms were so much like Essie’s that he felt he’d known her for more than just an hour or so. He wondered if Julie would invite him to have dinners with her, as Essie had. He hoped she would and knew that Essie could have never disapproved of this lady. A bimbo, she wasn’t! The two of them toured the remaining rooms and bathrooms on the second floor; it was all as tidy as the lower level. Each room furnished and decorated with taste and comfort in mind. Chance was right; this house did not seem so big. There was one room, in particular, that Julie was curious about. It was the smallest room in the house and was just off Essie’s room. There was a chair, side table, lamp, and shelf after shelf of nothing but spiral notebooks, writing tablets, legal pads, file folders, and scraps of paper. Each shelf labeled with a number.

  “What is all of this?” Julie asked.

  “This is where Essie kept all of her diaries and journals. She wrote almost every day of her life since she was a small child. She referred back to them quite often. She said it helped to keep her from getting the big head. They reminded her of where she came from and what it took to get where she was. They gave her strength and humility. Her entire life is documented and stored in this room. I think her letter to you is on the table there. Maybe you should read it later, when you are alone.”

  “This is amazing. Yes, I would prefer to read it later. This has been a very exciting morning. I’m suddenly hungry. I think my breakfast has worn off. Would you like some lunch? I’m sure that Mom is back home by now and cooking. We would love to have you join us. You know the dangers of eating alone.”

  “Maybe we should call her first, just to make sure she cooked enough. I’ve learned never to argue with a woman when it comes to food,” Chance said as he flashed Julie another of his heart-melting smiles.

  “Okay, but I assure you, there’s plenty,” Julie said, as she dialed her mothers’ number from her cell phone. Karla answered on the third ring.

  “Hello, Julie, are you coming back here for lunch or are you and Chance eloping and starting a family? Tell me you’re in love.”

  Julie giggled, “Stop that and put an extra plate on the table for Chance. He’s going to have lunch with us, and then I want to bring you over to see my new home.”

  “Well, lunch is a start, but really, Julie, I’ve met him before and I approve, so just go get married and cut out all the silly stuff. I want a grandbaby,” Karla remarked, just before she hung up the phone.

  Julie looked at Chance and said, “I hope she settles down before we get there. She’s on a roll today. Please, don’t pay any attention to her if she starts in about marriage. We met just a couple of hours ago, and she wants us to elope. By the way, there’s plenty for lunch, and she set a place for you, so let’s go and get this over with. I’m starving.”

  Chance smiled and asked, “So, she’s looking for a son-in-law?”

  “Not really, she’s looking for a bunch of grandkids, and I told her she can’t have any until I’m married.”

  Chance laughed and thought how Julie could not have been more like Essie if she had grown up in the same house. Never an unannounced thought; everything out in the open for the entire world to know. It was always clear as a bell as to what Essie was thinking. He found it refreshing. Oh, there were many very private things that Essie kept to herself, but, in conversation, she was always upfront. He had never believed in the idea of nature over nurture, but now he was beginning to doubt his own theory. Karla Stockton was a witty woman and very outgoing but somehow seemed less confident and open than Julie or Essie. Julie definitely was more like her grandmother than the woman who raised and nurtured her.

  “Do you want to drive your new car to your mom’s now, or go with me? I have to go to the court house just after lunch, but I’ll be happy to bring the two of you back here on my way.”

  “That’s okay, mom can drive us. I think her afternoon is clear. She dropped me off at your office this morning on her way to the hospital. She said she wanted to get her volunteer hours done early so she could have the afternoon to snoop and see what Essie left me. Boy, will she ever be surprised!”

  Julie and Chance got in the Jaguar and drove the four blocks to Karla’s home. Julie found herself wanting to spend as much time as close to Chance as she could without looking like a complete star-struck teenager. She hated it when her mother was right!

  Chance was trying to figure out a way to ask Julie to dinner without seeming too forward and desperate. Maybe, he would use Essie’s theory, as Julie just did. He wondered if she was just being polite or did she genuinely want to get to know him better. He hoped it was the latter. Just as they pulled into the driveway of Karla’s home, Chance got the nerve to ask, “Julie, would you like to have dinner with me tonight at Marco’s? They’ve opened their little private brewery and now serve their famous Choc Beer with meals. It would be fun for you to see how things have changed since you were home last.”

  “Yes, I would, Chance, how nice of you to ask. How should I dress for the occasion? I haven’t been there in years and really don’t know if I should wear a dress, slacks, or jeans.”

  “Wear what you feel like wearing. I will just wear a sport shirt and my Dockers; it’s too hot for a suit.”

  “Okay, when shall I be ready?”

  “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty; your house or this one?”

  “Here, I think. I probably won’t be at my house until tomorrow night. All of my things are here, and Mom will argue too much if I go there after just one night with her.”

  “Karla is on the porch waiting, so I guess we’d better go in and eat.”

  They got out of the car as Karla came to meet them. “Get in this house and eat before everything gets cold,” she said, in her true Okie accent.

  They all went into the kitchen and sat down and started to fill their plates with chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and Karla’s good buttermilk biscuits.

  “How did you have time to cook all of this and do your work at the hospital?” Julie asked.

  “Oh, I got there, and Twila Long was there. She had her days mixed up again, bless her heart, so I told her to just stay for me because I had thangs to do today.”

  “Well, God bless Twila! We got chicken instead of sandwiches. And we are starving,” Julie said.

  “So, what did Essie leave you? You said somethin’ about a house?”

  “Karla, your daughter is the proud owner of a home, car, and some pocket change, so to speak,” Chance said as he took another bite of a biscuit.

  “Pocket change! Heck, I’m rich; Essie left me over a million dollars. I couldn’t spend that much money in my lifetime. The house is very surprising. I want you to come with me after lunch so you can see the inside. I fell in love with it.”

  “Now, where in the heck did Essie get that much money?”

  “She was Lawrence Grogan, that’s where.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either, exactly, but she left me a lette
r explaining all of it. I haven’t read it yet.”

  “Well, I wondered how Essie was able to wear all those fancy clothes and travel all over the place. Never, in a bazillion years would I ever guess that she was one of my favorite writers. I wonder why she didn’t just write in her own name. Now, that’s the best mystery anybody ever pulled off. Just sit right there, I’m gonna run in and get one of the books and take a closer look at the picture on the jacket.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, I have a date with another chicken leg and biscuit,” Chance said as he shot another smile across the table to Julie.

  “Well, I’ll be danged! Just look at this picture. It is Essie, all dressed up in a man’s suit and hat. Never saw anything like it!”

  Julie and Chance both leaned over the table to look at the picture. Julie smiled and said, “Yep, it’s Essie, all right. She looks just like she does in that bust with her hat cocked a little to the right.”

  “Karla, you sure do know how to cook a good meal. I don’t see how Julie managed to stay so far from your kitchen.”

  “Thank you, Chance. It’s very nice of you to say that, but I just cook plain old food. I never could cook anything fancy.”

  “When I first went away to college, I didn’t understand why I had such a hard time waking up in the mornings. I’ve gotten up at six o’clock every morning since as far back as I can remember. Finally, I realized that it was Mom’s biscuits, bacon, eggs, and coffee that lured me out of bed. I did miss the food, but mostly, I missed all the good feelings that went with it. I had a wonderful upbringing, thanks to this lady right here.”

  Chance’s cell phone rang. He answered it and then turned to Julie and Karla, “Ladies, I hate to eat and run but duty calls. MaryCarol says I have to stop by the office before I go to court. I left some of the papers there that need to be filed today. Julie, I’ll pick you up for dinner, and Karla, thanks for the delicious lunch.”

  Karla saw Chance to the door and ran back in to the kitchen where Julie was clearing the table. “So, you two are goin’ to dinner? I told you he’s a looker.” Karla was grinning from ear to ear. “I might just get me a grandbaby yet.”

  “Mom, slow down. I just met him. He does seem nice, though. And yes, he is a looker. Now let’s go. I’m anxious to show you my new home. Hey, do you think you and your Welcome Wagon friends will be dropping by next week to give me some coupons and welcome me to the neighborhood?”

  “Let’s walk over there. I ate too much and need the exercise. We can stay on the sidewalk in the shade of the trees for most of the way.”

  “Okay, Mom. Let’s go. Now where did I put the key? Chance handed it to me after he locked up. Oh, here it is, in my pocket, not my purse. How odd, I never put things in my pockets.”

  “It’s that good lookin’ man that made you do that. You got all giddy, didn’t you? Go on admit it,” Karla said as they walked out the door.

  The two walked down the sidewalk laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Just as they crossed the street to reach Julie’s driveway, Francis Steward stepped on to her front porch.

  “Is that you Karla? Oh my, and little Julie! What are you doing out in this awful heat? Come in and have a cold drink. Did your truck break down?”

  “No, Francis,” Karla answered, “we were just going across to Essie’s old place.”

  “What for? Ain’t nobody there. Essie died. I did see that lawyer friend of hers there earlier, with some gal. Ain’t no tellin’ what kind of people will be livin’ there now. Essie probably left the place to some dang democrat. She just wanted to make people think she had money.”

  “She did have money, Francis,” Karla answered.

  “Blood money don’t count! I mean money she worked for; not money that comes from just being married to someone who happens to get killed in the war. Then I just bet you that she got money when her son got killed. Blood money made it so she just lived in that big old house and squandered money like it grew on trees. Never lifted a finger to work and earn a dime. Bless her heart. But she had all them fancy clothes, pricey furniture, and was always travellin’. Then she bought that PT Cruiser just because I said I would like to have one but couldn’t afford it. That was just Essie’s way, always pokin’ at you. She didn’t have a pot to pee in when she married Lawrence. She was nothing but white trash. Seems to me she forgot her raisin’.”

  “Well, Francis,” said Julie, “Essie left me that old house so I guess I’ll be living there. I hope I won’t be too bad a neighbor. I’ll try to keep the political campaign signs to a minimum. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we really need to be going. You have a nice day.”

  Francis stood on her porch with her mouth hanging open and stared at them as they walked up the drive to the house. She was the neighborhood gossip and the nosiest person in town. She had her own opinion of everyone and, of course, her opinion was the right one, according to her. Karla and Julie giggled as they entered the front door.

  Karla had never been inside Essie’s house. She had been invited but Karla avoided any kind of social contact with Essie. She was always anticipating Essie’s request to introduce her to Julie. Now, she felt sad that she had deprived Julie and herself of the friendship that Essie offered.

  “Oh, what a lovely place! It looks like somethin’ out of a movie set. Look at all these antiques! And it looks surprisingly small.”

  “Come here and look at the sun porch. I need to see if the plants need water. There’s no telling when they were taken care of last.”

  “This is a lovely house! The dirt in the plants is still wet. I’ll bet that Peg Miller watered them. I heard that she was staying with Essie the last few weeks when she was so bad that she needed a nurse. I think Peg used to take care of Essie’s dog when she was out of town. That woman has a heart of gold. I don’t know how she manages to be in so many places and do so much for everybody. She came and stayed with me for a week when you had to go back to school after Jim died. I remember her comin’ over here to water Essie’s plants and walk the dog. I think Essie was visiting her sister in Dallas, then. She never took any pay from me and probably not from Essie, either.”

  “Chance mentioned that he had someone clean out the refrigerator and did some light housekeeping before I arrived but nothing about a dog.”

  “Well, there is a dog somewhere. His name is Jolly, and he’s a great big old Bassett hound. I’ve heard he’s the most worthless creature on the face of the earth. He does nothing but lie around and sleep. I’d say either Peg has him for now or Essie gave him away.”

  “Just poke and nosey all you want, Mom, I’m going upstairs to read Essie’s letter. Come up when you get finished looking down here.”

  Julie made her way up the stairs and to the small room containing the journals. She sat down in the chair and opened the thick envelope. The letter was hand written and dated April 12, 2004. It read:

  My dear Julie,

  I’m sorry, but I fear we shall never get to meet, formally. I had looked forward to sitting with you and telling you all about my crazy, mixed-up life, but it just was not meant to be. I’m sure that Karla meant well by keeping us apart, so please, don’t be upset. We both loved you very much. I left it to her, since she is the one who played the mother part in your life.

  I will begin by explaining why I wrote under the name of Lawrence, instead of Essie. There were few women writers getting any notice back in the ’30s and ’40s. I submitted my manuscripts to every known publisher. All came back with rejection slips. Most were not even opened. I put them away for quite a few years. Thinking I was a failure at doing what I loved the most. One day, I found myself a widow with a baby to raise. I decided I had to give it one more try. So, I dusted off a manuscript or two and sent them out under the pen name of Lawrence Grogan. I thought if there was a man’s name on them, they might, at least, get read. What better name to use than the one of my beloved late husband. I was right! But, I didn’t realize what a double life I would lead from then on. I was, even
up into the 1990s, afraid to reveal myself as a woman. My fear was of losing my publisher and all of my loyal fans. For many, many, years I had to leave this home at 3:00 a.m. dressed in drag, as they say, and drive to Dallas for planes and trains all over the place to sell my books. This wasn’t easy to do with Francis Steward as my closest neighbor. After a while, I could afford to keep a small apartment in Dallas, where I was Lawrence Grogan to everyone. That gave me a geological place for the publishers to send correspondence and a biography away from my hometown. I tried not to stay there for very many days at a time. It did get tiring dressing and looking like a man. The fans at the door were almost constant during a best-seller period. I had a funny encounter there. Once when a reporter peeked in my window and saw me sitting at my desk in a floral robe. The next morning, I saw the picture right on the front page of the Dallas Morning News. The caption said something to the effect of my being a bit limp-wristed. That’s when I learned to wear men’s pajamas and robes. I also became the desire of a few fellows who liked the limp-wristed type.

  I wanted my son, Larry, to have a normal childhood so we kept our home here in McAlester, and I sent him to school along with many other kids who had lost their fathers in the war. I always had young Sarah Giles stay with him when I had to visit my “sick and ailing sister” in Dallas. That’s the term I used for going on book tours. I phoned home every night to check on him. I just couldn’t bear for him to see me dressed up like a man. When he was twelve years old, I told him all about my career and made him promise not to tell anyone. He never did betray me. The summer before he entered the ninth grade, I took him along on a trip to Europe. I was shocked to read in one of the British papers that “Lawrence Grogan would never flaunt his young lover in public back in the States.” I was so mad that I almost told on myself! Larry thought it was quite funny and believed I should just ignore it. He insisted that I just keep quiet and not comment. After long discussion and argument, he convinced me that the rumor would die if I just let it. I finally agreed to give it a try for a few days. The next day we were getting the grand tour of Scotland Yard, when Larry noticed a man with a camera following us. He spun me around to face the camera and gave me a huge hug. I almost died when the flash bulb popped. I took him directly back to the hotel and scolded him for adding fuel to the fire of this rumor of my being not only a homosexual but one that likes very young men. When the evening paper was delivered, it showed a front-page photo of me and Larry, cheek-to cheek. The caption read: “Lawrence Grogan and Son, Larry, enjoy a day at Scotland Yard.” There was no denying that Larry was a carbon copy of me. I had not realized it until I saw that picture. That night Larry confessed to me that a reporter had approached him in the men’s room and questioned him about our little affair. Larry had told him that I was not a homosexual but a widower who wanted to take his son on a trip. He then told the reporter that he could snap a picture of the two of us if he would dispel the rumor that his father was a homosexual. The reporter kept up his end of the agreement.