Etta turned to look at her sister. “They did? How do you know that?”
“I had a real nice conversation with Donny Joe after the service yesterday afternoon. And Grammy was always going on about how much help he was to her around the house.”
Etta’s foot started tapping again. Donny Joe Ledbetter was her grandmother’s next door neighbor. She had vivid memories of him as a teenager from the summers she and Belle had spent at her grandmother’s house. Flirtatious, smooth-talking, too cute for his own good, and always stirring up some kind of trouble.
That was Donny Joe, then and now. From what she’d heard he ran some kind of swimming pool business these days. Now that she thought about it, she did remember her grandmother mentioning him a lot during their frequent phone calls of late, but she realized with a sharp pang of regret, she’d been too busy talking about her own problems and hadn’t paid much attention to the details.
Etta’s first instinct was to suspect he’d taken advantage of her grandmother’s trusting nature. But on the other hand, so what if he’d schmoozed his way into the old lady’s affection and she’d left him some small token of her appreciation in her last will and testament?
Fine and dandy. What did she care?
But he could at least have the decency to show up on time so they could get this whole ordeal settled. Her business in Everson, Texas was almost finished, and now that Grammy Hazel was gone, she couldn’t think of a good reason to stay any longer than necessary. Despite her assurances to Diego that he’d be fine without her, she couldn’t help worry.
Finally, there was a knock on the office doorframe, and Donny Joe stuck his head around the corner. “Sorry I’m late, Corbin.”
Mr. Starling stood up and waved him into the room. “Come on in, Donny Joe. We’re ready to get started.”
Donny doffed his cowboy hat and hung it on the coat rack by the door. “I had an emergency at the Senior Center. The pool wasn’t heating properly, and if Splashing with the Oldies doesn’t go on as scheduled there’s hell to pay. But I apologize.”
“Hey, Donny Joe,” Belle looked up from her phone and gifted him with one of her dazzling smiles.
“Belle.” He returned her smile with a dazzling one of his own, and then with the slightest nod in her direction acknowledged Etta’s presence as well. “Morning, Etta.”
He pulled a wooden chair up next to her, and sat with legs splayed wide, taking up more than his share of space in the room. Donny Joe was all lanky swagger, and Etta found herself bristling for no particular reason. Turning slightly in her chair, she angled her body so he was out of her line of sight, but a faint whiff of his cologne still wafted her way.
Mr. Starling cleared his throat and began addressing them somberly, so she focused on his words. “This is a sad occasion for us all. Hazel was a great friend to me and my family. We will miss her dearly, and you girls have my deepest condolences.” He put both hands on his desk and sighed. “This is the will drawn up by your grandmother three and a half years ago on her sixty-fifth birthday.”
He opened the file on his desk and began reading,
I, Hazel Faye Green, being of sound mind and body do hereby bequeath the following:
• My string of pearls and matching earrings, the family recipe box, and my complete set of Nancy Drew Mysteries I leave to my great granddaughter, Daphne Jonquil Green.
• My enamel turtle pin, my Joni Mitchell albums, and my Volkswagen bus I leave to my cousin, Beulah Cross.
• My house, its contents and the surrounding five acres I leave to my granddaughters Etta Place Green and Belle Starr Green. I trust they will do all they can to keep the house since it has been in our family for over one hundred years.
Signed,
Hazel Faye Green
Etta slumped back in her chair, fighting new tears. The provisions in the will were basically what she’d expected, but hearing the words read out loud made the pain of Grammy’s death rise up and threaten to choke her all over again.
Grammy’s house. Growing up, it had always been a safe haven, a place to escape the never-ending circus of her parents’ chaotic marriage. And with Grammy Hazel’s help, it was the place she learned to cook. She loved the nooks and crannies, the tall ceilings, the wooden floors. It wrapped around her, comforting her like one of Grammy’s crocheted afghans. Built by her great-great grandfather and passed down to each new generation, the house still stood tall and strong, despite the human frailties of those who’d occupied it through the years. She was momentarily stirred by the connection with those who’d come before her. With the death of their father four years ago, the house now belonged to her and Belle.