et. Have you seen him?"
"When I returned from the hospital. I saw his automobile was here. but I haven't spoken with him. It looks like they're having some sort of a dinner party, too. There are about a half dozen cars." she said. "How are you doing?"
"I'll be all right," I said "I think I had better stay here and tend to my problems and decisions."
"Absolutely, Willow, And please, return to college. Don't put your life on hold because of me. I couldn't stand la-lowing I was responsible for anything like that," she pleaded.
"I'll see. Don't worry."
"I'll put it all in a hole and cover it," she told me, repeating the advice my father had given her. I smiled, and we said goodbye.
I wandered through my house, looking into rooms and remembering so much. seeing Amou, my father, even my adoptive mother, as they had all looked to me when I was very young and not yet aware of all the dark and troubling things waiting for me outside these doors. I ended up sitting in my father's office. The books and papers had been shoveled around, presumably in Aunt Agnes's attempt to get things looking organized after whatever delusions Miles had suffered in here.
Poor Miles, I thought,
I sat thinking of him until the miniature grandfather clock bonged midnight. I realized that Thatcher had still not called. I fought back thinking about it and, finally exhausted, went up to bed and fell asleep almost immediately, only to be awakened in the morning by the sound of vacuum cleaners and voices below and outside. I looked out and caught sight of Aunt Agnes throwing orders at people as if she were a slave owner overseeing a plantation. She had window washers doing every pane in the house, the landscape people cutting and trimming, even people painting and touching up railings and shutters.
I put on my robe and went down to get some breakfast. While I sipped my coffee in the breakfast nook, she came marching in, screaming at the army of maids, demanding they get under the furniture and polish every piece until they could see their faces reflected in it.
"Don't you think you're overdoing it a bit, Aunt Agnes?" I asked dryly,
"Overdoing it? I had nightmares last night imagining what my father would have felt like to come home to find this place in the condition it was in. This is prime property and must not be undersold.
"I didn't get a chance to tell you last night because we were so involved in the family scandal, but the real estate agents called again and want to bring a prospective buyer here tomorrow. They can't hold the people off any longer, or they will lose the sale."
"Why are you so worried about it. Aunt Agnes? It's mine to give away," I said bluntly,
"Why? Do you think I could sleep nights knowing my father's property was stolen by some smart buyer who took advantage of what's been happening here? It's still the De Beers family estate, isn't it? How you waste the money afterward is not the point. It's a matter of family pride. It doesn't surprise me that you would find such a thing curious. These are old-fashioned ethics. You young people today don't put any value on things that are lasting and true and filled with heritage. Everything is disposable to you."
"That's not true." I said. "At least, it's not true for me. I can't speak for other young people," I added, my meaning sharply clear.
She grunted. "Yes, well, years from now, you'll send me a thank-you note. I'm sure," she concluded, satisfied with herself. She went off to continue supervising, and I went upstairs to prepare myself for Miles's funeral,
Mr. Bassinger was right on time. The first thing he asked was how things had gone between my aunt and me. I described the conversation, especially her reactions. There was a constant small smile on his lips.
"Well. I can't say she isn't doing the right thing sprucing up the place. Willow. This is a very desirable property. I can't see her getting anything from it now, but should something dreadful happen to you. God forbid. I can easily envision her and her clan scratching and clawing their way into it all. It wouldn't be the first family I've seen think about such things and do all they could to ensure their legal rights to inheritances. Greed changes the faces of many relatives when it comes to that."
"I will be healthy and live a long life just to prevent it," I promised him, and he laughed.
"I hope so."
We were the only ones at the funeral parlor's chapel. The minister recited appropriate psalms and spoke about the burdens we all carry through this short life which was often more of a test than a smooth ride. He knew from the things Mr. Bassinger had told him that Miles was devoted to my father, and he praised him for that loyalty and love. I felt as though I were crying for my father as well as myself when the tears began to streak down my cheeks.
We followed the hearse to the cemetery where my father had purchased a plot just for Miles, not far from his own. Afterward, I stopped by his grave to say a prayer and tell him what I had done and how grateful I was that he had left his diary for me so I could have a real mother after all.
It all left me so weak and tired, When I returned home. I ignored the workers and went up to my room to lie down. I slept well into the afternoon. I had little appetite. but I did go down and make myself some toast and tea. By dinnertime, all the workers were gone, and Aunt Agnes appeared, dressed, her bags left at the front door.
"I've done all I can here.," she said. "I have to go home. I've asked the real estate agents to inform me of the offers so I can have my lawyers give you the best advice."
"I have my own advisor and lawyer, Aunt Ames. Don't trouble yourself." I said.
"I don't consider it trouble to look after my family's property," she threw back at me. "What are your plans now?"
"I'm not sure." I said.
Thatcher had still not called, and I was considering returning to college.
"Should the property sell quickly. I will have to see about the furnishings, unless, of course, they are bought along with the house. I want my father's things kept somewhere safe until I have a home of my own."