The Cougar and the Cowboy

“All of her possessions here in Paris, including the property she owned, have been sold and the profits donated to her favorite charity, as per her instructions. I have the paperwork to verify that. And now, one last thing…” He opened a drawer, withdrew a slim mauve-colored envelope and placed it on the desk. “This is a letter for you from Barbara but you are not to read it until you’re back home in Missouri. Of course, I have no control over that once you leave this office but that’s what she wanted.”

Camille thanked him, placed the envelope into her bag, picked up the walnut box and the box containing the snow globe and walked out the door.

‘That was the most bizarre experience I’ve had in my entire life, I believe. Don’t open the envelope until I’m home? Still controlling things, aren’t you, Barbara? Even after death.’

***

She returned to her hotel, gathered her few bags and left for the airport. She’d booked a flight for St. Louis in the afternoon, knowing the meeting would most likely be brief. It was, but not for the reason she expected.

On the long trip home, she tried to imagine what the envelope contained. Probably more admonitions about how to live her life and how disappointed Barbara was with the life Camille already lived. She would honor Barbara’s wishes and wait until she was sitting on her own couch in her own living room with a glass of her own wine in her hand. Perhaps a bottle, instead.

She took a cab home from the airport and was perplexed to see another cab at the curb.

She had to laugh when Will got out and rolled his bags up the front sidewalk. She startled him when she called out, “Isn’t this a coincidence? Both prodigals return at exactly the same time.”

CHAPTER 38

AFTER UNPACKING AND getting comfortable in her pajamas, Camille poured the glass of wine and curled up on the couch with her legs tucked under her. She was extremely tired and debating about reading the letter tonight or waiting until morning when she might be more able to function.

Will came into the room and sat down next to her.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Beyond exhaustion, Will,” she admitted, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about the last few months?”

“Maybe tomorrow. It would require too much energy and emotion right now. How about you?”

“I’m not sure I can even put my feelings into words. Something happened while I was gone. I believe I’m a different person in several areas of my life but I’m still assessing the situation.”

She chuckled at that. “Yeah, me too. I forgot to tell you…Barbara died.”

He pushed himself to a sitting position on the edge of the couch so he was looking into her face. “You forgot to tell me?”

“It’s been something I had to come to terms with and I don’t think that will fully happen until I read her last instructions to me.” She held up the letter she had laying on her lap.

Will sat back and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Camille. I wish I could say I liked her, but that would be a lie. However, I do love you and I don’t want you to hurt.”

She lifted the flap on the envelope and withdrew several folded sheets of paper.

“Will you stay with me while I read this?” she asked.

“Of course…and when you get to the part about how you made a huge mistake when you married me…I’ll plug my ears.”

My dearest Camille,

I know you already think this letter is a fake if I started it with calling you ‘my dearest’ but I assure you it is real. This dying business does strange things to a person, including making me look back at my life with a totally different perspective. It’s a pity we can’t see things as clearly through healthy eyes as we can when they are clouded with the knowledge of our impending death. That’s enough about my demise; I have many things to tell you.

You came into my life at a very inconvenient time for me. I never, in a million years, believed I could conceive…doctors told me it was impossible. To say I was not prepared to be a mother would be expressing it mildly. It didn’t help to have forty-eight hours of labor. You wanted to do things your way from the very beginning, including exiting the birth canal. Your way, your timing. From birth, you fought me on everything: what to eat, what to wear, which toys to play with…and you weren’t a rebellious teen at the time…you were a toddler.

Our relationship was always the ‘oil and water’ type. You may have believed my sending you to boarding schools, summer camp and every other type of learning experience was for your education, when in reality, it was for our preservation. I always believed the best way to be your mother was to be an absent one.

My mother, your grandmother, had amassed a small fortune publishing ‘Mavis’ Mag.’ I reaped the benefits but hated the magazine. I hated it for two reasons: my mother was totally engrossed in the publication and had no time for me… and as I became older, it represented the world I was expected to embrace: late marriage, becoming a grandmother, employment, retiring spouses, how to dress as a middle-aged woman…all concepts I abhorred.

When you met William and immediately wanted to marry him, I fought you. I had nothing against him personally; I simply didn’t think it was a good idea for you to get married and because I expressed those thoughts, you did the opposite and married him. I’m certain my meddling and interfering was responsible for your divorce but I wasn’t sorry it happened.

When I refused ownership of the magazine and your grandmother offered you the opportunity, I was sure you didn’t possess the experience or toughness to handle it. I was wrong. I saw you were doing an outstanding job. Mavis’ Mag was gaining readership and sales despite my best efforts to derail your success.