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“We can swing by your place on our way home and grab his stuff, okay?”
She huffed. “You can’t just walk into my house whenever you want, Mike.”
Daniel sidled away, disappearing between a couple aisles, undoubtedly sensing a fight coming on. “I don’t want to go to your house, Shell,” I told her in as calm a voice as I could muster. “But Daniel needs his homework so he’s prepared on Monday. And I can grab his clothes and wash them so you don’t have to.” It was couched in the form of a generous offer, but the truth was that Shelly just never bothered to wash Daniel’s clothes, and half the time I got him back as some disheveled version of the stinky kid at school.
Shelly’s priorities weren’t quite aligned with my own, as it turned out.
“You don’t have to,” she said, dropping my gaze. “The maid should be coming tomorrow.”
Shelly did not have a maid. She had very little in the way of resources, and she had lost her last two jobs, and was now working at The Shack as a waitress. I could do a little laundry if it made my son’s life better. And hers.
We were not a good couple in the long run. But that didn’t mean I wanted to see her suffering. It was just hard not to resent her a little when I felt like my son wasn’t being taken care of properly. But Daniel loved his mom, and none of her sins were egregious—just a little lazy. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
“Okay, well, we’ll just grab his stuff then.”
“I’m late for work,” she said, looking relieved. “Bye Dan!” she called to the store at large.
“Bye Mom,” came Dan’s voice from the back of the store.
I was just about to head back and see how he was doing when the store phone rang.
“Tucker Feed and Farm,” I answered automatically. I’d been delivering that greeting since I was twelve.
“Ah, yes, hello. I’m looking for Michael Tucker?”
“Well then, it’s your lucky day. Speaking.”
“Sir, my name is Augustus Anders. I’m an attorney here in Singletree. I represent Filene Easter.”
Oh shit. What was this? Was the old lady suing me for helping her out of the street? My stomach soured. This had the Tanner stink on it.
“Go on,” I said, managing to sound civil.
“Would you possibly be able to come to my office this afternoon, sir? Maybe around five?”
“Can you tell me what this is about?”
“Mrs. Easter passed away two days ago,” he said, and my mind stopped spinning, frozen suddenly with an image of the sweet old face I’d looked into just a few days before. “And she set up a trust before she died. You are one of the co-trustees.”
“Um.” That made no sense at all. My mind was spinning. A trust? What?
“By law, it will be thirty days before the will can be read in full, but the trust is already established and passes directly to the trustees upon the death of the administrator.”
“Um.” I was a fount of intelligent questions. And my heart had begun to ache a little—I hadn’t known Mrs. Easter well, but I’d seen her just a few days ago, and she’d been spry and bright in her combat boots and poufy white hair. I sighed, feeling suddenly sad and exhausted. “Okay.”
“So you’ll come?”
I’d already forgotten his original question. “Come?”
“To my office. Today? At five?”
“Oh. Sure, okay. Can you text me the address?” I gave him my cell phone number and hung up, staring out the window for a long moment after. What in the world would Filene Easter have put into a trust for me? It made no sense at all.
Tuckers Smell
Addison
“Icannot bake another cookie,” I moaned, wiping my hands on my jeans and sinking into the single hard chair Mom kept in the kitchen at The Muffin Tin. “I don’t know how you do this all day every day.”
