was a professional,” said Mel. “They don’t make them like Carl anymore.”
“They sure as hell don’t,” said Nellie.
Jane was prepared to give her mother a withering look, but she saw that her mother was dead serious—as respectful as she had ever seen her.
“He was a good saloon man, that’s for sure,” said Don.
Nods all around.
“Want to know what’s in his will?” asked Mel.
Silence. The whoosh stopped, followed by a clunk as the fan in the big cooler turned off. Two more drops splashed into the rinse tank.
“Hell no,” said Don. “First of all, Carl’s not dead. Second of all, you got no business going through Carl’s things or taking that envelope out of his apartment. Being his landlord doesn’t give you the right to—”
“Hold on, Don,” said Wally. “We didn’t snoop. Carl gave us this and said if anything happened, we were supposed to bring it to you right away. We figured we’d get to give it to you at the hospital, but the doc said you were gone and if it had anything about last wishes, we should find you right away so you could open it. It’s addressed to you and Nellie.”
Nellie had gone into the kitchen and brought out a fresh cherry pie. Jane was amazed. Where did she keep them? Was there a magic pie closet back there? Nellie slid plates in front of Wally and Mel, gave them forks and napkins, and lifted out enormous slices of pie. “Makes the coffee taste better,” she said. Then she almost smiled, gave Mel a pat on the shoulder. “You did the right thing bringing that here if that’s what Carl wanted. Don and I are just all done in, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry, Pepper,” said Don, looking at Mel, who nodded.
Jane watched her dad take the envelope and open it carefully, affording it the respect of an official document of some kind. There was, indeed, a copy of a will in the sheaf of papers, but there were other signed papers as well.
Don motioned for Jane to look at the pages with him and she stepped to his right so she could see the contents of the envelope. The first paper was a living will, specifying that no heroic measures be taken. After the living will, the pages were all stamped COPY and there was a note saying the originals were all on file in the lawyer’s office. The second page was a letter that must have been dictated by Carl to the lawyer since it was signed and witnessed at Beasley’s office. In short, Carl named Don the executor of his estate. He specified that everything was to be left to Don and Nellie. He left bank account numbers and specific information and included a safety deposit box key. And in an explanatory postscriptlike note, in Carl’s boxy printlike handwriting, he mentioned Jane and Michael. Don pointed it out and Jane read aloud:
Although I am leaving everything to Don and Nellie, the two people in the world most like family to me, who have always treated me honestly and fairly and who have always helped me when I was down, I would also like their children, Jane and Michael, to share in my worldly goods. Therefore, I authorize Jane Wheel to inventory all of my property and after she and Don and Nellie and Michael take anything they want, they can sell the rest or give it away, whatever they think is best. If any money is raised from the sale, it should go to Jane’s son and Michael’s boy and girl. I like to think they are like my own children and grandchildren and I would like them to have something from me. If Jane thinks it’s okay, her son Nick can have my car if he’s now old enough to drive. And now that I must be dead, I’d just like to say, Nellie, you were the only sensible woman I ever knew and Don, you were the most honest man I ever knew, so you deserved to have Nellie. I was proud you were my boss and my friends.
“I’ll be goddamned,” said Don softly. “This was dated two months ago. Carl knew he was dying.”
Nellie had been standing, listening with her arms folded. She scratched her cheek,
“They sure as hell don’t,” said Nellie.
Jane was prepared to give her mother a withering look, but she saw that her mother was dead serious—as respectful as she had ever seen her.
“He was a good saloon man, that’s for sure,” said Don.
Nods all around.
“Want to know what’s in his will?” asked Mel.
Silence. The whoosh stopped, followed by a clunk as the fan in the big cooler turned off. Two more drops splashed into the rinse tank.
“Hell no,” said Don. “First of all, Carl’s not dead. Second of all, you got no business going through Carl’s things or taking that envelope out of his apartment. Being his landlord doesn’t give you the right to—”
“Hold on, Don,” said Wally. “We didn’t snoop. Carl gave us this and said if anything happened, we were supposed to bring it to you right away. We figured we’d get to give it to you at the hospital, but the doc said you were gone and if it had anything about last wishes, we should find you right away so you could open it. It’s addressed to you and Nellie.”
Nellie had gone into the kitchen and brought out a fresh cherry pie. Jane was amazed. Where did she keep them? Was there a magic pie closet back there? Nellie slid plates in front of Wally and Mel, gave them forks and napkins, and lifted out enormous slices of pie. “Makes the coffee taste better,” she said. Then she almost smiled, gave Mel a pat on the shoulder. “You did the right thing bringing that here if that’s what Carl wanted. Don and I are just all done in, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry, Pepper,” said Don, looking at Mel, who nodded.
Jane watched her dad take the envelope and open it carefully, affording it the respect of an official document of some kind. There was, indeed, a copy of a will in the sheaf of papers, but there were other signed papers as well.
Don motioned for Jane to look at the pages with him and she stepped to his right so she could see the contents of the envelope. The first paper was a living will, specifying that no heroic measures be taken. After the living will, the pages were all stamped COPY and there was a note saying the originals were all on file in the lawyer’s office. The second page was a letter that must have been dictated by Carl to the lawyer since it was signed and witnessed at Beasley’s office. In short, Carl named Don the executor of his estate. He specified that everything was to be left to Don and Nellie. He left bank account numbers and specific information and included a safety deposit box key. And in an explanatory postscriptlike note, in Carl’s boxy printlike handwriting, he mentioned Jane and Michael. Don pointed it out and Jane read aloud:
Although I am leaving everything to Don and Nellie, the two people in the world most like family to me, who have always treated me honestly and fairly and who have always helped me when I was down, I would also like their children, Jane and Michael, to share in my worldly goods. Therefore, I authorize Jane Wheel to inventory all of my property and after she and Don and Nellie and Michael take anything they want, they can sell the rest or give it away, whatever they think is best. If any money is raised from the sale, it should go to Jane’s son and Michael’s boy and girl. I like to think they are like my own children and grandchildren and I would like them to have something from me. If Jane thinks it’s okay, her son Nick can have my car if he’s now old enough to drive. And now that I must be dead, I’d just like to say, Nellie, you were the only sensible woman I ever knew and Don, you were the most honest man I ever knew, so you deserved to have Nellie. I was proud you were my boss and my friends.
“I’ll be goddamned,” said Don softly. “This was dated two months ago. Carl knew he was dying.”
Nellie had been standing, listening with her arms folded. She scratched her cheek,
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