Bequeathed

Chapter Twenty-One: After the Will Part II

Claire arranges to pick up Aunt Bev’s…Claire’s house keys from Mr. Simms at his office. When she arrives, Mr. Simms’ secretary escorts Claire to the conference room. Mr. Simms is seated at the head of the table. In front of him are the two cat carriers. Mr. Simms points to a seat; Claire doesn’t take it.

“I won’t be long,” says Claire. “I’m here for the keys.”

Mr. Simms gets up, deposits into Claire’s open palm. “I wanted to see to it that you get settled.”

“I’m sure nothing much has changed since I was last there.” Claire points, moving her index finger backward and forward, indicating both cat carriers. “I’ll take those as well.”

Mr. Simms smiles, wide. “You’ll be taking them. That’s great!” His smile is threatening to split his face in half.

“Uhm. No. I would like an address for a few of the shelters that were to receive Aunt Bev’s estate in the event of my non-compliance to the archaic terms of the will.”

Mr. Simms frowns; his face falls. “Nadine will give you the information on your way out.”

Claire slides her brown leather clutch underneath her arm, squeezing the bag against her side. She stretches over the table, still clutching her bag to her side. It limits her reach. Mr. Simms picks up the carriers and hands them to Claire.

“Have a great day, Ms. White.” There is an edge to his voice. Why is he so insistent on making her a pet owner.

“I’ll write the shelter a fat check,” Claire says as she saunters from the room. “I’ll see to it that these little ones are well taken care of.” Claire peeks into the carriers. She’d forgotten how cute the cats were. She has no time for pets. She’s trying to escape death.

All the shelters on Aunt Bev’s list are no-kill shelters. Claire finds the closest one and parks her jag in front. This time, just as the time before, the jag was her first major luxury purchase once the money was cleared. She sold her old car to a dealership. Claire handed the car over in exchange for three thousand dollars. She didn’t try to haggle. It’s not like she needed the money. She simply wanted to get rid of it. She’s sure the used car salesman thought he had pulled a fast one. Claire wasn’t concerned about that. She wanted to be rid of it. And she was rid of it.

As Claire reaches for the cats on the backseat, she can’t help but consider how different her life would’ve been if Aunt Bev had only been fair. Claire has gone from choosing which debt to clear to allowing a sweaty car dealer to swindle her. Having money has grown from being a desire to being her reality. Claire didn’t even need to use the money she made selling the car to pay off any debt. She used it to buy a purse. All her debt had already been cleared.

Claire pushes the door close with her hip and skips over a c***k in the sidewalk. Inside the store, she places the carriers on the counter.

“I’m dropping off,” Claire says. She digs into her clutch for her checkbook. “Do you have a pen?” The curly-haired boy behind the counter is wearing a blue t-shirt with a gang of animals on the front. Dogs, cats, and an iguana.

He hands Claire a pen. “Are you sure? We do our best to take all animals but we like to ensure that it’s the final decision.” The boy turns the cats toward him. “Are you the owner?”

“Yes. No. My great aunt was.” Claire fills in the check.

“So, the decision is final. You won’t want them back?”

“What?” Claire looks up from the check. “Final? I thought you didn’t put animals down.”

“We don’t. I want to ensure that they’re free for adoption.”

“Oh. They’re open.” Claire rips out the check. “This is a thousand dollars to ensure they find a suitable home.”

The boy raises his hands and steps back. “That’s not how this works. You can’t sell them to us or pay for them to be placed.”

Claire sighs. “Let me rephrase. I would like to donate to this…” She waves the check about her head. “...organization. Here is my first donation. I will make a similar payment each month to help with your…expenses.” Claire slides the check over. The boy doesn’t step toward it. Claire slips it under one of the carriers and leaves the shelter. She hops into her vehicle and drives off before the meter maid - who is making her way down the block - reads her unpaid meter.

Claire arrives home - her old apartment, not the mansion. She’s reluctant to move into Aunt Bev’s vacuous home until she knows William’s next move. She’s not eager to hear her footfalls bouncing off the walls and be reminded that she is alone and trying to cheat death. Claire climbs over boxes, searching for the one that reads, Kitchen. She uses her key to slice the tape and pull the box top apart. She takes out a bowl and goes to the kitchen. Claire empties the milk carton into her blue bowl, retrieves the cereal box from the cupboard, and shakes a few flakes into the bowl. She’ll need to make a trip to the grocery store if she intends to hideaway here.

Claire steps over boxes and heads to her sofa. She peels the plastic covering off and slumps down. She checks her phone. No message or calls from Andrew. She’s tired of waiting. She’s waited today; she’s waited yesterday and the day before. She will try to uncover some things on her own. Starting with where William works. During the time they were married....their first marriage, she never got a straight answer when she asked him about work.