“The first year is dreadful. The second is numbness.” Big Mim smiled as Benita’s oldest daughter, home from Portland, Oregon, placed a tea tray on the sleek, lacquered coffee table.
“Thank you, dear.”
“Georgina, if you want to ride, let me know. Sometimes a nice trail ride helps.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Sanburne. I’d love to, but there’s so much to do, and I have to return to Oregon Sunday.”
Georgina left them.
“She’s turned into a beautiful young woman,” Big Mim noted.
“Loves her job. I keep hoping she’ll come home, but she says the only way she can come home is if she gets a job in Richmond or Washington. Those markets are so competitive, but I think she’ll land in a big market eventually.”
“Did you think she’d wind up in television?”
“Well, I knew she always was fascinated by the weather, but both Will and I were surprised when she chose meteorology as her career and then double-majored in broadcasting—journalism, really.”
“She is in a perfect spot, with all those storms sweeping in off the Pacific.”
“That’s what she says.” Benita poured them both tea. “In a way, the impact didn’t fully hit me until the kids came home. They’ve been wonderful,” she paused, “although my son says he’s going to kill Bechtal if he can figure out how to get into the jail.”
“Normal.”
Benita nodded. “Would it solve anything? One more death?”
“I know I’m supposed to say no, but the years have taught me that killing the right person at the right time can make all the difference. Think what would have happened in the world if the plot against Hitler had succeeded. There would have been a struggle between those dwindling few who wanted to pursue the war and the rest, who knew Germany was lost. We would have had an earlier peace. So many lives would have been saved.” She held her cup with all the grace of one who had manners drilled into her upon leaving the womb. “The older I get, Benita, the less convinced I am that turning the other cheek is the answer. You can imagine how Miranda and I go ‘round on this.”
“She’s visited regularly, too.” Benita smiled slightly. “Reads germane passages from the Bible, but she’s not as bad as she used to be. We read the Twenty-third Psalm together and it was comforting.”
“Beautiful voice, Miranda has, speaking or singing.”
“She brought me some cuttings from the garden, and, would you believe it, Alicia Palmer, down on her knees, put them in. I can tell my grandchildren, if ever they get born, that a movie star planted my pachysandra and variegated ivy. Miranda brought some American Beauty roses, too.”
Big Mim, ever competitive on the garden scene, simply said, “Miranda displays a great gift.”
“Her only vanity, I think.” Benita’s eyes filled with tears as she looked out the huge windows. “Will’s maple. It was four feet high when he planted it. Look at it now.”
Big Mim guessed the maple to be twenty-five feet high. “Just blushing orange at the top.”
“Should be a spectacular fall.”
“You never know. The conditions can be perfect and a big windstorm comes up. Poof.” She waved her hand, the spectacular diamond on her ring throwing tiny rainbows of light. “Is there anything I can do to help with the funeral?”
“No. Because of the publicity, we decided to cremate him and to have only family here. I think we’ll commission a celebration of his life on the first anniversary of his death.” Benita looked back at the older, quite attractive woman. “I can’t bear the people, the questions. A year from now, only those of us who loved him will honor him.”
“Wise.”
Benita’s rich-brown hair evidenced a few red highlights. Apart from being ten pounds heavier than when in college, she looked marvelous for a woman in middle age. The suffering told on her face, but that was to be expected. And the ten pounds added to the womanliness of her figure.
“Mim, I don’t know how I can live,” she said without fanfare, a flat statement.
“You will. You must.” A gust of fierceness invaded the older woman’s voice.
“For the children, I know, but inside,” she touched her heart, “I feel dead.”
“That’s natural, Benita. It passes, but slowly. You can’t give up or give in.”
Benita’s lustrous eyes registered the challenge. “I know.”
“It’s not what the world throws at us, it’s how we handle it. Even inflicted pain, something as terrible as this, can be borne because one must. The duty of life is to live and to give.”
“We do let others control our emotions. If I collapse, then this hideous person wins. I see that.” She stopped, placed her cup and saucer on the table. “How dare anyone play God! Even Will, a physician, did not, and when anyone used that phrase about doctors he corrected them. He used to say, ”I’m a skilled mechanic. I deal in the human body, not cars.“ He was right.”
“Did he ever question abortion?”
Benita shook her head. “Never. Not once. He believed the fetus contained the possibility of life but was not life. He always said, when he slapped the bottom and heard that first cry, that was life. And you know,” she leaned forward, “his mission was intelligent planning. When all this hoopla started about global warming, Will would throw down the paper or talk back to the TV: ‘What do you expect when people breed with no sense of responsibility to the environment?” Oh, he could get worked up.“
“He’s right. Was right.” A slight breeze lifted the top leaves of Will’s maple. “Benita, nature makes sense. People don’t.”
“I tend to agree.” She was quiet for a few moments. “You know who else has been reading the Bible to me? Alicia. Another voice like liquid gold. She surprises me. We play golf when we can, but I… well, she feels for people. She reaches out, where others keep their distance. And when she and BoomBoom come, they check in with the kids and do whatever needs to be done—which is quite a lot, I’m afraid, because I haven’t lifted a finger. I feel like I can’t move.”
“She and BoomBoom do seem to have brought out the best in each other. We seem to be surrounded by surprises of all manner.” Big Mim now placed her cup and saucer on the silver tray. “I’m sure all is secure, but if some unforeseen financial burden should… well, you know, don’t hesitate to call me, Benita. That’s what friends are for, and I hope you won’t let pride stand in the way.”
A long pause followed as Benita searched for words. “I don’t know where I stand, Mim. I hope I would accept assistance if I needed it. I went through some of Will’s papers when I went down to the office. Georgina drove me. I don’t trust myself to drive, because I burst into tears at the most inopportune moments. Anyway, I went through the business checking account. I asked Kylie Kraft for the outstanding invoices. Actually, Margaret does that. I didn’t really know the girls’ specific jobs. Everything was in order, although I noticed there wasn’t as much money in the account as I anticipated. I asked Margaret—she sends out the bills—why it was a bit low, and she said some of the larger payments were still outstanding.”
“Is Margaret good at the details?”
“Yes. Each time a check comes in, she copies it along with the invoice. Everything goes on a disc. The original copy is kept in the backroom files—which are bulging, I might add. When those files overflow, they are transferred to a U-Store-It.”
“Why?”
“If there’s a fire or flood, no records. Without records, no money. The insurance companies will leave you in the lurch. They make life hard enough, the insurers. Do you know we carry thirteen policies? Thirteen! And only one is for the house, one for the cars. All the others are medical in one way or the other. Mim, it’s a nightmare. People have no idea what’s happened to medicine.”
“I know.” Her curiosity aroused, Big Mim inquired, “Who had a key to the storage unit?”