“I can't believe Stanley lived in a maid's room in the attic all his life,” Tom said, shaking his head sadly as they walked back down the stairs. “What an amazing man he must have been.” And more than a little eccentric.

“He was,” Sarah said softly, thinking once again of the incredible bequest he had left her. She still hadn't absorbed it, nor had the others with theirs. Tom still looked shell-shocked over his inheritance. Ten million dollars.

“I'm glad he remembered you in his will,” Tom said generously, as they reached the main hall again. The cab she had called to take him to the airport was waiting outside. “Call if you ever come to St. Louis. I have a son about your age. He just got divorced, and has three adorable children.” She laughed at the suggestion, and then suddenly he looked embarrassed. “I assume, from what Stanley said in his letter, that you're not married.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Good. Then come to St. Louis. Fred needs to meet a nice woman.”

“Send him to San Francisco. And call me too if you ever come out on business,” Sarah said warmly.

“I'll do that, Sarah,” he said, sounding fatherly as he gave her a hug. They had become friends in a single morning, and felt nearly related. They were, through Stanley. They were bonded through his generosity and benevolence, which had blessed them all. “Take care of yourself,” Tom said kindly.

“You too,” she said, as she walked him to the cab, and then smiled at him in the pale November sunshine. “I'd love to introduce you to my mother,” she said mischievously, and he laughed at her.

She was teasing, though it wasn't a bad idea. Although she thought her mother would give any man a pain in the neck. And Tom looked far too normal for her. There was nothing dysfunctional about him. She'd have no reason to go to a twelve-step group if she got involved with him, and then what would Audrey do? Without an alcoholic in her life, she'd be bored. “Fine. I'll bring Fred out here, and we'll have dinner with your mother.”

Sarah waved at Tom as the cab drove away, and then went back in the house to wrap up the details with Marjorie. Sarah was glad she'd gone to Stanley's room with Tom. It broke the spell for her. There was nothing to hide from or mourn for there. It was just an empty room now, the shell in which he had lived, and which he had shed. Stanley was gone, and would live forever in her heart. It was hard to realize that suddenly her circumstances had changed, dramatically in fact. She had far less to adjust to than the others did, but it had been a huge windfall for her. She decided not to tell anyone for the moment, not even her mother or Phil. She needed to get used to the idea herself.

She and Marjorie discussed plans about the janitorial service, and the broker's open house. She signed a release confirming the asking price, on behalf of the heirs. They had signed a power of attorney at her office, allowing her to sell the house and negotiate for them. An identical document had been sent by fax to those who weren't present, for them to sign as well. She and Marjorie agreed that it was unlikely to move quickly, and unless a prospective buyer had real imagination, or a love of history, it was not going to be an easy sell. A house this size, in the condition it was in, was going to scare most people to death.

“Have a nice Thanksgiving,” Marjorie said to her, “if I don't see you before that. I'll let you know how the broker's open goes.”

“Thanks. Have a nice holiday.” Sarah smiled at her, as she got into her car. Thanksgiving was the following week, still ten days away. Phil would be away with his kids, as usual. It was always a quiet weekend for her. She had the coming weekend with him to look forward to before that.

He called her on her cell phone as she was on the way back to her office, and asked how the meeting with Stanley's heirs had gone.

“Were they blown away?” he asked with interest. She was surprised he had remembered and even called to inquire. Often he forgot what she was working on, but this time he had kept track.

“They sure were.” She had never told him how much money was involved, but he had figured out himself that it was a lot.

“Lucky bastards. That's one way to make a fortune.” She didn't tell him she just had, too. She wanted to keep it to herself. But she smiled at his comment, and wondered what he would say if she told him she was a lucky bastard, too. Shit, not just lucky, she had suddenly become a rich girl. She felt like an heiress as she drove downtown. And then he startled her, as he sometimes did.

“I have bad news for you, babe,” he said, as she felt the usual drag of an anchor on her heart. Bad news, with him, usually meant less time he could spend with her. And she was right. “I have to go to New York this week, on Thursday. I'll be there till next Tuesday or Wednesday, taking depositions for a new client. I'm not going to see you till after the Thanksgiving weekend. I'll have to pick up my kids the night I get home. We're heading straight up to Tahoe. You know how that goes.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, trying to be a good sport about it. Hell, she had just inherited nearly a million dollars. How bad could life be? She was just disappointed not to see him. It would be nearly three weeks before she saw him again, since the previous weekend. It was a long time for them. “That's too bad.”

“You'll be with your mom and grandmother on Thanksgiving anyway.” He said it as though trying to convince her that she would be too busy to see him, which wasn't the case. She would be at her grand-mother's house for a few hours, as she always was, and then she would have three lonely days over the weekend without him. And of course he wouldn't compensate for it by seeing more of her the following week. She'd have to wait a whole week, till the next weekend, to see him. God forbid he should miss the gym one night, or an opportunity to play squash with his friends.

“I have an idea,” she said, trying to sound ebullient about it, as though it were a novel idea she had never suggested to him before. In fact, she had every year, and never with good results. “Why don't I come up to Tahoe on Friday for the weekend? The kids are old enough not to be shocked by my being there. It might be fun. I can always get my own room at the hotel, so we don't upset the kids,” she said, sounding jollier than she felt, and trying to be convincing. His voice was firm when he answered.

“You know that won't work, babe. I need time alone with my kids. Besides, my love life is none of their business. You know I like to keep those things separate. Besides, their mother doesn't need a firsthand report on my life. I'll see you when I get back.” So much for that. She never got anywhere with that suggestion, but each year she tried. He kept a firm division between church and state. Between her and his children. He had put her in a pigeonhole years ago, and kept her there. “Weekend piece of ass.” It wasn't a reality she liked. She had inherited nearly a million dollars that day, which opened a thousand new doors for her, except the one she wanted so much with him. No matter how rich she had suddenly become, nothing had changed in her love life. Phil was as unattainable as ever, except on his terms. He was emotionally and physically unavailable to her, except when he chose to be otherwise. And on holidays, he didn't. As far as he was concerned, holidays belonged to him and his kids, and he expected her to fend for herself. That was their deal. The terms had been set by him right from the beginning and never changed.

“I'm sorry we're going to miss this weekend,” he said, sounding apologetic but busy.

“So am I,” she said sadly. “I understand. I'll see you in about three weeks.” As always, she had done the math quickly. She could always figure out in the flicker of an eye how long it had been since she'd last seen him, and before she'd be seeing him again. This time it would be two weeks and five days. It felt like an eternity to her. It wouldn't have been as bad if they could see each other over the Thanksgiving weekend. No such luck.

“I'll call you later. I've got someone waiting outside my office,” Phil said in haste.

“Sure. No problem.” She hung up and drove the rest of the way to her office. She tried to convince herself not to let it spoil her day. Wonderful things had already happened. Stanley had left her a fortune. So what if Phil was going to New York, and she couldn't spend Thanksgiving weekend with him, or even if she didn't see him for nearly three weeks? What the hell was wrong with her priorities? she asked herself. She had inherited three-quarters of a million dollars, and she was worried about not seeing her boyfriend? But it wasn't her priorities she was concerned about. The real question was, what the hell was wrong with his?





Chapter 8


Thanksgiving had always been important to Sarah and her family. It was a special time they shared not only with each other but with special friends. Sarah's grandmother had made a point of inviting what she called “lost souls” every year, people she liked and who had nowhere else to go. Inviting friends, even a few of them, gave the day a festive atmosphere, and made the three women feel less alone. And the people they in vited to join them were always deeply grateful to be included. In recent years, the festivities had always been enlivened even more by the inclusion of one of her grandmother's current suitors. Over the past ten years, there had been a lot of them.

Mimi, as everyone called her, was an irresistible human being, small, pretty, “cute,” funny, warm, and sweet. She was everyone's ideal grandmother, and nearly every man's ideal woman. At eighty-two, she was lively, happy, had a great attitude about life, and never dwelled on anything unpleasant. Her outlook was always positive, and she was interested and open to new people. She exuded happiness and sunshine. As a result, people wanted to be with her. Sarah smiled to herself, thinking about her, on the way to her grand-mother's house, on Thanksgiving afternoon.