[Consequences are the results of actions taken or not taken. They can be intended or unintended. This story is about both kinds. I hope you enjoy this story. If the response is such that a follow-up is wanted, it will be submitted. Your votes and comments will determine if there is a follow-up.]
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On April tenth my Dad died in his sleep. He was sixty-four. He had moved to the small town where I was born two years before I was born. It was my Mom's home town. Dad was fresh out of the service. They married within six months and a year later I was born. Dad worked at the lumber yard and eventually bought it from Mr. Conners.
I grew up with sawdust, two by fours and knowing the difference between a two-penny and a four-penny nail. When I graduated from high school I went away to college and majored in business.
Late in my freshman year Mom died of a heart attack. I went back home for her funeral. After the burial Dad took me aside and said he wanted me to finish college. He wanted me to go all the way to an MBA. He paid the bills for college, room and board for the six years it took to get the MBA. I came home once a year and we hung out like friends when I was home. We both missed her a lot and spoke of our memories often.
On April tenth I got a call at work from Sandy. Sandy was my age and lived with her folks a quarter mile from Dad. She called to tell me she found Dad and that I needed to come home. I flew to the nearest big airport and rented a car. I was home the morning of the eleventh. Sandy was sitting on our front porch when I drove up. I wondered why it had to be Sandy. Why did she call? Why was she the one sitting on the front porch?
She was dressed just as she was all through high school: a long sleeved plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up near her elbows, Levis with a western belt and oval silver buckle, brown worn boots. Her hair was in a pony tail, longer than I remembered but just as blond.
She met me in front of the porch and hugged me briefly.
"I'm glad you came."
"I didn't know he was even sick."
"He wasn't. I saw him two days ago at the Builder's Center. He was cutting lumber for a special order. He smiled and waved. That night we had dinner together and he was joking around. Doc Hoag says it was a sudden heart thing and he didn't even wake up from the pain."
"That's a blessing."
"I agree. We can go to the mortuary if you want or we can talk a while first."
"Did you schedule a service?"
"Eleven tomorrow. It'll just be a graveside service. That is what your Dad wanted."
"Yes. Dad wasn't for much fuss."
"We do need to drop in on Myron if you're up for it."
"Myron Goldman?"
"Your Dad's lawyer. I know, he was your tight end in high school too."
"Wow! A lawyer. I didn't know."
"Pretty good one as far as I can tell. Your Dad liked him."
"You up for hanging with me as I get things done?"
"I cleared my very busy calendar so I could be with you, at least for the next two days."
We got in the car and by her direction I drove downtown and parked in front of Myron's office. Like most small towns, the lawyer's office was across the street from the old courthouse. Myron opened the door when we got close and welcomed us inside.
After the standard reminiscences we sat down and Myron opened a fairly fat folder.
"Nick, your Dad left it all to you. The Builder's Center, the house on Spruce Street, the pick up, his bank accounts and his debt."
"His debt?"
"Yes. He owes a total of one hundred fifty dollars, to me."
"That's it?"
"Your Dad was a great businessman. All the inventory at the Builder's Center is paid for. He has plenty of money in his accounts to pay his employees for two months, weather the Center is open or not. The taxes on the house are paid and he has owned the house for the last twelve years. No mortgage."
"I had no idea."
Myron had me sign papers and gave me copies of everything. I hired him as my lawyer. Sandy and I left and went to the mortuary. That meeting was pretty uncomfortable for me. We finalized the plan for the graveside service. There wasn't much for me to do. Dad had planned it all and paid for it in advance.
I took Sandy back to Dad's house. She handed me the key. "If it's Ok with you, I'll keep my key." She said.
"Dad gave you a key?"
"I made dinner for your Dad every Wednesday night for the last eight years."
"Oh. Why?"
"I've always liked your Dad. After your Mom passed I somehow started looking in on him and it became a habit. I'll miss our conversations."
"Me too."
"I know you called him on Sundays."
"I loved those conversations. I learned more from him than I learned in six years of college."
"I learned a lot from him too."
I hauled my suitcase into the house and Sandy went to the kitchen. I took the suitcase up to my room and unpacked. It took about three minutes. When I went back down to the kitchen Sandy was putting the final touches on dinner for three.
I sat at my regular place at the table. The same place I sat as I grew up. Sandy sat in Mom's chair, the one closest to the stove. I was about to ask about the third plate when I heard the front door open and close.
"Nick?" The female voice called out.
"We're in the kitchen." I answered. I stood. Karen Farmer came through the doorway and right into my arms. I got a kiss and suddenly she was gone. I barely registered the press of her breasts against my chest before she had backed off and plopped into the third chair.
Sandy served dinner and we ate. We talked about Dad, the town, who was doing what to whom, the various players in the town politics and the people they thought I might remember from when we all lived here together. From conversations with Dad I knew that Karen had married Ken Farmer and it lasted five years. They had no kids. I also knew Sandy hadn't married.
As it approached nine o'clock there was a silence around the table. Dinner was long over, dishes done and the small talk had ended. Sandy and Karen looked at each other and Sandy said, "We need to prepare you for tomorrow." She paused.
"In what way?"
Karen answered, "At the funeral tomorrow there will be lots of people. Most of them liked your Dad as a good neighbor, a good businessman, a friend. Those are almost everyone in town. I suspect there will be some others from towns around."
"Most of those will be women." Sandy added.
