The Empty Nest

Hi Everyone,

This one has been a long time in the making as it was one of the first stories I started. It uses a tired old plot device but I hope you forgive me. It has four chapters which were all submitted at once. I'll leave any further comment until the end of chapter four.

Thanks to Captain's Siren for the initial editing many moons ago and to Favored for polishing it after I'd pulled it apart and had another go.

Let me know what you think!

Cheers

CharlieB4

*****

I was waiting outside the court building, my solicitor had not arrived yet. The sun was shining, surprisingly warm for autumn. The wind was from the northwest, but only a zephyr. Other people stood in loose bunches around the entrance to the building, eyeing each other suspiciously.

A hire car pulled up to the curb in front of where I was standing. An immaculately dressed woman got out clutching a designer bag that matched her shoes, my soon to be ex-wife. With her was a tall, fat Frenchman with a shock of dark hair that seemed to stick out in all directions, her new partner. He was followed out of the car by her legal team; a queen's counsel, his associate, and a briefing solicitor. They didn't acknowledge my presence as they strode in through the doors, finding something more interesting to look at in the opposite direction.

My solicitor finally arrived just before our mediation was supposed to start. He waddled up the street towards me, apologizing as he got closer.

"Sorry, Jeff, parking's a real bitch around here!" He looked me up and down, "When I said dress down, I didn't mean quite that far down."

I looked down at myself, a Ralph Lauren shirt, pair of Levi's and RM Williams boots. I didn't think I looked too bad. Looking back at him, I took in the rumpled suit, the white shirt bulging over his pants, buttons straining to contain his girth. A stained tie hung askew around his neck which was flushed red like his face from the exertion of walking up the street.

"At least my clothes are clean and they fit me, Brian!" I shot back, poking my finger into his pudgy belly.

He laughed, "Touché, I see you still have the sharp tongue that won us so many debates back at school."

We shook hands warmly, then he pointed towards the door.

"Are you ready for this?"

"I'm not looking forward to it, but I'm ready," I replied.

"You know your offering them too much, it's no way to start a negotiation!"

"Let's just see how it pans out," I said as I walked through the doors.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

14 months earlier

I sat in the office on a Sunday afternoon going over our financial situation. It wasn't good. We weren't broke, the debt wasn't over my head but it was lapping at my chin. I was 49 and running my own accountancy firm that was doing well in a large country town. The problem was my personal accounts were being drained faster than I could shovel the money in there. A wife obsessed with appearances meant our three daughters had to go to the best private schools and the best universities. When the last one had been finishing her studies I was looking forward to a slowdown in the spending, but then the weddings had started.

I guess I can't complain too loudly, because I'd enjoyed the graduations and walking my beautiful daughters down the aisle. As I have already said, we were not destitute but I would be working well into my seventies to get my debts covered and enough put aside to retire. The last wedding had been the biggest, I had to re-mortgage our house to cover it, and so if anything went wrong with the property market or my business, I was fucked.

It had started to affect my health. I wasn't sleeping - I would wake soon after I went to bed and toss and turn with the figures rolling around in my head. I'd lost weight, my blood pressure was up, and my GP was worried about my prostate being slightly enlarged. It was all getting me down.

I left the office and headed for home. As I headed up the drive, I wondered whether Rachel would contemplate selling our house and moving into an apartment. We were "empty-nesters" now. We didn't need six bedrooms and five bathrooms. I walked into the side entrance next to the garage, calling out to let Rachel know I was home. I found her on the deck off the kitchen, sitting in the sun with a glass of wine.

"Grab a beer and come and join me."

"Isn't it a bit cold out there?"

"Nonsense! You spend too much time in the office, you need some fresh air."

I got a glass of water and went out to sit with her.

"Where is your beer?" she asked, looking up from the magazine she was reading.

"Doctor said I should ease up on alcohol till I get my blood pressure checked again next week."

"Surely one won't hurt!"

"It is only 3 pm, I might save my one beer for later," I snapped.

"No need to get cranky. I think you need a holiday."

"Yeah right." I stood and went to the rail around the deck, looking out into the garden.

"It says here that with the downturn in Europe you can pick up a villa in the south of France for next to nothing." Rachel said pointing an article in the magazine she was reading.

"Well, unless they are giving them away with airfares and food included we are not going."

"Marjorie from the hair salon is going on a cruise around the Greek islands for six weeks."

'So that's what this was all about,' I thought, but stayed silent.

Rachel continued, "She is only a hairdresser, and her husband mows lawns for a living. If they can afford it, why can't we?"

I took a deep breath. The beast inside was stirring, and if I let him out then things wouldn't be the same again. I tried to keep my voice level and calm.

"Tom runs a mowing business with ten employees and lucrative council and government contracts. Marjorie has cut hair for thirty five years. Their kids went to the local school and got scholarships to college. The two sons worked during their summer holidays and bought their own cars. When they got married the bride's parents paid for the weddings."

"But they live in that little three bedroom place on the western side of the highway!" Rachel was getting up a head of steam.

"And they have more money in the bank than we owe the bank, and that's a lot!" I replied, still trying to stay in control.

"Well maybe you should take up mowing lawns!" Rachel sneered. She was on her feet now.

The beast was taking over me. I had never raised my voice in anger towards my wife before. I would always hold it in, leave the vicinity, and take out my frustrations on some poor inanimate object. Now, it was too late for that.

"Maybe you should have got off your fat arse and got a job! Maybe you should have made our daughters work for what they wanted instead of turning them into snobby pampered princesses! Maybe if they and you had to work for a living you all might appreciate what you have!" I shouted, spit spraying from my mouth.

Rachel took a step back. It was like I had punched her, and I suppose emotionally I had. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. The beast was enjoying his freedom, so I continued.

"Go on a holiday with you? I'd rather be locked in a room with the world's deadliest snakes. The end might be painful, but at least it would be quick!"

Rachel's bottom lip quivered, tears filled her eyes. A low moan escaped her throat then she turned and fled inside, slamming the door as she went.

I slumped back down in a chair and buried my head in my hands. Why had I been such a bastard? We had been married for the better part to thirty years, had a lot of great times together. Rachel had stuck by me when things hadn't been going great before. This had not been the best way to handle things.

I went inside to find my wife and apologize. After a quick search I deduced that she had locked herself in the bedroom. I knocked and asked to come in, but didn't get a reply, saying sorry through a locked door is not what I had wanted but it was my only option.

Rachel didn't come out that night so I slept in a spare room. The next morning the door was still locked. Luckily, I had a suit that had just returned from the dry cleaners and hadn't made it to my wardrobe. So I dressed and went to work. When I returned home the bedroom was unlocked, but Rachel and her car were gone. Her overnight bag was gone so I assumed that she had gone to her younger sister's.

I rang my brother-in-law's mobile. Jim answered on the second ring.

"What the fuck did you say?" he asked as he suppressed a chuckle.

"That's not important, I just want to make sure Rachel's okay."

"She's fine, perched up in my chair in the living room with a glass of wine."

"Did she say how long she was going to stay?" I enquired.

"Not that I know of. I can't see it being too long, Lady Muck in a three bedroom townhouse with five others and one bathroom? She will be home inside two days, maybe two hours!"

Jim didn't think too much of Rachel. Whenever he came over, she told people he worked in local government. She couldn't bring herself to say her brother-in-law drove a garbage truck. I was about to reply, but Jim cut me off. It appeared his wife had heard him on his phone.

"Who's on the phone, Jim? It's not Jeff is it?" Audrey, Jim's wife and Rachel's sister enquired.

"No, err no, its work."

"Fuck, you're a terrible liar, work has never rung your mobile! Give me the phone. I want to talk to him."

"Jeff?"

"Hi, Audrey."

"Don't hi me, mister. I thought you were different from the rest of the arseholes in the world."

"I'd had a bad time at the office. I said I was sorry!"

"You can't just say sorry for it. You hadn't even been drinking, so you can't use that excuse."

"I only said we couldn't afford to go on holiday!"

"You called her fat and said you would rather die than be with her!"

I was quickly getting sick of this conversation. It was bad enough taking back things that I said to my wife, many of which I still believed to be true. I couldn't take being verbally assaulted by her little sister. The beast was stirring again, and after he had been loose once he couldn't be restrained.

"What's wrong with telling the truth? For the last twenty-eight years I have bitten my tongue! Do you know what I want to say when she asks, does my bottom look big in this? Of course it does! Rachel, you've got a huge, fat arse! Unless you were wearing a two-man tent, it's going to stick out!" God that felt good! And I was just getting started.

"Am I showing too much cleavage? Well dear anything to keep them from looking at your hideous makeup and hair! Did you really pay someone to make you look like a clown? I mean really, Audrey, who in the whole world thinks having their hair colored platinum blonde then putting red streaks through it looks natural? It looked like someone put a scoop of ice cream on her head then drizzled raspberry topping over it. Anyway, she calls me old, boring, dumbass, skinny, and chicken legs, and I have to take it. It's about time she got some of her own medicine."

"Jeffrey! Really! I ... I... I don't know what to say!"

"How about goodbye!" I said with a smile in my voice and a song in my heart, before slamming the phone down in the cradle.

Of course later, I again regretted it. It simply wasn't in my nature to be so cruel to one that I still thought of with affection. I guess I had kept those little things to myself, bottled up for so long eventually it got to be too much. Every time, I had bitten my tongue and swallowed the words of rebuke. Every time, I had lamely said "yes dear" as she criticized me. It had been stored away and, I thought, forgotten. I suppose that's what a therapist would call baggage.

I rang my doctor to see if he could recommend someone to talk too. He laughed.

"I've often wondered how you can take it. I've always thought that she treats you like her lapdog rather than an equal. I'd wager if I took your blood pressure now it would be normal!"

He did recommend someone to talk to. I rang, but I couldn't get to see her for two weeks.

It turned out Jim's prediction was spot on - the next afternoon Rachel was home. She wouldn't speak to me or sit in the same room as me, but she prepared dinner. It was eaten in sullen silence, then we retired to separate bedrooms.

I had to go to a neighboring town to see a couple of clients, so I took the opportunity to stay overnight rather than drive home to a "cold" house. I walked through a mall in between appointments. Bored, I sat on a bench watching the world pass by. Getting my phone out, I checked in with the office, but there was nothing to report. I rang my sister, but only got her voice mail. I left a long winded message about the situation with Rachel, then got moving again.

I stopped at a bookshop to grab a trashy novel to read in my motel room. I don't know why, but as I walked up to the counter, the poster behind the salesgirl caught my eye. Lottery Jackpot, 30 million dollars. Being a bit of a maths nerd and an accountant I had never ever bought a lottery ticket as I knew the odds were astronomically against you winning. It was just a spur of the moment thing. I got the book and a ticket in the draw.

Later that night, I got room service and then lay down to start the book. The lottery ticket fell out of the bag with the book, so I tucked it inside the back cover and promptly forgot about it. It was three weeks later that I was watching the local news and one of the stories was the search for the mystery lottery winner. The reporter was standing outside the bookshop I got my ticket from interviewing the owner. He had no idea who had bought the ticket, telling the guy that big jackpots always increased their sales as people bought tickets who wouldn't normally.

I got that excited feeling in my stomach, I made myself relax. The chances were still probably one in a few thousand that I was the one who wasn't a regular who bought a ticket for that draw. I got up slowly and went to my briefcase in the home office to get the novel out of the side pocket. I sat down in front of the computer and typed the lottery name into a search engine.

On the website, the home page was full of articles about the missing lottery winner. The winning numbers were prominent at the top of the page. With trembling hands, I pulled the folded lottery ticket out of the book and checked my numbers. In disbelief, I checked them three more times. I was the winner. Holy shit! I was the winner!

I was the winner, but only I knew. I was about to jump up and run and tell Rachel, but I didn't. Looking back I'm partly ashamed I didn't. If I had, maybe things would have been a lot different. Instead I sat and thought about "my" future, not "our" future. The money would easily account for my debts, but I was worried about what damage Rachel could do. I pictured around the world trips, a nifty little sports car, and an apartment in the city. I was sure that she could make one hell of a dent in it.

I made a decision then that probably cost me my marriage. This money could mean that I never had to worry about money ever again. If properly managed it could set up my children and grandchildren as well. I decided to keep my win quiet for now.

The next afternoon I rang the lottery hotline and explained that I was pretty sure I was the winner they were looking for. They were excited and wanted to send the media, but I wouldn't allow it. They organized for me to go to one of their regional offices to present the ticket for verification and get payment details organized. That night I lay in bed tossing over what I was going to do with the money.

In the morning I had it sorted in my head. As soon as I thought she would be awake, I rang my sister, who worked as an investment banker in the city. After getting through the formalities and allaying her concerns for my marriage I got down to business.

"Sis, I've had a bit of luck and I was wondering if you could help me out."

"Sure Jeff, what did you do win the lottery!" She said laughing.

"Well umm, actually yes."

"Holy shit! I was joking you old fart! Are you serious?"

"I most certainly am," I said, trying to keep a lid on my excitement.

"Wow! Congratulations! Rachel will be over the moon. What can little sister do for you?"

"It's a little delicate. ...Um. I haven't told anybody yet," I said quietly.

"What the fuck! When did you find out?" she asked incredulously.

"Officially, yesterday afternoon; unofficially, the evening before."

"Bloody hell, you're a cold fish! I'd be dancing in the street in my underwear!" she said with a laugh.

"Not really something an accountant would do is it?" I replied with a smile in my voice.

"Yeah, I suppose, anyway what is it I can do?"

"I was wondering if you could invest ten million for me?" I asked tentatively.

"All right, I can tell from your voice there is a catch!"

"Well... I want this ten million to remain secret. It's going to be my rainy day fund. I'll set up a dummy company with you as the managing director. When I need it, I'll take nine million, you get one million plus whatever you have made by investing it."

"Are you serious? That's a lot of money! How much did you win?"

"A fair bit more than that, probably best you don't know too much. Will you do it?"

"Of course I'd be pleased to help."

"Great, I'll let you know when I get it all set up. Got to go, bye."

We said our good byes. After breakfast, I went to the office and started the paperwork to set things in motion. Once the bank opened, I rang the manager and told him I would be making a big deposit in the near future. The bastard sounded disappointed. I guess he wanted to keep sucking interest out of me. I got him to organize two new accounts, one in my name and one in Rachel's.

I called my secretary in and asked her to clear my appointments for the day as I had an important meeting out of town. At the lottery building, I was ushered into a plush office. They took my ticket and confirmed it was the winner.

"Congratulations, Jeff! You will soon be 33 million dollars richer!" the manager said.

"Umm.. Wasn't it only 30?" I asked.

"Nobody won the division two, so it gets added to your win!"

"Umm...sorry to ask another dumb question, but you said soon to be?"

"Yes, we'll you can't expect to walk out of here with 33 million in your back pocket. If you give us some bank details, the money will be put into the account or accounts you nominate in two weeks."

"Oh, okay." At least that would give me plenty of time to get everything set up.

I left surprisingly deflated. Going back to the office, I completed most of the paperwork for the company set up. The next two weeks were quiet, and things warmed a little on the home front. I took Rachel to a fundraising benefit for the local hospital and our conversation was almost civil. The bank got the paperwork done and I took it home for Rachel to sign for her account. She didn't ask, and I didn't tell. My sister came on a flying visit to sign herself up and I was ready.

On the big day, I was surprised by how excited I was. I had sent Rachel and my bank account details and my sister's investment company details to the lottery. Every hour I would go online and check the balances. As you would expect, at 4:59pm the money appeared in our and I assume my sister's company accounts. Yippee!

The next day, I went to the bank and paid off the mortgage and the car loans. I got cards for both accounts. After paying off our debts both Rachel and my account had a balance 10.75 million. I rang my sister and told her to get cracking on making her fortune.

On the way home I picked up a bottle of French champagne and a bunch of flowers. Walking in the door I presented the flowers and wine to Rachel.

"About time you started crawling!" she exclaimed - I bit my tongue.