As this story is 16 Word pages long I will tell you it is most similar to my story, 'Chased', and SemperAmare's, 'A Rich Fetish', in that it is all aftermath. This one has been independently rated at 3.5/5 pickaxe handles on the rating system that you can find via my and CreativityTakesCourage's joint profile, SemperAmare. There is no sex.
Once again, your thanks should go to the beautiful CreativityTakesCourage for improving this story with her editing skills. You can read her stories on this site and our joint stories under the username
SemperAmare.
When we are together, we're a killer team and I think that shows in our joint stories. You don't have to feel bad saying she is a better writer than me, I know.
To partially counteract the sour atmosphere of division that always lingers after one of the Lit elite's socially excluding, snobby little invitationals here, I offer words of encouragement to the 'not-in' crowd. If I can write stories that amuse others, anyone can. If you're a virgin, give writing a go. If you've written one or two that have been hammered by the harsh critics here, suck it in and try again. Get it right and discover the joy I did. If I'm not busy, I'm happy to look at anything for you and encourage you in any way.
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CHAPTER 1
I looked around the room at all the sad, tearful faces present. I wasn't surprised at all by their grief. My husband, Dave, had been a terrific father, successful businessman, great supporter of our community, and a loyal friend.
As a husband, I couldn't have asked for a better man. He'd done his share of the household duties willingly, fully supported my wish to be a stay-at-home mum, then, in later years, my wish to limit my out-of-house activities to church roles and volunteering. He'd been a far more attentive father to our three children, Molly, Derek, and Anne than most men, and that showed in their successful lives since leaving the nest Dave and I had made for them. Well, Molly and Derek had left. Anne, I was sure, was on the cusp.
I looked around at the miserable faces of my children. All of them looked devastated; even my normally reserved Derek. Me? I was still in shock at the suddenness of Dave's passing and struggling to accept that the man I'd loved totally for thirty-two years had gone to play golf one bright and sunny Saturday morning and had never returned.
His lifelong friend and our family solicitor, Jack, who was sitting at the head of the large oak conference table, next to his secretary, had been the one to tell me. Apparently, Dave had driven off the fourth tee then just collapsed. The results of the medical examination had yet to be made public, but, according to Jack, Dave was dead before he hit the ground. They'd performed CPR on him, but by the time the ambulance guys fitted a defibrillator to him his heart showed no shockable rhythm. He was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.
By the time Jack had managed to track me down—I had my cell phone turned off at the time—he'd gotten word to all three of our children and they were all at the hospital before me. That was only four days ago, and I think we were all a little stunned still.
Jack opened the folder in front of him, took a deep breath and began to speak.
"I thank you all for coming today for the reading of the Will of the late David Brown, husband, father, and the best friend I ever had."
Jack was obviously pretty emotional. Beneath his eyes were dark shadows and his voice sounded as if his throat was lined with gravel. That must be why his wife, Julie, was in the office that day. She was one of my friends and had been since she met Jack shortly after my wedding. Our relationship had cooled somewhat, ten or so years ago, but I still considered her a friend. I'd seen her hugging her husband in his office as I'd been led to the conference room where all the children were already seated.
In the here and now, I watched as he drew a deep breath and settled himself to become the consummate professional I knew him to be.
"I know it may seem a departure from standard practice to read the Will before the funeral, but, as I will reveal, it was Dave's express wish. I should point out, though, that this is quite unusual, and nothing can be ratified until the full period of probate has expired. Now, to business."
He then began reading the actual Will. I didn't need to listen, after all, Dave and I'd always updated our Wills together. I knew there was a list at the start of specific items Dave wanted individuals to have. Derek, our middle child and only son, was to get Dave's medals from his time in the service with the army Corp of Engineers, or 'Sappers' as Dave liked to call them. That was when he developed his love of explosives. His rock collection was to go to Molly, our eldest, etcetera.
Tuning out, I looked around at the sombre expressions on my children's faces. Molly, at just thirty, seemed to be taking it all stoically, even though she and her dad had always been close. When I'd come in the room, I'd left her alone as she was looking at the wall with a tear in her eye. I could remember her and Dave talking about those rocks many times. She'd begun a promising career in science until she'd become accidentally pregnant to her boyfriend of about a year. Luckily, he was nice guy and did the right thing and made an honest woman of her. They'd been married for five years now and seemed as happy as ever. Two beautiful grandkids for Dave and me to spoil.
Derek, at twenty-eight, followed in his father's footsteps and was an engineer by day and an army reservist in his spare time. How long that would last was debatable, though. His wife of two years was eight months pregnant with their first. With his dad as his hero, I'm sure the child will be called David if it's a boy. I'm sad that my Dave won't be around to spoil the first grandchild to share his surname. Derek was staring at Jack. I felt for him. He looked as if he'd aged five years in the four days since his father's passing. Skin sallow, eyes red-rimmed.
Anne, my baby, was officially a mistake. Dave and I had decided two children were enough but hadn't been sure enough of that to do something drastic, like getting one of us neutered. Birth control pills had always messed around with my hormones, so we'd relied on condoms. One of them must have the failed because ten years after Derek, Anne made an appearance. Dave got snipped after that.
Anne was about to start college and, like the majority of people that age, didn't know yet what she wanted to do. She'd been helping Dave in his demolition business over the summer. She still lived at home but was spending more and more time at her boyfriend's house and I knew it was only a matter of time before I had the house to myself.
That led me to thoughts about the house; I should look at either downsizing from the six-bedroom monstrosity or hiring a housekeeper and gardener to help me out. With the contents of our bank account, and Dave's life insurance policy, I knew I'd be comfortable for the rest of my life.
I half tuned back into Jack's voice. As we'd agreed, Dave was leaving his Mustang to Anne and his trusty old jeep to Derek.
The business would be turned over to a trust, administered by the children, with the three of them acting as the board, with equal voting rights. Derek could manage it if he so chose, for a generous salary. That was fair. I knew nothing about business and wouldn't need the income.
I tuned out again as more details on running the business were read out. Fond thoughts of Dave and my life together were helping me get through the shock of his loss. He was a remarkable man, dragging himself from the poor house he'd been born into and creating assets from scratch that meant we survivors would want for little in our lives.
Suddenly, my third ear picked up a little discord in Jack's words.
"I'm sorry, what was that last bit, Jack?"
With a look of annoyance, Jack turned the page he was reading back over and started re-reading the paragraph I'd missed.
"The house is to be sold with all profits going into a trust to be administered by Jack Percell, to be used solely at his discretion for the education of my grandchildren from Molly White, nee Brown, Derek Brown, and Anne Brown. To this trust will be added the entire contents of my private bank accounts, with said Jack Percell having my power of attorney to access those accounts. He is also authorised and directed to cancel all credit cards held in my name."
My mind was reeling at this point. We'd gone well off the script of the Will that Dave and I had updated in this very office, not two years ago. What the hell was going on? Had Dave secretly changed his Will from what I knew about?
"And, as per the nomination of beneficiaries form, lodged with the insurance company, the entirety of my death benefit is to be paid to Ms Jennifer Sarah Jardine, of 12 Pedley Court, Summertown."
