“Present.” Uncle Beau raised his hand like a schoolboy who’d been held back for forty years.
Fontenot looked at Uncle Beau, then ticked off a box on the form in his hand. “Your sister Diana bequeaths to you the contents of her bank account.” He made a quick note. “Minus the monies used for funeral expenses, there is a sum total of six thousand, four hundred, and thirteen dollars. As well as this letter.” He withdrew a small white envelope with Beau’s name scrawled across it in Diana’s hand.
Eureka nearly gasped at the sight of her mother’s big-looped handwriting. She yearned to reach out and wrest the envelope from Beau’s fingers, to hold something that her mother had touched so recently. Her uncle looked stunned. He tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his gray leather jacket and looked down at his lap.
“To a Miss Maureen Toney, née De Ligne—”
“That’s me, right here.” Aunt Maureen straightened in her seat. “Maureen De Ligne. My ex-husband, he—” She swallowed, adjusted her bra. “Never mind.”
“Indeed.” Fontenot’s nasal bayou accent made the word stretch on and on. “Diana wished for you to take possession of your mother’s jewelry—”
“Costume stuff, mostly.” Maureen’s lips twitched as she reached to take the velour pouch of jewelry from Fontenot. Then she seemed to hear herself, how absurd she was. She patted the pouch as if it were a small pet. “Course, it has its sentimental value.”
“Diana also bequeathed to you her car, though, unfortunately the vehicle is”—he glanced briefly at Eureka, then seemed to wish he hadn’t—“irretrievable.”
“Dodged a bullet there,” Maureen said under her breath. “I’m a leaser anyway.”
“As well, there is this letter written by Diana,” Fontenot said.
Eureka watched as the lawyer produced an envelope identical to the one he’d given Beau. Maureen reached across the table and took the envelope. She stuffed it into the bottomless cavern of her purse, where she put things she was eager to lose.
Eureka hated this lawyer. She hated this meeting. She hated her stupid, whiney aunt. She gripped the rough fabric of the ugly chair beneath her. Her shoulder blade muscles tensed in a knot in the center of her back.
“Now. Miss Eureka Boudreaux.”
“Yes!” She jumped, craning her body so her good ear was closer to Fontenot, who cast a pitying smile in her direction.
“Your father is here as your guardian.”
“I am,” Dad piped up hoarsely. And suddenly Eureka was glad that Rhoda was still at work, that the twins were being looked after by the neighbor Mrs. LeBlanc. For half an hour her father didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t mourning Diana. His face was pale, his fingers laced tightly together on his lap. Eureka had been so caught up in herself, she hadn’t considered how her father might be taking Diana’s death. She slipped her hand over Dad’s and squeezed.
Fontenot cleared his throat. “Your mother bequeaths to you the following three items.”
Eureka leaned forward in her seat. She wanted these three items: her mother’s eyes, her mother’s heart, her mother’s arms wrapped tightly around her now. Her own heart beat faster and her stomach churned.
“This bag contains a locket.” Fontenot withdrew a blue leather jewelry bag from his briefcase and slid it carefully across the table to Eureka.