“You’re my wife, you belong at my side, and you have responsibilities to me and to our business! Do you have any idea how much I’ve had to deal with since you’ve been gone?”
“I’m sorry for any inconvenience, and I’m going back to Corfu because I have unfinished business there.”
“What kind of unfinished business?”
“My first cousin, Kiki, and her husband own a little restaurant with a friend, and I’ve been running the kitchen with him while his sous chef is on vacation.”
“Let them hire someone else!”
“I don’t want to. For once in my life I’m doing what I want to do!”
“Okay, Eliza. You go back. Meanwhile, why don’t we try to put on a good face for the sake of the boys and the others?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? But then, you’re the better actor, Adam. You’ve been putting on a good face for years.”
I thought about what she meant. She still thought I’d been in love with Eve all along. She wasn’t going to get away with making me eat shit forever.
“Eliza. I love you. I have always loved you. I thought I loved Eve, but I don’t. Not one bit.”
“How do you know?”
Now I had her attention.
“I just don’t feel it.”
“Let’s see how the next few days unfold, Adam.”
Cookie appeared in the hallway outside the living room. She stood there under a crystal chandelier that had to be as big as a small car with this big fake smile on her face. God, I hated her guts. She was such a meddling troublemaker.
“Hello, Eliza. Y’all ready for some supper?”
chapter 17
eliza
We sat down to dinner in the kitchen. Cookie had bought two rotisserie chickens from Harris Teeter and hacked them into chunks with no regard for aesthetics. There was dry salad from a bag in a bowl and a cut-up baguette in a basket. I got the butter from the refrigerator, cut some pats, and put them on a small plate. Then I took the olive oil and balsamic vinegar from the pantry and mixed up a quick dressing.
“You use salad dressing? It makes you fat,” Cookie said.
“No, it doesn’t. Processed carbohydrates and refined sugar make you fat,” I said. “Salad dressing in moderate amounts just makes your food taste better. And olive oil is good for you, especially your skin.” I was fed up with her too.
Cookie snapped back, “I’m sure you know better.”
“Maybe she does,” Adam said.
I refused to meet his eyes or to give any indication that I appreciated his support.
The atmosphere was awkward. Adam was feeling no love.
“So, Eliza, how was your trip to Greece?” Cookie asked.
“Incredible,” I said. “I’ll show you pictures of my long-lost family after dinner.”
“Did you have nice weather?” Ted asked.
“Beautiful,” I said. “It’s a lot like a Charleston winter except for the humidity.”
“Did I tell y’all about the letter I found?” Ted said.
When Ted went looking for Clarabeth’s will, he found an envelope stapled to the folder with his name on it.
“What did it say?” Cookie asked.
“Yes, what did it say?” I asked.
“Here, y’all can read it yourselves,” he said and pulled it from his back pocket.
Clarabeth had probably left very specific instructions in her will about how her funeral was to be conducted. Cookie and Adam got up and stood behind me to read it over my shoulder.
My darling Ted,
If you are reading this it means I’m already singing in that great big choir in heaven, at least I hope that’s where I go! (Please pray for that to happen to my soul!)
Although we found each other later in life, you are my most favorite husband of all and your family became like my children and grandchildren. I want you to know that you brought me the greatest joy I have ever known and that I loved you with all my heart. Everything I’m leaving behind is yours to enjoy. I do not want you to fret. When you think of me I want you to smile and remember all the happiness we shared.
As to my funeral, I don’t want one. What I’d prefer is to have my body delivered to McAlister’s, have it cremated, and tell them to put my ashes in the urn that’s on the fireplace mantel in the living room. Then I want you, Adam, Eliza, the boys, Cookie, Carl, Eve, and Daphne to take my ashes out to dinner in the private room upstairs at Cypress, my favorite restaurant. Hire a string quartet or a piano player, put my ashes in the middle of the table, order a fabulous dinner, expensive wine, arrange for gorgeous flowers, and say nice things about me. After dinner please take my ashes home in the urn and put them back on the mantel. The cash to pay for all of this is in the pocket of my baby blue cashmere robe in the guest bedroom closet. Now, go have fun!
All my love,
Clarabeth
“Wasn’t that just like her?” I said.
“She was a practical woman. Thoughtful too,” Ted said. “So, that’s the plan.”
Clarabeth was also very dignified but not particularly into any kind of organized religion. I knew she believed in God because we talked about it once or twice. And I was very glad indeed that she didn’t want to do something crazy like hire the Burke High School Marching Band to lead her casket down Broad Street in a Cinderella coach. Some people make a spectacle of themselves even after they die. I mean, what’s the point? One last hurrah on the way out? Give your money to a worthy cause instead.
Ted, Clarabeth’s worthy cause, was now a very rich widower, but he didn’t care about money so much. He never had been exposed to all the trappings of wealth until he met Clarabeth. But he would rather have had Clarabeth alive than all the money in the world. That much was clear to everyone.
“So, did you look in the pocket of her baby blue bathrobe?” Adam asked.
“Yep. And I found the biggest wad of hundred-dollar bills I’ve ever seen in my life. So, it looks like Clarabeth is taking us all out to dinner. Should I call Cypress for Saturday night? I’m picking up the urn on Saturday morning.”
“Why not?” Cookie said. “I know a pianist I can call if you’d like. And I can call Charleston Flowers.”
“I thought you had a date,” Adam said.
“That’s Friday night, Mr. Stanley,” Cookie said.
“Who do you have a date with?” Ted asked.
He looked surprised and, to be honest, a little shaken.
“Why? Are you jealous?” Cookie asked.
“Ever the provocateur!” I said.
“Certainly not!” Ted said. “I just like to know what’s going on.”
“Boy, is that the question of the day or what?” Adam said, laughing with an annoying little heh, heh, heh.
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t tell him how not funny he was.
“No, I met a very nice man on one of those dating sites for seniors and we’re meeting at Rue de Jean for an early supper.”
“Well, that’s wonderful, Cookie. If he seems creepy at all, I want you to get up and leave,” Ted said. “Tell him you’re going to the ladies’ room, but walk out the back door.”