The Estate of Essie Grogan Read online

  The Estate of Essie Grogan

  Kathy Vest Trimble

  Austin Macauley Publishers

  The Estate of Essie Grogan

  About The Author

  Dedication

  Copyright Information ©

  About The Author

  Kathy was born and raised in the rolling hills of southeastern Oklahoma. She raised four children and now she and her husband are empty nesters living in a retirement community in Tulsa, OK. She has decided to try her hand at writing the book that is in all of us.

  Dedication

  This is dedicated to the loves of my life. My children: Jimmy, Racheal, Mary, and Suzanne who give me hope for the next generation. And last but not least, my husband who encourages me every day to reach higher.

  Copyright Information ©

  Kathy Vest Trimble (2019)

  The right of Kathy Vest Trimble to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781788781725 (Paperback)

  ISBN 9781788781718 (Hardback)

  ISBN 9781528955188 (ePub e-book)

  www.austinmacauley.com

  First Published (2019)

  Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

  25 Canada Square

  Canary Wharf

  London

  E14 5LQ

  “Essie, you are goin’ straight to hell! You can’t take stuff with you when you die, and you got no use for that coat. You said so, yourself! You just want to be black-hearted mean to me! I asked you if I could have it when you were done with it. I ain’t wantin’ somethin’ you need. Give it to charity, my foot! I’m your next-door neighbor and you don’t give a hoot about bein’ charitable to me!”

  “Francis, you have been nothing but a nosey, gossiping, back-stabbing biddy of a neighbor since the day you moved in. I have tried, for a good many years, to be charitable and kind to you. My days left on this earth are numbered and I do not intend to spend them kissing your backside. If I do go to Hell, I will save you a seat!” With that, Essie led Francis to the door and nudged her out.

  She chuckled as she slammed the door. My, my, how good that felt! She had wanted to tell that old biddy off for more than fifty years. If she had known exactly how good it was going to feel, she would have dealt with her procrastination issues years ago. I suppose today will be the day to take care of all open businesses. Now that I have the ugly thing out of the way, I think I will go upstairs and write that last manuscript, she thought. I am finally going to write that long overdue letter to my granddaughter.

  Julie Stockton had just finished packing her personal items into totes and sat down at her desk. Just one last look around the classroom and she would say goodbye to this old southern school for girls. Ten years of trying to teach spoiled little rich girls was all over. She had never been happier to leave a place in her life. She thought about her first weeks here and wished she had never lost that feeling of awesome wonder of teaching these young women everything she had learned about literature and writing. Then she remembered the very day that the awesome wonder turned to heartsick realization. The realization that these girls were here because they hadn’t been accepted at any of the other schools, anywhere. What these girls had was money and parents who insisted they go to college. Their main interests were shopping, talking on cell phones, and the young men at another college of the same ilk just down the road. She was so deep in these thoughts that she didn’t hear Frank Martin come in the room. He stood and looked at her for a long moment before he spoke.

  "I’m going to miss you, Julie. I don’t see how you can just walk away from a job where you have tenure. You’ve invested ten long years here in Atlanta. What’s another twenty and then a big retirement from the rich daddies? Just keep giving them good enough grades to keep the parents off your back. It was hard for me for the first ten or so years, too. I finally just resigned myself to the realization that this place has its own little niche in society. These girls cannot think for themselves. They will never have to, either. After the parents are gone, they’ll have husbands or lawyers to do it for them. Old money has a way of taking care of things. This school was built with the sole purpose of putting pretty little framed diplomas on the walls of mansions. Those are used as bragging rights for parents against the parents whose kids actually had an interest in things other than themselves. There are a few of those still around. Do you remember Genevieve Green? Now, that girl was bright. She came here of her own choosing. She could have gone anywhere but wanted to stay close to her family.

  I must admit, though, she is probably the only one of that sort since you came here."

  “Oh, Frank. It just seems to me that it is a gross waste of time, energy, and the diploma I earned and my mother has framed and hanging in her living room. Every year on the last day before summer break, I think I will just do this one more year. Not this time, my good friend. This year is different. I sold my first book. I’m leaving in July for the book tour. After that, I’m going to sit on my mama’s front porch in McAlester, Oklahoma and watch the cars go by. When I hear a plane, I’ll know it’s a Cessna heading for our little airport. There will be no more jet engines rumbling overhead for me. I know I can’t live on the earnings of a writer with only one book published, but I can take some time to decide what direction to go from here. I’m forty years old. I need to start doing something worthwhile. This isn’t it.”

  “I fully comprehend what you are saying. If I didn’t have Laura and the girls, I probably wouldn’t be here either. I have just resigned myself to a nice fat salary, and truthfully, I don’t care if these young women learn chemistry or not. I do my best to teach them. I tried to make them listen until the parents came down on me hard. I got the message. Laura and I are from Atlanta. Our folks still live next door to each other. We want to keep our family here so the girls can have quality time with their grandparents. I could teach somewhere else around here but, truth is, the pay cut would put a big dent in our budget. So, I tend to look at the bright side. I don’t have to spend a lot of time on lesson plans or composing tests. I go in and lecture, put a few equations on the board, and draw a hefty sum of money for this glorified baby-sitting job. I go home every evening to a happy family and feel like I did my part to make it that way. I’m going to miss you, Julie, but I envy your opportunity to do something with your bright mind. Whatever it is you find to do, I’m sure, will be worthwhile. Do you need some help getting these totes back to your place?”

  “Actually, I rented a U-Haul truck and drove it here this morning. After I load these, I’m going to my apartment and finish up. I want to be on the road tonight.”

  “Let me help you. I can get these two big ones. If you grab those smaller stacked ones, we can get these out of here in one trip.”

  “Thanks, Frank. Not just for helping me get these down three flights of stairs, but for being a friend for the last ten years.”

  “Do you want to come by for dinner before you leave?”

  “No, thanks Frank. I’m pretty good with hellos but the goodbyes get to me. Give Laura and the girls my love and tell them I’ll be in touch.”

  They loaded the truck, and F
rank gave her a big southern gentleman’s hug.

  “Do you need help loading any furniture from staff housing?”

  “No, I’ve lived in one of the small furnished ones all of this time. I just have my clothes and a few cooking utensils and books. I can manage. I want to get on the road just after the rush hour is over so I need to get going. Thanks, again, for everything.”

  Frank smiled and walked back across the parking lot to his own vehicle. He turned and waved to the only person at this school who hadn’t given up all hope for the world becoming a better place. Maybe it was a good thing for her that she was leaving while she still had a conscience. He was happy for her and hoped, with all of his heart and soul, that Julie Stockton, of McAlester, Oklahoma, would get an award of some kind for her book. He had read it and was waiting for her next one. She was a good mystery writer, and he wished that even one of her students had read it. He knew, all the way down to the core of his soul, that none had. They couldn’t know greatness or learn from it while looking in the mirror. Their mirrors reflected back only the outer person. They saw the makeup, the earrings, and maybe a gold chain. What a cheat! What a waste! What a loss!

  He felt a huge lump in his throat then shook it off and headed for home.

  Julie drove the small truck cautiously. She had kept her driver’s license up to date but had not owned a car since college. When her book tour was over, she would need to shop for a car. Her hometown, as far as she knew, had no public transportation. That is, unless you used a phone to call a taxi. No more bus stops, hailing taxis from the curb, or subways. In some ways, it would be nice to return home for a while. Julie needed a respite from the hustle and bustle of the cities she had lived in since she was eighteen. It was time to reset her inner being to the rhythm of home.

  Now, her long trip was coming to an end. She could see the water tower from highway 69. Her feeling of excitement returned in a flood. It was the same as when she was a child and her parents had taken her to “Six Flags Over Texas.” The vacation was glorious but getting back and seeing the big blue water tower welcoming them home was comforting. Julie suddenly felt the need to pull over. She got off the highway and on to a service road and pulled into a parking lot on a hill just south of town. There she sat and took in the sprawling city. She wasn’t sure how long she would need to stay there, but she knew it would have to be at least until the tears of relief and joy were finished. She was surprised at her own sudden onset of tears. Julie was not a weepy person. Her mother was two or so miles away, and soon she would be sitting at her table with a home-cooked meal, and she could begin to redirect her life path in a more positive direction.

  Just as she was about to pull herself together, a man came to the driver’s side of the truck. He smiled but looked a bit concerned. “Are you okay, miss?”

  Julie held up her road atlas and said, “Sure, thank you. I was just having a look at the map.”

  “Oh, I see. Sorry to have bothered you but I thought you were crying, and I can’t stand to see a woman cry.” He smiled, again, and she thought he looked familiar.

  “No, I’m okay, really. I haven’t been back to these parts for a few years. Things have certainly changed. Do I know you, by any chance? Sorry for sounding so forward but you look like someone I went to school with, back in the Stone Age. I’m Julie Stockton, and I grew up here.”

  “Well, Julie, yes, I do know you, and we did go to school together. I’m John Freeman. I was a grade ahead of you, but we were in Drama class together. How is your mom doing? I worked with her for a while at the food bank.”

  “Mom is fine. She still misses Dad but is happy that I’m moving back. How are your folks and your sister, Janet?”

  “All are just as fine as fine could be. Janet is married and lives in Florida. I got married three years ago, and we just had twin girls.” He reached for his wallet and beamed as he showed her the pictures of tiny little identical twin bald and wrinkled babies.

  “Well, John, it was so good to see you and your babies are beautiful. Mom is going to start worrying if I don’t get there soon. See you around. Take care.”

  Just as Julie imagined, her mother was sitting on the front porch as she drove into the long drive. It reminded her of the years as a teen when Julie came home from her dates. Mom and Dad were always there. Smiling and waiting for her to come home safely. Now, Mom, the rock, was waiting on the porch for her to return to the safety of the big white house.

  “I’m so glad you made it, lunch is ready except for tossin’ the salad,” Karla said as she gave Julie one of her big bear hugs. “I’m so excited about you bein’ home. Your old room is ready, and if you’re lucky, it will rain tonight and you can hear it on the tin part of the roof.”

  Julie hugged her mother back and grinned. She had forgotten about the year her dad had replaced the old tin roof with the shingles and she couldn’t sleep when it rained. He went onto the house just above her room and tacked on a big piece of tin so Julie could hear the rain again. She was six years old when he did that, and it was still there. “Let’s eat, and I’ll unload the truck later. It’s good to be home.”

  They went inside arm-in-arm. At the dining room they parted ways, Julie headed for the bathroom and Karla for the kitchen to toss the salad. Just as Julie finished washing her hands, Karla called from the kitchen, “It’s on the table. I’ll say the prayer, got bread, got meat, it’s gettin’ late, let’s eat.” They both laughed and sat down in their old places. They were almost finished eating when Karla said, “Oh, by-the-way, Julie, I didn’t know you knew my friend, Chance Lightning.”

  “I don’t; I’ve never heard of him.”

  “Well, you got a letter from him so I thought you told him you were coming home.”

  “You know someone named Chance Lightning? Do people really have names like that?”

  “He’s an attorney. Moved here about ten or twelve years ago, nice young man. Single too. He came here from up around Ponca City. But I know he went to Harvard Law School. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. I was hopin’ you two had met at college, maybe. Boy, is he a looker!”

  “Forget it, Mom. I never met the guy. He must have read some of the book reviews and wants to be my attorney. Those kinds of guys are a dime a dozen.”

  “I don’t think so, Julie. Chance has a prosperous law practice goin’; He does estate plannin’, wills, and trust fund type stuff. He’s not the ambulance chasin’ type. I think he’d sooner die than ask for business from anyone. He sits quietly in his office and lets people come to him. He’s a great fundraiser, too. He and I worked together on Run for The Children. It’s a fundraiser for victims of child abuse. We raised thirty thousand dollars, most of it he raised or donated from his own bank account.”

  “If you know him so well, why don’t you already know why I would get a letter from him? When did I get it and where is it? I think you told him to write to me, you little match maker.”

  “I did not, now finish your lunch, and I’ll go find the letter. It just came this mornin’. I swear I had nothin’ to do with it.”

  Julie smiled and took a bite of the best fried okra in the world. She was finishing the last bite of pork chop when Karla came back with the mail and handed Julie the letter. Casually, with her butter knife, Julie slit open the envelope and took out the contents. She read it slowly and looked up at her mother. “This makes no sense to me. I must be the wrong Julie Stockton. It says here that someone named Essie Grogan has left me something in her will, and I need to go to the office of Chance Lightning on May 12th at 10:00 a.m. That’s tomorrow so I’d better call Mr. Lightning and inform him of his mistake before the real Julie Stockton misses out on her inheritance.”

  Karla’s face turned white as a ghost. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her hands began to shake. “It’s no mistake, Julie. Essie meant for you to have somethin’. I’m sorry; I knew she was sick, but I didn’t know she had passed away. I have always planned to tell you about her. I just never wanted your fairy-tal
e life to be anything else.”

  “Mom, I’m a big girl now, will you please tell me what’s going on? Do we have skeletons in the closet?”

  “Not any great big ones. It’s just so hard to know where to begin… You see, I met Essie just after we moved to McAlester. She was a single mom with one son who was in high school. Larry was just three months old when his dad was killed in World War II. Essie kept to herself and raised Larry on Veterans’ checks. She never worked outside the home, as I recall. I met her when Larry was fifteen and wantin’ to mow lawns to earn money for a car. She took him around town in their old pickup truck. When he got a lawn to mow, she helped him unload his mower and gasoline and picked him up after a while. She was very nice and friendly, always smilin’. She said she wanted her son to know the value of a dollar. We all suspected that he needed to earn money to help her with livin’ expenses. Essie was a very proud person and lived in that big old house that was obviously too large for just the two of them. Everybody thinks she kept it because her husband bought it just before he was drafted.”

  “What does this have to do with us?”

  "I’m gettin’ there, it’s hard for me, and nobody ever knew this, except your father and Essie. Anyway, when Larry was a senior in high school, he dated a pretty girl whose dad was a local banker. They wanted to get married after graduation but the girl’s father wouldn’t hear of it. Essie’s boy, he said, was not the type of boy he wanted for his son-in-law. So, they cooked up a plan to get pregnant so her father would make them marry. She did become pregnant but her parents forbid Larry to see her and sent her off to a private home for unwed mothers. Larry joined the Air Force, thinking that they would see how he could make a good father and husband. Just after he finished his tech trainin,’ he was killed in a freak helicopter crash. Essie was devastated and tried to adopt the baby. She had no one else left in her life.