Chapter 5 - The Morning Notice
The morninglightoverMountKiscoin lateNovemberdoesnotbringwarmth;it arrivesasa flatsheetof graytin,exposingthe blackbranchesandthe slushyresidueof the night’ssleet.
By eighto'clock,the hospitalroomhadfilledwiththe clinicalbusinessof post-partummisery.The IVpumpwaschirping;my bloodpressurewasbeingloggedeveryfortyminutes;andan electricbreastpumpwasthrummingrhythmicallyon the bedsidecart,its clearplasticflangesdrawingoff tiny,preciousstreamsof goldfrommy sorebreasts.
A heavytapknockedat the door.It openedbeforeI couldanswerto reveala manin a darkcamel-haircoat,holdingan expansiveleatherbriefcase.It wasn'tDaniel.
It wasArthurPennington.He hadthe kindof facecommonto ruralestateattorneyswhohadsurvivedsixeconomicrecessions:skinlikea walnut,eyesthat lookedoverthe topsof goldhalf-moonbifocals,andslow,ploddingstepsas if everyroomhe enteredwasa court-housecorridorin 1974.Behindhimwalkeda youngmanwitha broadshoulderscarryinga blueplasticsleeveof blueprints.
“Mrs.Hollis,”Penningtontiltedhis hat,settingit carefullyuponthe radiatorgrille.“Rosemarycalledmy homeat dawn.I mustcongratulateyouon the arrivalof littleClara.A finename.A stubbornname.”
“Mr.Pennington,”I said,pullingthe hospitalblankethigherovermy gown.“I haven'thadtimeto washmy face.”
“The courtsdon'trequirea cleanfaceto confirmtitle,younglady,”heretortedgently,pullingthe singlehard-backedvisitor’schaircloserto my leftarm.“I havejustcomefromthe countyrecordsbranch.Danielwasalreadythereat seventhirty,waitingfor the clerkto openthe doors.”
My handstoppedagainstthe pumptubing.“Hewas?”
“Indeed.Hecamewithhis Manhattansecuritieslawyer,a Mr.NathanielCaldwell.It appearstheywishedto registera mastermortgageof twopointfourmilliondollarsagainstthe HollisManorparcels,securedthroughthe Bankof NovaScotia.Danielhas,as I understandfrommy sourcesat the bank,overextendedhimselfby somefourmillionon the riverfrontcondominiumprojectin Tarrytown.He neededthe Bedfordequityclearedby noonorthe syndicatorswoulddeclaredefaulton his personalguarantee.”
Penningtonslippeda pairof heavyreadingglassesoverhis earsandwithdrewtwofilestampeddocumentswithredsealsfromhis briefcase.
“Youcanimaginethe lookon Mr.Caldwell’sfacewhenthe deputyclerkshowedthemthe conveyanceHaroldexecutedin Marchof 2023.The landisn'tpartof Harold’sestate,Margaret.It neverwentthroughprobatebecausethe transferwasrecordedintervivos,subjectonlyto Rosemary’slifeestate.Danielisnotan owner.He isnotan heirto thisrealty.He is,in the coldglareof the law,an absoluteuninvitedstrangeron thoseelevenacres.”
I leanedbackagainstthe pillows.The throbbingin my lowerbodyseemedto dissipate,replacedby a steady,hummingcalm.“Whatdidhe do?”
“He becameratherunprofessional,”Penningtonslippedhis papersinto a newfolderwithdrypleasure.“He threatenedto disbarthe clerk.Thenhe threatenedto sueRosemaryfor fraud.Thenhe attemptedto claimthat Haroldwasincompetentfromthe brainmetastaseswhenhe signed.Fortunatelyforus,I tookthe precautionof havingDr.EdwardGellerfromthe neurologicalcenterat Columbiasignan affidavitof mentalcapacitytwenty-fourhoursbeforethe executionof the deed.Haroldknewexactlywhathe wasdoing.He wasdisinheritinghissonwiththe precisionof an armysurgeon.”
The doorto my roomburstopenagain.
This time,therewasno knocking.Danielsteppedinside.His eyeswereveinedwithcrimsonthreads;his tiellaycrookedagainstthe unbuttonedcollardof his shirt;andthe navywooljacketlookedwrinkled,as if he hadspentthe nightin the cabof his BMW.Behindhim,tryingto catchhis sleeve,wasa hospitalpatientadvocate,lookingalarmed.
“Daniel,youcannotbe in here!”the womanprotested.
Danielignoredher.He marchedstraightto the footof my bed,his handsslammingdownonthe whitesprunghoopswitha violentclangthat shookmy IVpole.“Maggie,whatkindof gameareyouplayingwithmy mother?”
I didn'tflinch.Sixteenhoursof beingDaniel’swifewouldhavemademe cower,lookingforwaysto softenthe blow,wonderinghowI couldrephrasethe realitiesto preservehis brittlevanity.Now,withClarasleepingtwofloorsbelowin a plasticshell,I lookedat himthe wayI lookedat a patientwitha contaminatedwound:withcareful,clinicaldisgust.
“Lower yourvoice,”I said.“Thisis an ICUrecoveryward.”
“Youput Haroldup to this,”he snarled,leaningoverthe footboarduntilthe veinsin his neckstuckout likethickropes.“Youwentdowninto that carriagehousewhileI wasworkingin the city,andyoupoisonedhis mindagainstme.Youknewthe Tarrytownloanswerecomingdue!YouknewI neededthe Bedfordequityto closethe secondphase!”
“Yourfatherknewwhatyouwere,Daniel,”I replied.My voicewasso quietthat the patientadvocatestoppedtalkingto listento the silence.“He watchedyouwalkthroughthe eastwingwithappraiserswhilehis lungsfellin onthemselves.He watchedyoupickout wallpaperwithJadePrescottsixweeksbeforehe died.”
Daniel’sfaceturnedthe grayof dirtyice.“That wasa businessconsultation.”
“Shewasin yourbedat the Delamar,Daniel,”I said.“Shewasin my chairat Thanksgivingdinner.Shewasmeasuringmy diningroomwindowsforthe draperiesyoupromisedher.”
Penningtonclearedhis throatloudly.The soundsmackedof drypaper.“Mr.Hollis.I havealreadyinformedMr.Caldwellthat anyfurthercontactwithMrs.Holliswillberespondedto by an emergencyapplicationfor a temporaryrestrainingorderunderthe domesticviolencepreventionstatute.Furthermore,I haveherein my handsan evictionnoticeaddressedto DanielHaroldHollisandallunauthorizedpartiescurrentlyoccupyingthe carriagehouseor storagebarnsat HollisManor.”
May you like
Danielstaredat the oldlawyer,thenbackat me.His handsomefacewastwisting,the smooth,marketablepatinaof the successfulBedforddeveloperpeelingawayto revealthe frantic,petulantboyHaroldhadneverbeenableto stomach.“Youcan’tevictme frommy ownchildhoodhome,Maggie.Youwouldn'tbe that cruel.”
“I’mnotcruel,Daniel,”I said,reachingoverto turnoff the breastpumpwitha dryclick.“I’mjuststopingthe charade.Youwantedauthenticity.Thisis whatit lookslike.”
