Chapter 28
Della seated herself behind her grandmother's writing desk and allowed a few moments for the remaining invitees to settle down following the unpleasantness involving Garrett Kirby before clearing her throat. Who had decided that the universal attention-getter would be the clearing of a throat? She wished she could think of a better way to segue into the next portion of the meeting, but rapping her knuckles on the desk or clapping her hands didn't appeal to her so she inevitably fell back on the tried and true method.
"I don't think I'm speaking out of turn when I say I heartily agree with Mr. Allensworth, and especially with Grandma Bitty. Some of you are aware of my penchant for a good expletive." She managed to keep a straight face as Perry choked on a chuckle, attempting to disguise it as a cough.
There was polite laughter as attention once again centered on Della. She closed the file labeled 'MILL' and opened a file marked 'HOUSE', but hardly glanced at the typed contents. "If you have concerns regarding the disposition of Milliron Corrugated shares, Mr. Brocton assures me he will be available day and night to answer questions. A stack of his business cards are in front of me on the desk."
Another titter of laughter passed through the assemblage as Hank Brocton's eyebrows shot up comically in reaction to the words 'available day and night'. Della turned and smiled sweetly at him before continuing.
"Learning that Grandmother had left her entire estate to me was a tremendous shock to say the least as I thought I had made it clear my life was going to be lived elsewhere. Trust me, being saddled with the mill, this house, and Grandmother's unfinished business was the last thing I wanted or expected. I resented what she had inexplicably done to me, and no amount of agonizing over why she had done it gave me any peace. Her written explanations were hurtful and confusing, and only served to deepen my resentment."
Della paused. Everyone she had invited to hear her out about the disposition of Katherine Street's estate sat before her in curious silence, anxious for her every word. She picked up the pencil Perry had taken from her earlier and rolled it in her fingers as a little crease of concentration appeared between her eyes. "Leaving everything to me was misguided and unfair – to me and to all of you. It caused a lot of uncertainty and as I crashed headlong into secrets that had been kept from me my entire life, all I wanted to do was run away back to Los Angeles. But someone who looks out for me and is well acquainted with my habit of running away wouldn't let me run from this. He's the reason Los Angeles is my home now, and he's also the reason I'm giving the house to my father."
There were murmurs of surprise from her audience and all eyes shifted to an urbane Perry Mason and then to Jameson Street. Della's father's arms rested on his knees, hands dangling, head bowed. He was completely motionless until abruptly raising his head. Weary grey eyes held hers for a moment in gratitude before shifting uncomfortably downward once again.
She had never known warmth and affection from her father, and consoled herself with that brief connection as the contempt in which she had held him evaporated. Accepting him for the grim, broken man he was stirred a deep sadness within her for the unhappy life he'd lived filled with women who'd used and abandoned him in one way or another. By giving him the house, she hoped to give him some semblance of self-worth.
"I have no attachment to this house, Father," she said quietly. "Keep it, sell it, or burn it to the ground. I don't care."
"Thank you," Jameson Street replied humbly, head still bowed.
Della bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. Now was not the time to get emotional about her emotionless father exhibiting a flicker of humility. She had made her decisions, and those decisions did not include any sort of reconciliation with her family. She couldn't and wouldn't allow herself to be tied to this place any longer. "When I say the house is now my father's, I mean the house, the outbuildings, and all contents contained therein, just as Grandmother handed everything to me."
"What about my jewelry?" Miranda demanded, voice pitched high with indignation, scooting forward on her chair. Peter Stanton, officially uninvited but allowed to stay after Della held a quick whispered conference with her legal advisors, reached out and tried to get her to sit back, but she slapped his hand away almost viciously. "My grandmother promised her jewelry to me. It's mine and I want it right now."
Della regarded Miranda with coldly glittering eyes. "I believe I requested that questions and comments be held until I was finished."
"I kept quiet during your sickeningly pious and noble gestures made toward your father and brother as you gave them back what was already theirs. It's time for you to stop stalling and give me back what is and has always been rightfully mine. I have better things to do today than listen to you."
"Rightfully yours, Miranda? When did you attend law school? There are four respected, experienced attorneys seated in this room who agree the jewelry you claim as yours was legally the property of my grandmother. And once the estate is probated it will belong to me to do with as I please."
"If it doesn't legally belong to you yet," Miranda replied acidly, "isn't this dog and pony show you're putting on today counting your chickens before they're hatched? There are other lawyers, you know, and I'll hire one. You shouldn't be allowed to steal someone else's property."
"Miss Allensworth," Perry said, his rich courtroom voice filling the large space of the parlor commandingly, "the estate has already been submitted for probate. Considering that you are not related to Katherine Street, were not specifically named in her will, and the only documentation regarding the jewelry in question is a legal document of sale to Mrs. Street, I doubt you would find a judge willing to grant an injunction. Why don't you sit back and allow Miss Street to continue."
"Why don't you mind your own damn business," Miranda suggested, leveling a scornful gaze at Perry. "It must gall you to no end that your girlfriend gave away the mill and the house and all you got was a lousy five percent interest. The only thing of value left is my grandmother's jewelry and I think you'd say anything to keep me from throwing a monkey wrench into your perfect little scheme. Well, I won't give up. I'll stop the probate. You'll see."
"Miranda, let it rest," her father spoke up sharply. "Esther sold her jewelry to Katherine. Your mother and I were aware of what she was doing, and we were aware of what we were doing when we stopped paying on the contract after she died."
"You said you were going to pay off the contract!" Miranda wailed.
Lawrence Allensworth shook his head. "I had no business promising to write Della a check because I don't have that kind of money. The house is mortgaged to the hilt, the car is seven years old, your mother has no jewelry, and there is virtually nothing in savings. What I did…Tony…it nearly ruined me financially…I'll probably never be able to retire. I tried to give Della a small payment and work out a plan to pay off the debt, but she refused it."
"Sh-she refused it?" Miranda sputtered in furious disbelief. "I'm not getting what belongs to me because you're a pervert and Della is greedy? Is that what you're telling me?"
"Miranda," her mother began in a tired, defeated voice. "Don't say such things. You and Larry had every advantage growing up despite your father's...indiscretion. You're an adult now, and still we tried to give you what you want. But the well is dry.
Miranda's face had gone deathly pale. "Larry and I don't have an inheritance because Daddy gave it all to his bastard son? What about his real children? Didn't you think about us at all when you made that deal with the Domenico's? How could you sell our futures like that?"
"Your father and I weren't rich back then by any means," her mother said with a catch in her voice. "We had the farm and a few thousand in savings is all. We sold the land and all the horses and gave what we could to the Domenico's to raise Tony as their own child, and to keep Daddy out of jail Grandma sold her jewelry to Katherine. You don't know the whole story, Miranda, or why I forgave him for what he'd done. He's been a good father and you need to forgive him."
"How can I possibly forgive him? I work in a bar, Mother. A bar. My hair smells like stale beer and cigarette smoke and every day some drunk gropes me because I work in a bar! That's what Daddy did to me, so don't you dare tell me to forgive him."
"So because you work in a bar you thought you could take your grandmother's jewelry out of this house?" Della asked.
Miranda whipped her head around to face Della, eyes narrowed. "You aren't any better than me just because you're a secretary and I work in a bar."
"I never said I was better than you, Miranda. Please answer my question."
"You're crazy," Miranda charged, eyes still narrowed. "Like mother like daughter."
Della sighed and calmly folded her hands in front of her on the desk top, surprised that Eve Wyman didn't register an objection to Miranda's words. "Let me rephrase the question. Miranda, when and how did you come into possession of the ruby starburst necklace and bracelet that Mr. Childers confirms should be in a box at the back of my grandmother's closet?"
"She shouldn't have kept my jewelry in her closet," Miranda replied, still refusing to answer Della's question. "If she was going to withhold it illegally from me she should have put it in a safety deposit box at the bank."
"Miss Allensworth," Jeremy Brandis began, but closed his mouth abruptly after Della shot him a frowning glance.
"Maybe she should have," Della agreed. "You've visited this house on a weekly basis practically since you were born, haven't you? With your grandmother while she was alive and then on your own after she passed away. Why did you continue to visit my grandmother, Miranda? It certainly wasn't out of any great affection."
"I can't believe how you came barreling into town with your designer clothes and smug attitude about how important you are because your boss is sort of famous," Miranda mumbled. Her eyes were now fully open and filling with panic. Her face was still pale, and beads of perspiration had formed on her forehead. She touched the back of her hand to her face as pink spots appeared high on each cheek.
"This is a Home Ec charity dress, Miranda," Della told her coldly, indicating the boldly patterned sundress. "Everything I've worn during my visit was bought right here in town. Why won't you answer my questions? Do they make you uncomfortable?"
"Just what are you accusing me of, Del? Get to the point."
"That's what I've been trying to do. Just answer my questions."
"What is it you'd like me to tell you?"
"I would like you to tell me why your grandmother's ruby starburst necklace and bracelet are no longer in this house."
Instead of answering, Miranda got to her feet and waved her arm at Della in a sweeping gesture. "You all heard her. In a room full of witnesses, including a bunch of lawyers, that woman has accused me of stealing. If that weren't bad enough, she accused me of stealing something that's mine already. How do we know the necklace and bracelet are actually missing? Just because she says they are doesn't mean it's true."
"I saw you wearing the necklace and bracelet at the club Tuesday night Miranda," Della said evenly. "How did you get them?"
"Answer the bloody question already so we can get out of here." Peter Stanton said irritably, grabbing Miranda by the arm and hauling her back into her chair. "I can't leave Marv alone behind the bar for much longer."
"Yes Miranda, answer the question," her father directed.
Miranda sat up straight in her chair. "Grandmother Katherine gave them to me. She told me I could pick out anything I wanted for my thirtieth birthday."
"No she didn't," Emmett Childers entered the conversation, shaking his head vehemently. "Katherine left a very detailed listing of her belongings. I personally assisted her with the inventory just three months ago and if I recall correctly, your birthday was two months ago. If she had decided to give you anything following that inventory, she would have contacted me."
"Well, she must have forgotten to contact you," Miranda said dismissively.
"Katherine wouldn't have forgotten," Emmett insisted.
"You can't be certain of that, Mr. Childers. She was eighty-seven years old after all."
"Even at eighty-seven my mother's mind was sharper than anyone's in this room," Jameson Street entered the fray. "You yourself commented on how she hadn't lost a step mentally. She wouldn't have forgotten something like that. And she wouldn't have given you that jewelry."
"Well she should have!" Miranda cried, gripping the arms of the velvet wing chair. "It was mine. She should have just given it to me. I wanted it, but she was so mean…if she had just given it to me she wouldn't have – " she suddenly stopped talking, eyes wide with panic.
"She wouldn't have what, Miranda?" Della prompted, exchanging a quick look with Perry so similar to looks they exchanged regularly in the courtroom.
Miranda was deeply distressed; her face flushed a dark red as she struggled to regain some semblance of composure. "She…I didn't do anything, I swear to God I didn't! She tried to follow me up the stairs."
"Oh Miranda," Della whispered.
For a moment no one said a word as the import of what Miranda was saying sunk in, and then Sarah Allensworth gave a heart-wrenching sob of utter despair and buried her face in her hands.
"She tried to follow me up the stairs," Miranda repeated dully. "She shouldn't have, not with that bad hip. She was hollering at me, and tried to hit me with her cane. I ran up the stairs to her bedroom…and I heard a thud. She was lying on the landing and I couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. I was scared and didn't know what to do. Just then Henny rang the doorbell and called out like she always does before using her key to unlock the front door. I went out the back door and snuck around to where I'd left my bike in the bushes – I can't afford a car because I work in a bar – and high-tailed it home."
Della sought Perry's hand. He leaned forward and took it with both of his. "Oh Miranda," she whispered again. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!" Miranda held her hand out to Peter imploringly. Peter rebuffed her silent plea with an expression of stunned disdain and Miranda's face crumpled in pained mortification. "Peter! It wasn't my fault! I didn't do anything."
"That's the problem, Miranda." Her father appeared to have aged ten years in ten seconds, his complexion a sickly grey, his shoulders sagging.
"But Henny was there," Miranda went on, frantic to make her case. "I knew she would take care of everything. It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds before she found Grandmother Katherine. What difference would thirty seconds have made?"
Peter jumped to his feet. "Who's going to call the cops?"
Miranda began to cry. "Peter! You can't call the police on me! I didn't do anything. I'll give Della back her precious jewelry and everything will be all right. I only wanted to borrow it for our dinner at the club and would have brought it back if Grandmother Katherine hadn't died."
Peter Stanton looked down at Miranda with loathing. "I can't believe I wasted five years of my life on you." He backed several steps away from the woman he thought one day would be his wife, once the bar made enough to support both of them. "There's a bright side to this, Miranda. You don't work in a bar any longer."
It took several minutes of Miranda's hysterical sobbing, a heated exchange with Lawrence Allensworth, and pitiful pleas from Sarah Allensworth before Peter Stanton agreed to leave the meeting but to not summon the police. Carter escorted Peter from the house and by the time he returned to the parlor, Lawrence was imploring everyone present not to involve the police since the fact was that his daughter had only acted in a cowardly, not criminal, manner.
"You can't buy yourself out of this scandal, Lawrence," Jameson pointed out. "Your wife as much as admitted you were broke."
"But he can buy himself out of the scandal," Della interjected. "I'm forgiving Esther's debt and turning her jewelry over to Sarah."
All eyes swung to where Della remained seated at her grandmother's desk and another shocked silence filled the parlor.
"Initially I intended to give it to Miranda," she continued calmly, catching Miranda's stricken look out of the corner of her eye, "but when I saw her wearing the rubies at the club I changed my mind. I want Sarah to decide when or if Miranda ever gets that jewelry."
Sarah flung her arms around her husband and hugged him joyously. "Lawrence! We can pay off the mortgage! We can sell the house and retire!"
Della sat back in her chair and indulged in a self-satisfied glance at a distraught Miranda, the traitorous friend who never really had been her friend, her suspicions appeased by this little bit of justice.
"How could you, Del?" Miranda held her hands out, palms up, imploring. "How could you turn on me like this?"
"Remarkably easily, Miranda, once I began to suspect what must have happened. Grandmother wouldn't have allowed you to borrow the jewelry, and you couldn't have snuck it out without her knowing about it, so you had to have taken it the day she had the stroke." Della sat forward and leaned her chin in her hands. "I believe you didn't do anything directly to make her fall, but I also agree with your father that not doing anything to help her after she fell was unconscionable. She treated you like her own grandchild – better than her own grandchild, and you left her lying on the floor."
"But Henny was right there, I tell you! I didn't know what to do, but I knew Henny would."
"Keep telling yourself that, Miranda, because your life-long punishment will be living with the knowledge that you left an eighty-seven year old woman lying unconscious on the floor while you ran away with a necklace and a bracelet to wear to a stupid country club dinner. The rest of your punishment is now up to your parents, and I think your mother told us what that punishment will be."
"This isn't fair! You can't do this to me. Mother, you can't take my jewelry."
"Your mother can and she will," Lawrence Allensworth told his daughter firmly. "That blasted jewelry has caused nothing but trouble and we'll be well rid of it. Now sit still so Della can finish what she has to say."
"Emmett will be placing all of Grandmother's valuables in a safety deposit box at the bank tomorrow," Della told Sarah Allensworth. "Grandma Esther's jewelry is to be included and will remain there until probate is complete. I fully expect the ruby necklace and bracelet to be returned so they can be locked up as well."
"Over my dead body," Miranda grumbled.
"So help me God Miranda, I will turn you in to the police myself," her father fumed.
"Mr. Allensworth, your daughter will have to talk to the police considering what she's told us no matter who might turn her in," Perry interpolated, "and it will be up to the district attorney whether or not to press charges. Things may go better for her if she talks to the police of her own volition."
"I'm right here," Miranda reminded them snidely. "I can hear you."
"You just received sound advice from one of the best criminal attorneys in the country free of charge, young lady," Emmett Childers said sternly, looking over the tops of his glasses. "Why don't you shove that huge chip off your shoulder and take it because every single person in this room is itching to tell the District Attorney what you did."
Miranda slumped back in the chair and stuck out her bottom lip in a peevish pout. "I'll consult my own damn attorney, thank you very much. Can we get on with this? Surely you must be almost done, Del."
Della had been sitting quietly observing, the feeling of self-satisfaction about Miranda's comeuppance fading to one of great sorrow for the disappointment Lawrence and Sarah must be feeling. She knew they were humiliated by Miranda's behavior, and hoped that Sarah would indeed sell every piece of that blasted jewelry.
She cleared her throat again, heralding in the next portion of her presentation. "There is someone here whom you all know and must be wondering why he was invited. I'm speaking, of course, about superintendent of schools, Mr. Royce Vermuelen."
Royce Vermuelen, a spare, pale, bespectacled man in his early fifties, bowed slightly at the waist in acknowledgement of his introduction.
"Trust me, Mr. Vermuelen is wondering why he was invited as well." Della hitched her chair a scant inch closer to the desk. "This may come as a surprise to all of you, but Grandmother not only left me the mill and the house, she also left me a significant amount of money."
"How much is 'significant'?" The question came from Carter, who had remained quiet since being relieved of his position as Administrative Vice President at the mill, but who now leaned forward with great interest.
Della shook her head. "I'm not going to reveal that. It doesn't matter, because I'm not going to keep it."
"What do you mean you're not going to keep it?" Carter asked incredulously, voicing the question on everyone's mind.
A peaceful, happy look settled on Della's features despite the tears welling in her eyes. "I mean Mr. Vermuelen and Junelle Barton were invited today because the money will be gifted in the name of Daniel Jameson Street as an academic scholarship program."