Chapter 25

"Just Call Me 'Your Majesty'"

WILLY ORTIZ ARRIVED WITH THE DYNASTY ABOUT TEN A.M. THE NEXT DAY. HE MUST HAVE CALLED LUTHER ON HIS WAY INTO TOWN, BECAUSE HE CAME STRAIGHT OUT HERE TO THE HOUSE. I WAS PUTTERING AROUND IN THE KITCHEN IN MY SWEATS, BREWING A POT OF COFFEE, HAULING OUT THE TOASTER FROM BENEATH THE COUNTER AND TRYING TO MAKE THE LEAST AMOUNT OF MESS AS POSSIBLE.

I HEARD THE CAR PULL INTO THE DRIVEWAY … THERE'S NO MISTAKING THE SOUND OF A K-CAR … AND I KNEW HE WAS HERE. I CLOMPED OVER TO THE DOOR AND UNLOCKED IT SO HE WOULDN'T HAVE TO DIG AROUND FOR HIS KEY.

"YOU'RE JUST IN TIME FOR COFFEE," I SAID. HE STOOD ON THE THRESHOLD WITH MY SUITCASES GRIPPED IN HIS HANDS AND A MORNING PAPER CLAMPED BETWEEN HIS TEETH. "YOU REMIND ME OF THE DOG MY MOM USED TO HAVE," I SAID. "OL' BAXTER CARRIED A NEWSPAPER THE SAME WAY YOU DO …" I FIGURED A SMARTASS REMARK WAS THE SHORTEST AVENUE OF RAPPORT BETWEEN US.

HE SET THE SUITCASES DOWN AND REMOVED THE PAPER FROM HIS MOUTH. "BETTER WATCH YOUR TONGUE THERE, HOPALONG," HE GROUSED WITH A HALF-GRIN. "I'VE BEEN DRIVING ALL NIGHT AND I DIDN'T COME OVER HERE TO BE INSULTED."

"WELL, YOU BETTER BE NICE TO THE POOR CRIPPLE, OR HE'LL HIDE YOUR FAVORITE COFFEE MUG." I HOPPED BACK AND OPENED THE DOOR ALL THE WAY SO HE COULD GET AROUND BOTH ME AND THE DOOR. "HOW WAS THE TRIP? ANY PROBLEMS?"

WILLY SHOOK HIS HEAD. "NAH. YOUR CAR IS A HOOT TO DRIVE, AND COMFORTABLE, SURPRISINGLY. IT WAS A PRETTY GOOD RUN AND I MADE DECENT TIME. AFTER I HAVE A CUP OF YOUR COFFEE, I'LL PUT YOUR SUITCASES IN YOUR ROOM AND GO OUT AND HAVE A GO AT REINSTALLING THE HAND CONTROLS. I REMOVED THEM AND PUT THEM IN THE TRUNK BECAUSE THEY WERE IN MY WAY. MY ASS ISN'T QUITE AS SKINNY AS YOURS, AND UNLIKE YOU, BOTH MY LEGS ACTUALLY WORK."

HE SMILED AND LOOKED AROUND AT THE PILES OF FURNITURE AND BOXES. "WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE MESS WE MADE OF YOUR HOUSE?"

"MY MOM ALWAYS DECORATED THE PLACE WITH CARDBOARD BOXES," I SHOT BACK. "SO IT LOOKS ABOUT THE SAME TO ME. AND IT'S NOT MY HOUSE …"

He chuckled. "So … Greg … Luther tells me the amount of your inheritance kind of knocked you on your behind. Things looking a little better this morning?" He flopped the newspaper on top of the counter and removed his jacket.

I nodded. "Mox Nix," I said. "By the time I pay all the inheritance taxes and the other stuff, I'll probably come out about even." The coffee pot clicked off and I prepared to pour us each a healthy cupful. "Actually, I've been trying not to think about it much. I'm still blown away by the bundle my folks managed to squirrel away just during my lifetime. I had no clue. And then Thomas Bell came along and about doubled it. I'm thinking the best way for me to handle the windfall is to ignore it or give most of it away …"

"I like your attitude, Greg. Sometimes when people inherit a lot of money, they go wild and end up in a peck of trouble. You sound like you're going to be okay with it."

I snorted a burst of ironic laughter and then shrugged. "I always thought that if I ever won the lottery or something, I wouldn't know how the hell to handle it. Money, per se, doesn't impress me much these days. It just bugs the hell out of me. Big money means big responsibilities. That bugs me too. But I guess I'll soon find out, won't I?"

"I guess you will." We raised our coffee cups and toasted the concept.

Luther arrived about twenty minutes later. He brought a box of donuts with him, which he placed in the middle of the counter and opened the lid. I poured him a steaming cup; ran the water for another pot. We each took a donut and stood munching earnestly.

"How'd you sleep last night, Greg? Did your leg tame down after I left?"

"Don't know if it tamed down or not. I was sleeping so soundly, I didn't notice."

"Smartass …" he grumbled.

Willy laughed out loud.

Luther reached to his inside coat pocket and pulled out a legal-size envelope, which he handed across to me.

I scowled. "What's this?"

"Take a look ..." he teased.

I lifted the flap and looked inside. It was a cashier's check in the amount of $900,000. I gulped. Couldn't help it. Both my legs wanted to buckle beneath me and I had to grab onto the counter to remain upright.

"Holy shit! Is this for real?"

They were both poised to grab me, but I recovered and got the crutches back beneath me.

"It's for real, Greg. And that's only part of it. After probate and after the estate sale … providing you still want us to arrange one … there will be a lot more. Don't forget there are two safe-deposit boxes we haven't checked yet."

I placed the check very carefully on the counter before me and continued to study it. "Oh yeah … I do want a sale. I have no use for this house or much of anything that goes with it. It's too big for one person, and I can't navigate it. Can I deposit this check in the same bank that issued it? It would seem to make the most sense."

"Absolutely. In your name only?"

"Yeah. I have no spouse … no dependents. No brothers or sisters. No parents either …"

For a few moments I was overwhelmed again. I lowered my head and looked to the side, willing my damned eyes to remain dry. I had embarrassed and humiliated myself in front of two men who had never showed me anything but friendship and support. "I'm sorry," I said. "This whole experience is kicking the hell out of me. Really sorry …"

"I hope you soon run out of apologies, man," Willy said. "You're going to fool around and make yourself sick. Here …" He shoved the half-empty doughnut box across the counter. "Have another donut! Your skinny ass could certainly use another one."

I had to laugh. Half pissed off and half grateful for his response, I picked up another donut and took a big bite of it. "Here's to bitchy cripples and smartass running backs …"

Back on track, we returned to the business of depositing the big cashiers' check.

I took myself over by the window and pulled out one of the chairs at the table. I sat down in it and laid the crutches on the floor beside me. Luther and Willy picked up our coffee cups and followed. Luther had the check in hand. He placed it and a pen before me, pulled out another chair and sat down. Across from him Willy did the same. We all looked at each other.

"Want to sign this now and request a withdrawal? I must file the probate papers, and I can stop by the bank if you'd rather not come along. I can take care of it quickly. I've had a lot of experience."

His face was anxious as he looked at me. I took a long draught of coffee and faced him squarely. "I'd like to go along with you, if that's okay. I'll wait in the car while you take care of business, but after that, I need to stop by the cemetery where my folks are buried …"

Luther's eyebrows went up and his face relaxed visibly. I'd surprised him with the request, but I also believed he was willing to accommodate me in any manner he could. In that moment a subtle change took place. We were becoming less and less lawyer and client, and more like friends. I could almost feel the shift in the air between us.

"I'd be honored to take you there, Greg. They're all together at Bluegrass Memorial Gardens where your dad was buried. You've been there before. We can leave anytime."

"I should go back to my room and change into something presentable then," I said.

As I spoke, Willy got up and walked around the island to where the two suitcases stood in the middle of the floor. "I'll take these back for you," he said. "You might want to wear something out of them."

I thanked him and clomped along behind him. He set both suitcases on the end of the bed and departed, closing the door behind him.

I changed quickly as I could and ran the beard trimmer. My leg hurt and my foot was tender. It took me a minute to put on clean socks. The fresh jeans and blue sport shirt were easier. I laced up a blue Nike sneaker on my left foot. I was ready in fifteen minutes … really fast for me!

When I returned to the kitchen, they were waiting. I signed the check and pushed it across to Luther, who looked at me like a doctor making a diagnostic. "I'm fine," I assured him.

He grunted disapproval, but did not comment. "Do you want to make a withdrawal?" He asked. "The bank will be happy to work with you. The inheritance account has been idle for over a year. Your first withdrawal as a brand new millionaire …" He chuckled and his belly wiggled.

I coughed to keep from sniggering. "Cash withdrawal, huh? How about a thousand bucks … see if they have enough to cover it …"

They both scowled at me, and Luther quickly scribbled down some figures.

Willy backed the Dynasty out around the corner so he would have room to get me into the Mercedes. I insisted that Luther ride in front so I could stretch out my leg on the back seat. He nodded quickly and opened the back door so I could slide in easily. After that was accomplished, he hefted his large body into the front beside Willy. I let a look pass between us; acknowledgement and thanks on my part and a certain air of fatherly satisfaction on his. "We aim to please," he joked. "We don't take chances with our millionaire clients, you know."

"Wonderful," I grunted sarcastically. "I'll tell your millionaire clients when I see them."

As we pulled out onto the street, Luther reached for his cell phone and called the bank. Whoever he was talking to, seemed more than enthusiastic for the call. He talked for less than a minute, and when he was finished I saw a look of satisfaction and relief spread across his face … like both emotions were having a race to see which was most happy to be there.

His business at the bank took very little time. We waited, perhaps ten or fifteen minutes until he appeared again and got back into the car. He had a paper cash envelope in his hand, plus a temporary check book and deposit slips that he handed to me over the back of the seat. "Probate papers are filed, and here is your cash, and your first check book and deposit slips. The ones with your name imprinted on them will be mailed by the end of the week. Enjoy!"

I reminded him that my residence at Mom and Dad's house was only temporary. I did not want to live in Kentucky … nothing against the commonwealth though. I didn't tell them, but I'd already settled my sights on New England.

We arrived next at Bluegrass Memorial Gardens. The area was gated, but the gates were never closed. Meticulously trimmed hedges rimmed the boundaries of the property, and a graveled roadway led between rows of grave markers, some of which dated back to the eighteenth century.

Willy drove the big car through the gates slowly, turning to the right and up a slight incline dotted with evergreens and dogwood trees. At the top of the incline he pulled the car off to the right and parked in an area that was free of obstruction. We sat and looked over the row of graves for a moment. It was silent. More silent than I would have believed. My disregard for religious ritual had nothing to do with the reverence of my companions. I kept my mouth shut and followed their example. Willy got out first. He walked around the back of the car and opened the back door where my lame leg rested on the seat. Without a word, he reached across and grasped my hand. I slid out until my foot was safely on the ground. Willy handed me the crutches and cautioned: "Be careful, Greg."

I nodded. They flanked me, one on each side as we moved slowly toward the three graves nestled in a semicircle near a tall Loblolly Pine. They fell slightly behind me as I worked my way nearer to the small headstones. Nothing fancy as far as gravestones go. No engraved Bible verses or flowers chiseled from granite. Three names, six dates and a peaceful setting for three lives lived in interesting ways.

*Love you Mom. You too Dad, even if you were mostly a pain in my ass. And Thomas Bell … she loved you, so I've got no bone to pick with you. Rest in peace …*

I stood as quietly as I could for what I thought was a respectful amount of time. Then I turned back and

stumbled across to the spot where Luther and Willy stood waiting patiently in silent respect.

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