The Pecan Man(48)

Blanche interrupted then, bringing us each a glass of sweet tea and taking a seat in one of the rockers herself. She looked tired and drawn and I couldn’t help but comment on it.

“You feeling all right, Blanche? You’re looking a little peaked today.”

“Just a little tired, tha’s all. Ain’t been sleepin’ good lately.”

“When’s the last time you had a checkup?”

“I had my yearly,” she said vaguely.

Blanche was not big on doctors, though I had convinced her a few years back that she’d best take care of her health if she was going to be raising grandchildren from now on. I had enrolled Blanche and her family in our company health plan when I first went back to work. Don’t ask why I hadn’t done it when Walter was alive or why he hadn’t suggested it, either. I just don’t have an answer.

“That’s not the kind of checkup I was talking about.”

“I don’t see the point. He’s jus’ go’n tell me to lose weight.”

Well, I knew better than to go down that road, so I just let the issue drop.

We stayed on the porch for a little while longer, enjoying the cool breeze and watching the occasional passing car.



When Patrice and I finally sat down to discuss the will weeks later, I had formulated a plan of sorts, but I wanted Patrice's thoughts on the whole thing. We talked at length about the details and, when we were done, I felt confident of the decisions I made.

Howard put me in touch with a good business broker and the insurance agency was sold within a month. I was surprised at the bottom line on the income from the sale, but Howard was not. We followed Walter's lead on a good bit of the estate planning, but we made a few changes. We increased the coffers of the scholarship fund quite a bit and set up another charitable remainder trust to offset the taxes on the sale.

What Patrice did not know about my will was that I planned to leave my house to Blanche for as long as she was alive. She probably spent as much time at this house as she had at her own, and I was certain it felt like home to her. After that, it would be sold and the proceeds sent to the scholarship fund, which Patrice had agreed to run after my death or when I could no longer handle my affairs. That was a huge load off my mind. Of course, she would now know how her own education had been funded, but I suspect she knew it all along anyway.

There was a monthly stipend earmarked for each of the twins. They were successful in their own right, but what I set out for them would make their lives a little more comfortable and it made me feel good to know that.

Grace's children would be able to attend the college of their choice. They were good kids, good students. I wanted to make sure nothing would stand in their way. Blanche would always have income, a retirement plan of sorts - enough for herself and enough to take care of Shawn and Rochelle.

As much as it tore my heart out, I did not leave anything for Grace. If we could even find her, the money would only go to drugs. I resigned myself to knowing we had already lost her. We lost her long, long ago and we were partially to blame.





Twenty Eight





As I said, 1998 was not a good year for me. My childhood friends were dropping like flies. I never expected to outlive as many people as I did, but if it's any indication how many funerals I attended, I bought four new dresses that year and all of them black. I've never been terribly vain, but I still held to a few social standards, even in my old age. I didn't want to be seen in the same black dress every time I turned around.

Poopsie died on a fishing trip out west. God love him, he went out with a bang, doing what he loved most. They had a time getting his body shipped home for burial, but Clara Jean handled all the details and got it straightened out. She was devastated, of course, and I'm not sure she's over it to this day.

The hardest thing for me, the worst day of my life, came in late November of that year. We had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner. Patrice and the twins cooked the entire meal in my kitchen and the house was brimming with food, friends, family and a whole lot of love. We all ate too much, but Blanche complained the most about it. She said she just felt full all over. Danita and Curtis drove her home afterwards, taking Shawn and Rochelle back to their own house to play with their cousins.

When Blanche didn't show up the next morning, I knew it was not good. I forced myself not to panic as I called a taxi to take me to her house. I decided not to call the children first. I didn't want to worry them in case I was wrong. On the other hand, if I was right...well, if I was right, I would be the one who found her.

She didn’t answer the door when I rang the bell, but I knew she never kept it locked. She always left it open, just in case Grace came home. I opened the door and entered the house, which had not changed much in the years since I came to take Patrice shopping. I could hear Blanche's snoring in the back bedroom and I breathed a sigh of relief. I figured she must have overslept, though she'd never done it before. I laughed at myself for overreacting and headed for her bedroom, scolding the whole way.

“Blanche, you old fool, you scared me to death!" I spoke loudly so I wouldn't startle her when I entered her room. “Blanche!" I repeated as I cleared the doorway. She was lying flat on her back, the covers kicked to the side and one arm hanging limply off the bed.

She didn't respond at all. She just laid there, air moving noisily in and out of her chest. I picked up her arm and shook it a little.