At Witt's End (28 page)

"Swanson,” Jane responded. “Who do you think about when you hear the name Swanson?"

"That's a dumb question,” Sadie said. “Who else would I think of besides Oink Etta's love child?” Tingles spiraled through Sadie's spine. “Don't you dare think that way. There's no way Carl can be related to Ingmar. Swanson is a common name and not every Swanson is related."

"For your information Sister Superior, Ingmar is Carl's grandfather's brother. He must have been the black sheep of the family because he had an affair with our mother. I remember hearing they banished him from their lives. Ingmar owned the bank and Carl's grandfather owned the resort. After Ingmar left, the family acted like he never existed."

"I can't believe it,” Sadie said. “To think our mother had to bear the shame of being taken advantage of by a married man. At least mother got a snippet of revenge."

"I bet it was more than a snippet,” Jane said with a grin. “When folks found out what mother named us, I'm guessing Ingmar had a lot of explaining to do."

"I'm glad she had Carl's grandfather on her side. He was kind enough to offer her a job and give her a place to live. Not many men would have done that for a woman who had just given birth to twins."

Sadie wished she would have paid more attention to the man who provided them with a home after her mother found herself in dire straits. Even though Mr. Swanson was always visible around the resort while the girls were growing up, she never thought to sit down and have a serious conversation with him. A small smile crossed her lips. Mr. Swanson must have had an ulterior motive for offering their mother shelter. She hoped it had involved affection. Even if the motive was limited to a brother's revenge, Sadie was thankful Mr. Swanson made the offer.

"All these years we've thought our connection to Carl was his desire to get his hands on his grandfather's resort,” Jane said. “We're related to Carl and we didn't even know it."

Hanging on to the kitchen sink, Sadie jigged her happy dance as she said, “Can't you just imagine what he's going to say when we tell him?"

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Sadie stood at the screen door and eased it closed to keep it from slamming shut. Jane was asleep on the davenport with a pile of sympathy cards at her side and one lying open on her lap.

Sadie crossed the room and sat on the cushion next to her sister. When Jane stirred, Sadie put her arm around her and pulled her close. Jane drew in a few sharp breaths like a child after a lengthy cry.

Resting her head against Sadie, Jane said, “That sure was a nice funeral, wasn't it?"

"The best,” Sadie whispered. “He'd have been so proud to know all those people showed up to honor him."

"Yes, he would,” Jane sighed.

"I especially enjoyed the gun salute the Veterans performed to commemorate his years in the army,” Sadie said. She read two more sympathy cards before passing them to Jane. “Who was that guy who fell into the grave after he saluted you and gave you the flag?"

"I don't have a clue,” Jane said. “But I think he'd been drinking. Did you notice how out of step he was when they marched up to the grave?"

"I think he had his vest on inside out, too,” Sadie said. “All I could see were the pin portions of his medals poking through the fabric."

Jane lifted a twenty dollar bill out of one of the sympathy cards. “What kind of memoriam should we create in Mr. Bakke's honor?"

"Probably some kind of fishing contest. Maybe we could host an annual contest each winter. Ice fishing was his favorite."

"I really like that,” Jane said. “Elmer and his group from the nursing home would like that, too. Wasn't that nice of those nurses to bring the old folks to the funeral?"

Sadie leaned her head back on the davenport. “Who was that man who screamed when the gun salute went off?"

"I didn't recognize him, either,” Jane said. “That goes to show you the guys with the guns shouldn't stand behind the crowd. Nan should insist they stand in front. At least it would give people time to prepare instead of being scared to death."

Sadie reflected on the day's events. “He's gone."

"I know, dear,” Jane responded. “I was at his funeral."

"I don't mean Mr. Bakke. I mean Theo."

"He is?” Jane said. “Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure,” Sadie said. “He didn't get on the van when I went to pick them up. Neither did Lora. When we drove to the nursing home this morning, I heard them talking about someone who had taken a turn for the worse. I waited an extra half hour, but they never came out."

"You're going to have to speed up your trips with the crossers. I don't think it's appropriate to make our other guests wait just because you're toting around a bunch of dead people,” Jane said.

Sadie huffed with exasperation. “I agree. How many times have I told you we need to buy another shuttle? Why is it okay when you suggest it, but it's a dumb idea when I bring it up?"

"Because you're options are ridiculous. We need another respectable shuttle, not a used hearse."

"Why? What's wrong with that? We can convert it to seat eight people. We'll make it plush like a limo with velvet and a bar. I bet our guests would love to be picked up at the airport in a unique shuttle. I know just where we can get a good deal on a used one."

"Over my dead body,” Jane gasped.

Nan hung up the receiver and turned to face the Witt sisters. She shook her head and sank into the desk chair. “I've spent the past few days filling out loan papers with a different bank. One of the loan officers called this morning and said the papers were ready to be signed. I was going to do it this afternoon. Then, I got a call from the bank saying they'd decided to decline my loan for the mortuary land."

Nan stood and walked over to the window. “When I called him to find out why, the receptionist said he was with another client. He finally returned my call and told me I can't get the loan because I don't own the land the mortuary sits on. That means I can't use the mortuary as collateral. Their underwriter said they had to rescind the offer because he didn't realize the land the mortuary sits on and the land I'm trying to buy are one and the same."

"I thought you explained that to the loan officer,” Sadie said.

"I did, but he didn't relay that information to the underwriter.” Leaning her head back, Nan groaned, “What a mess my life has become. I must be the most naive woman in the world."

"You and our mother,” Jane said. “She was taken in by a man, too, you know."

"At least he wasn't a murderer.” Nan buried her face in her hands. “People were staring at me during the funeral. I can about imagine what they're thinking. I'm surprised I'm still getting calls to schedule funerals."

"It'll pass,” Sadie said. “They'll forget as soon as the next big scandal hits the streets."

"We're so sorry, dear.” Jane patted Nan's back. “It's been one hateful summer, hasn't it? It's hard to believe so much sorrow can pass through such a small community."

"I suppose we better get back to the cabin,” Sadie said. “We wanted to see how you were doing and tell you about our idea for Mr. Bakke's memoriam. We're glad you like it."

After ushering the sisters to the door, Nan grabbed the stack of mail Aanders had retrieved from the mailbox and paged through it. She sorted the envelopes into categories, placing the business items in one pile, her personal mail in the middle pile, and the junk mail in another. Trying to decide the category for the final envelope, she turned it over looking for the return address. The upper left hand corner was blank. There was no stamp on it, either. She turned the envelope over to see if anything was imprinted on the envelope flap. The flap was bare.

Resting her knee on one of the sofa cushions in the lobby, she slid her finger along the flap to unseal the glue. Dropping all the way onto the sofa, she pulled the contents from the envelope. She unfolded the sheet of paper. Her lips moved silently as she began to read.

My Dearest Nan,

As my time on earth has come to an end, I must admit to a grievous error.

First, you must understand my shortcomings. Over the years, an obsession with my vocation and an unfortunate marriage distorted my values and turned me into the type of man I loathe. I had every intention of approaching your father and confessing, but am now unable to do so. I realize I will never be able to make up for what I've done, but I hope with what I'm going to tell you, I can make amends.

When I was a young man, I formed a partnership with your father. His zest for life and his keen ability to formulate ideas led me to believe that with my funds backing the venture, we'd be successful beyond dreams. In the midst of our haste to grab the golden ring and move forward with our plan, your mother found out she was pregnant. Your father's attentions turned to finishing his mortuary science degree and building a life for his family.

From time to time your father wrote to inquire as to the progress of our patent application. Shamefully, I must admit I wasn't altogether truthful in my reply. I told him they rejected our idea. That was partially true. They rejected it, but asked that it be reconfigured with a few adjustments. I altered your father's original drawings and resubmitted the patent without your father's name on the application. The patent was granted and a number was issued. I then sold the rights to a medical device company and reaped the reward of your father's hard work. For that I am truly sorry.

When I graduated from law school and subsequently became a judge, I no longer harbored an urge for confession. It wasn't that I didn't feel remorse; it was the fear of losing my prominent standing in the judicial system that kept me from admitting fraud.

Upon hearing of your father's death, I attended his funeral. It was then that I realized how despicable I had been. Your father had lived a meager existence carrying on his dream and preparing his daughter to continue the legacy. Those were the exact words you used in praise of your father during the ceremony. I now see that your love for you son and the wish to continue in your father's footsteps consume you as they did your father.

My dear Nan, I truly apologize for my lack of judgment, my greed, my cowardice. I am ashamed.

Because my will stipulates bequeathal of my assets to my wife, patent ownership flows to my heirs and assigns as well. You will never realize a stipend from your father's efforts. I can, however, offer something in its place.

Please check the lower left hand corner of the top drawer of your file cabinet in your office. You will find a small black velvet bag. The contents within were given to me by an appreciative client. Cash them in. Their value is more than enough to enable you to purchase the mortuary land. Even though I deprived your father of the income he so rightfully deserved, and subsequently caused stress in your life, I ask that you accept this as a token of forgiveness.

You have been blessed with a child who will go farther than you can ever imagine. Your strength will guide you. Never doubt you are walking the correct path.

By the time you receive this, I will have gone on to my final destination.

Respectfully,

Theopholis Jamison Peter.

Nan held the letter to her chest before rereading it. Her finger traced the signature. A tear welled and landed on her hand. How could someone have done this to her father?

Standing, Nan turned the envelope over and wondered where it had come from. She walked over to the file cabinet and tugged on the top drawer. She pulled the file folders forward as far as they would go and felt along the back of the drawer. There it was. Her fingers curled around the soft bag.

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"I still can't believe it,” Jane said. “Did you verify the diamonds are legitimate?"

"Absolutely.” Nan said. “I took them to a diamond broker in St. Paul. He offered to buy them on the spot, but I got a second opinion. I sold them to the highest bidder."

Sadie sat against the back of one of the sofas. Nan, Jane, and Aanders sat on the opposing sofa in the lobby.

Aanders’ exuberance had him bouncing from a sitting position to standing at the edge of the sofa to squatting on his knees by the coffee table. When he couldn't contain himself any longer, he repeated the circuit before plopping down next to his mother.

"Mom said I can get a new bike and we're going to take a trip and I get to..."

Nan interrupted, “Settle down, young man. You're going to pop a blood vessel with all that excitement."

Squirming, he started up again. “A man left a bag of diamonds to Mom. The man cheated grampa out of lots of money and felt guilty so he gave Mom the diamonds."

Holding a hand up to silence Aanders, Nan said, “I'll tell you all about that in a few minutes. First I've got something to tell Sadie and Jane. I'm obviously in a position to purchase the mortuary land if you'd still like to sell it."

Jane looked at Sadie as her sister nodded in agreement. “Of course we'll sell it."

Sadie smiled and returned Nan's embrace as Nan hugged her in appreciation. “I'm so happy for you, dear. We both are."

"Thank you, Sadie. You don't know how relieved I am. Our future is finally secure. I'll never be able to thank you for all you've done.” Her fingers kneaded the envelope resting on her lap. “You've been part of our family ever since I can remember. I know my father would agree. I couldn't ask for better friends."

"Me either,” Aanders said. “You're like a grandmother to me. You, too, Jane."

"Tell us all about it,” Jane said. “I can't wait to hear everything."

"It's right here in this envelope.” Nan waved it in the air. Grinning, she added, “Can you imagine this letter and a tiny black bag can hold the key to someone's future?"

She pulled the letter out and unfolded it. “May I read it to you?” Seeing their nods, she added, “Aanders hasn't heard everything yet, either. I've not told him the details."