Elisabeth walked around the room, stopping to take a closer look at the only painting done in hues of grey.  The painting was signed in red, and the signature looked familiar.  She had seen the signature before, at the lawyers’ office.  Walking through the room, from one painting to another, she realized that the landscapes were of the bay outside.  It was almost the view from the restaurant, but not quiet.  The paintings were dated over a thirty year period.  Elisabeth marveled at the changing perspective of the same vista.  She migrated toward the back of the restaurant and through the double doors which led to the kitchen. 

            The kitchen was almost larger than the dinning room.  It was laid out in an orderly fashion, and very tidy.  Most of the racks, where food must have once been stored, were empty.  There was a wire wrack with empty vases and glass globes with candles.  A large walk-in freezer, which was still running, was in the back of the room, next to an ice machine which was full of ice.  Elisabeth opened the freezer and spotted a few food items, as well as a chair, which she found curios.  There was another more comfortable looking chair outside of the freezer, pushed almost out of sight.  It was an overstuffed, leather recliner, with an indented seat and worn headrest.  A wool blanket was laid over the back, of the chair, which Elisabeth wondered about, given the heat she imagined in the kitchen when it was awake.

            There was a locked door in the kitchen, which Elisabeth knew led upstairs to the apartment.  She looked through the keys she had been given, trying several before gaining access to the dark stairwell.  As she climbed the steps, for the second time, in her life, she could not help but think about the new life she was starting, in the home of someone she had not known existed only three months before. 

            Elisabeth had come home one evening, from a long day of catering to over privileged high school girls, and decided to open a letter, from a law firm in San Francisco, which had arrived the week before and still sat unopened.  It was a bad habit, but Elisabeth often left mail unopened if she thought the letter may contain either good or bad news.  She was indifferent to the water or electric bill and would open them when they arrived; but what might appear to be a personal letter or card could sit for a month before she would open it.   A letter from a law firm could not be good, and not being in the mood to read something unpleasant, she had propped the letter up, on the napkin holder, in the kitchen.  She had starred at the letter, over her morning coffee and evening meal for at least a week, trying to figure out what affairs she might have in San Francisco.  Nothing came to mind, but frustrated with the cold, dreary day, Elisabeth decided the news in the letter could not be worse than the stack of essays she had to grade. 

            Elisabeth read the letter several times, trying to understand what it meant.  Who was this uncle which the letter spoke of?  There was no one left to call to ask.  Her grandparents had long ago passed away, as had her mother, father, and his siblings.  She left the kitchen and went into the study to retrieve several old photo albums which had come into her possession when she closed her grandmother’s house.  Her father had never mentioned another uncle, at least not that she could now recall.  There were blank spaces on the black pages, where tabs were left, which Elisabeth imagined might have once contained pictures of the missing uncle.    

            Elisabeth called the number listed on the letter, and spoke to a very nice secretary who took her number, offering no information, but promising that Mr. McCall would phone her back, which he did.

            “Ms. Jones, I am sorry but it is not customary to address these matters on the phone.   The estate involves a piece of real estate, as well as cash and securities, and personal property.  We are happy to make all of the travel arrangements for you.  When do you think you could come to San Francisco?”  That had been the sum total of what Mr. McCall had been willing to say over the phone.

            With little hesitation, Elisabeth had decided to take a few days off of school, and fly out to meet Mr. McCall, which was what she did.  Her flight was met by a limousine driver, holding a sign which said Elisabeth Jones.  The driver had taken her downtown to the hotel, on Market Street, which the secretary had booked. 

            “I will be back for you at 3 o’clock, to take you to Mr. McCall’s office.”  The limousine driver said politely, as he handed Elisabeth his card.  “If you need anything before then, you can just call me.  My name is Norman and I am at your service.”

            “Thank you Norman, I appreciate it.”  Elisabeth took the card, tucked it away, in her purse and headed to the desk where Norman had left her luggage.  She checked in, and went to her room, which was actually a very nice suite with a view of the city and the bay.  Elisabeth was tired, but too excited to even think of sleeping.  There was half of a peanut butter sandwich, in her carry on, which she decided to eat, while she flipped through hundreds of television stations, which as at home, had nothing worth watching.  When she finished eating, she freshened up, changed her clothes and decided to go downstairs to wait for Norman.  Sitting in the lobby, for a few minutes, people watching Elisabeth took a deep breath, checked her watch, and ventured out into the world.  She had about forty minutes before Norman came back, which was enough time for a walk.  The city felt rushed, crowed, and oddly familiar; there was a nice breeze, and the sun was bright and the sky clear.  After a few blocks, Elisabeth checked her watch again, crossed the street and headed back to the hotel where she used the lobby restroom, and then found Norman, right on time. 

            Norman drove her to Mr. McCall’s office and wished her a good day, explaining that the secretary would call him when she was ready.  The offices were in a tall, impressive building that was slightly intimidating.  She had signed in with the security guard, and shown him her identification, before being allowed to approach the bay of elevators for the ride to the 24^th floor.  A receptionist had asked her to wait while Mr. Mc Call’s secretary, Julie, was called. 

Julie had that same pleasant voice which Elisabeth remembered from the phone call.  “It is a pleasure to meet you Ms. Jones.  Please accept my condolences on your uncles’ passing.  He was a fine man, and a long time client.  We were all very fond of him.”

            “Thank you.” Elisabeth said, not knowing how else to respond.

            “If you will come with me, Mr. McCall will be right with you.  You may wait in his office.  May I get you some coffee, tea, a soft drink, or a glass of water?  I could also order something to eat, if you like.”

            “Thank you, but no thank you.  I am fine truly.”  Elisabeth said, sitting down where Julie had directed her.  The office looked like expected, Elisabeth thought.  There were two walls of book cases, one of windows, and one of doors.  The double doors she had come in, as well as single doors on either side, which Elisabeth figured to be a private bath, closet, or a connection to another room.  There was a large globe, a leather sofa, with a coffee table, in front of it, and two additional chairs which formed a sitting area.  The sofa did not look comfortable enough to sit on, but Elisabeth admired the nautical themed painting behind it.  It was a peaceful seascape, dotted with bridges, buildings, and mountainous like islands.  She thought it an inviting scene.

            “Alright, Mr. McCall will be right with you, and I am just outside of this door, should you need me.”  Julie gestured to the double doors, they had come through.  The women smiled, and Julie left while Elisabeth sat down, straightening her skirt several times, and checking her hair, without the aid of a mirror.  It was not more than three or four minutes before the door opened again and a tall, slim man with blue eyes and dark brown hair entered the room.  He was wearing a navy blue suit, with a white shirt, and gold tie with small specks of color. 

            “Sorry to keep you waiting Ms. Jones, my name is Jack McCall.  We spoke on the phone a few weeks ago.”  He extended his hand, offering a firm handshake. 

            “How do you do Mr. McCall?  Please call me Elisabeth.”

            “Elisabeth, please accept my condolences on your uncles’ passing.  He was one of my first clients, and a dear friend.”  She shook her head as he spoke, and again wondered what to say.  Luckily, Jack continued to speak.  “I hope you and I will be friends, as well; and do call me Jack.”  Again, she nodded her head, starting to feel a bit tongue tied and slightly foolish; but he once again came to her rescue.  “I realize this is all slightly awkward for you, and I am aware that you most likely did not know that about Bud – your uncle William, we all called him Bud.  Nevertheless, he loved you deeply and was well aware of you.  Until your mother passed away, she had kept him informed, on your life, and afterwards it became this offices job to keep track of you.  I realize you must have a million questions.”

            “Yes, I do.”  Elisabeth finally spoke.  She started to verbalize her first question, when Jack interrupted.

            “I know this is difficult, but you will have to trust Bud, and by extension me, through this process.  He was quite specific about how he wanted everything handled, and as the executor of his will and his friend, I would very much like to honor his wishes.”

            “Yes, of course.”  Elisabeth said, sighing slightly and deciding that this odyssey would continue without a map.

            “All of Bud’s affairs have been settled.  There are no outstanding debts or obligations.  You are the sole beneficiary and the will has not and shall not be contested.  The real estate is a building in Sausalito which consist of a second story apartment, where your uncle lived, two rented shops, and a café which he ran.  All of the contents of the apartment and restaurant are to go to you as well.  There is also a substantial family trust, which should provide you with whatever cash you need to re-open the restaurant and support yourself.  The trust has an investment portfolio, which is in this file and can be reviewed when you are ready.  Oh, yes there is a car.  The keys to the car are on this ring, which also contain the building keys.  There is one caveat to the will which you need to be aware of, and you may find troubling.  In order for you to receive your inheritance, you must agree to move to Sausalito, and run the restaurant for at least one year.  During that year, I have been instructed to pay all of your expenses, including any issues which arise from your move.  Your uncles’ bedroom is locked, and shall remain that way for the year.  The apartment is quite ample.  It was originally three units which Bud had converted into one large home.  If you decide to accept the terms of the will, a year from today, everything will be turned over to you, and if you so decide you may then sell the building and dispose of your uncle’s estate, as you wish.  Again, I am sure you have many questions, but if you do not mind, what I would like to do is head toward the Ferry Terminal, and catch the next ferry for Sausalito.  I would like you to see the place, to aid in your understanding and decision making process.”  Jack stood up, and motioned toward the double doors, leaving Elisabeth little to do but follow him out, toward the elevators and down to the street where Norman was once again waiting.

            They said little during the ferry ride, which was beautiful.  Jack pointed out the bridges and Alcatraz and Angle Island.  He spoke about the history of the Bay Area and commented on the weather and earthquakes.  The half hour ride went quickly, and Elisabeth paid little attention to anything which Jack said.  When the boat docked, she walked off the gangplank, crossed the parking lot, and up the street about a half a block to the closed and empty restaurant. 

            Jack opened up the restaurant, and then stepped back, letting Elisabeth enter.  It looked then exactly as it did now.  He had entered, and closed the door behind them, taking the lead, and escorting Elisabeth to the kitchen and then upstairs through the locked door.  They walked into the apartment, and he continued to babble what Elisabeth thought were meaningless words.  After about half of an hour, he extended his hand toward her, and asked if she would like the keys.

            “What happens if I say no, if I do not want to move here and run the restaurant?”

            With his hand still extended, Jack told her it would all go to the Catholic charities.

            “Was my uncle a very religious man?”  Elisabeth asked looking for a shred of light.

            “Not at all,” Jack exclaimed laughing.  “I am certain he believed you would say yes.”

            Elisabeth alternated her gaze between Jack and the tastefully decorated room.  Her head was pounding.  It all seemed like too much to understand.  Jack still had his hand outstretched holding the keys, as she quickly tried to figure out what to do next.  What was there in Cleveland, to go back to, she thought, to herself?  Elisabeth had wed her college sweetheart, but he had been killed in car accident, before they had even thought of having children.  She loved history and art, but did not need to teach in order to appreciate either discipline.  Both her brother and sister, who had neither one been included in the will, had long ago moved away from Cleveland, with their perspective families.  Her mother, Jacqueline, had been dead for almost ten years, and her father, with whom she had always felt a divide, had passed away six months ago.  She had moved back to the family house, to take care of her father, when he was diagnosed with cancer.  It had been five years of doctor’s appointments, visiting health care professionals and arguments about treatments and quality of life.  There were friends, but they all traveled and she imagined they might welcome a holiday in Sausalito.  She tried to think of a reason to say no, but none truly came to mind, as she began to hear herself saying yes, while reaching out to take the keys. 

            Norman had met the returning ferry, and dropped Elisabeth off at her hotel.  Jack had again extended his assistance and told her to make sure and let him know when she got back to town. 

Six weeks later, as the school year came to a close, Elisabeth had headed to California.  She had taken a sabbatical from work, keeping her options open, and had basically chosen to close up her father’s house, which she now owned, instead of putting it on the market.  Closing the house had been easier than she had thought it would.  Knowing that she was going to a fully furnished apartment, she had decided only to take some clothes, books, and her computer.  The food, in the house, she had donated to the Catholic charities, thinking they should get something from this deal. 

            She sent an email to Jack’s office, letting him know her plans, and telling him that she was quite comfortable with getting herself back to Sausalito.  Nevertheless, Norman had been there to meet her plane, and offered to drive her to Sausalito, but she wanted to take the ferry, and settled for a ride to the Ferry Terminal.  Norman had been welcoming and much warmer this time, as if for some reason he was actually happy she had returned.   Now she stood in her new apartment, having all but given up on the mysteries of Bud, yet finally surrounded with tangible clues to who he had been.

This entry was posted on May 19, 2011 at 5:18 pm and is filed under From the Editor, SlideShow. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.