When Bill's mother died in 2001, his sister came down from San Francisco. She had made several trips to see her mother during those last months of her life. The mom died right after the infamous 9/11. We were already traumatized by that event and knew that Betty's days were numbered. She had had breast cancer in 1990, had made it the traditional five years without any recurrence, but got the bad news of a new site at about five years and four months. After that we all watched as it slowly spread from one spot to another. In the end she had cancer in the lining of her lungs, her bones and her brain. It was the brain cancer that really finished her.
As Chris, Bill's older sister, was driving their father down to the little local newspaper to put in an obituary, he said something, and she pulled over to the side of the road and chewed him out. Trust me, she had her reasons. This man had been a horrible father to her for much of her life. For much of her childhood, dinner time was torture for Chris. Her father would spend much of the mealtime insulting and criticizing her. Bill had vivid memories of his sister curling up on her bed with a 'stomach ache' every night when their mother would call them down to the table. Mental and verbal abuse can be so destructive, and Christine was the recipient of abundant doses of both. In the end she was her mother's advocate and, at times, her mother's voice. But always, always, she knew she had to be her mother's champion against her father. For whatever reasons, the mom didn't stand up to the father. If her marriage went south, she would have no means to support herself. But more importantly, she was an optimistic and loving person, who just wanted to be happy and enjoy life. She had no trouble doing her part of the jobs traditionally assigned to mothers and housewives. She also headed the local fine arts council.
After the incident on the way to the newspaper, (according to Bill) the dad wanted to cut Chris out of the family trust. But the trust had become irrevocable upon the mother's death. The dad wanted to find a way around it. I knew nothing of this until the disastrous events that surrounded their father's death.
Their father died about 22 months after their mom. He just rusted out. Bill took very good care of him during that time. He spent a couple of days a week at the house, arranged for care, and eventually took over paying all his bills. His dad would not allow us to touch or dispose of anything in the house while he was alive. We honored that wish. During that time Chris told me that if she were to somehow die, she didn't want her father to see her. Not dead. Not alive. She resented the father he had been to her and the husband he had been to her mother. There are stories but I won't go into them here.
Upon the dad's death, Chris came down again. Bill said he didn't want to split up the belongings with his sister because he was afraid they might 'get into it'. Would I pack up the house with her? He would come in on days when Chris wasn't there and put orange tape on things he wanted for himself. She would put pink tape on things she wanted. She and I would clean out the possessions and leave out items for an estate sale. We contracted with a woman who ran estate sales. That part went fairly well. Every Friday evening when I arrived at the house, I was relieved at the sparse number of orange-taped items I found. We had enough of our own 'stuff' at home but I didn't want to deny Bill access to items that might have sentimental value to him. Unfortunately, on the final Friday I was greeted with a flurry of orange-taped 'treasures' and sank with disappointment.
Chris will admit she's a hoarder. She's not proud of it but she has managed to accept this about herself. Her home is one of those places where you have to follow paths through piles of old newspapers, she frequent thrift stores and purchases things for no apparent reason, she has clothes hanging in her shower, and her oven is filled with packages. Where she showers and how she bakes is a mystery to me. There were lots of pink-taped items as well. It was up to her to take her things back up to San Francisco.
When the parents' bank accounts were emptied and the estate finished, both Chris and Bill agreed that they both trusted me to be in charge of all the funds. I opened a checking account at a nearby bank and deposited all the money.
As all this came to a close, Bill said that Chris wanted to give him some money from the estate for having managed their dad's care for the last two years. I asked him how much and he said he wanted Chris to tell him how much she wanted to give him. Chris asked me how much he wanted. I didn't know. I would ask him again and I would get a sort of 'let's see what she'll offer me' response. She said she didn't know. She asked me how much I thought he wanted. And this is where I stepped in it. Using my logic, I thought that maybe $1000 a month would be fair. But that was MY way of thinking. On my recommendation, Chris offered him $20,000 - $25,000. I guess that wasn't enough. Apparently, not nearly enough.
Bill and I agreed he wouldn't come to my classroom to talk about business. I had to finally insist on that in 2000 after years of trying to 'deal' with him while managing masses of five-year-olds. I couldn't give my full attention to anything when I was on the job. But a day or two after Chris made her 'offer', Bill appeared in my classroom and slapped an official-looking paper on my desk. It was a notarized contract between Bill and his dad paying Bill $75,000 for the 'excellent care' Bill gave the dad during the last two years of his life. Remember now, I had been entrusted with all the proceeds from the estate. I was doling out the monies to these siblings who had, at times, a tempestuous relationship. But they both trusted me. So, there I was, staring at a notarized contract (while wrangling 20+ kindergarteners). I felt I had been set up. But this was my husband. I felt I was over a barrel. In retrospect, I realized this was a crucial moment that I didn't handle the best way for all involved. In a different world,----or should I say if I had to do it all over again--- I should have told him what he could do with his notarized contract, let him sue my ass, and ended the marriage. That is, I should have called his bluff. But I was at WORK! How clever a move was that? Bill knew EXACTLY what he was doing. He bullied me into writing a check. I did. And the result was complete alienation from his sister for the next eight years. She hired a lawyer to settle the estate with Bill. She didn't see or answer or contact us. She moved. Laura's high school graduation announcement was returned to sender. She was lost to us.
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