Bed of Rose's Ch. 03

"But I don't want half! This is my house! She abandoned it. She left . . ." Rose's nerve was cracking. Charlotte went to wrap her arm around her lover, but Rose wouldn't have any of it. For the first time since she had seen the beautiful young woman, Rose didn't want to be touched by her. She didn't want to be touched at all. And Charlotte looked almost physically pained by the rejection. "This isn't fair. I did everything right. I paid the property taxes. I supported myself. She's a deadbeat bitch, but she might take away my home?" Rose turned and punched her heavy boxing bag as hard as she could. She landed a number of heavy swings before she lost all her form and just started wailing on it. Charlotte didn't know what to do. She saw her lover losing control right before her eyes.

Finally, Rose took a very sloppy swing and wound up hurting her wrist. She didn't know how badly. Charlotte moved quickly and wrapped the strong young woman up, and this time Rose was too weakened to resist. She wasn't quite crying, but her eyes were definitely watering. She was somewhere between an all-consuming rage and total depression, and she couldn't quite push herself in either direction. She felt lost, and she hated that.

Charlotte just held her for a minute before finding her voice. "Dan, I need you to take her to the hospital. I have to go talk to my father."

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It was an hour before Dan dropped her back off at the house. The emergency room had been thankfully slow that evening. Rose had managed to sprain her wrist. Dan offered to stick around, but Rose told him to leave and that she would be all right. Charlotte was apparently still at her parent's, so Rose just wandered around the place that had been both her home and livelihood for many years. It was strange to think it might not be hers much longer. Even if she got half of her father's "legacy" and was able to put a down payment on a new place, it wouldn't be the same. She looked around. She was able to smile a little bit as she remembered all the places in that house she and Charlotte had made love. There were quite a few of them. All over the cellar, the workout bench, the floor, the office desk, the front porch, the garage . . . She wandered outside and stared out towards the little clearing where she had spend so many moments looking down at the soccer fields, watching a beautiful girl with pigtails playing goalie. She suddenly wished she hadn't shunned her lover earlier. She might be the only thing worthwhile she got out of this.

She saw a car pulling up the drive. It was Mr. Webb's Jaguar. She was surprised Charlotte had managed to get him to drive out at such a late hour. She was more surprised when Charlotte's mother got out. Rose didn't know how to react. She and Annabel Webb hadn't spoken directly since that fateful dinner gathering. Rose stood on the porch and faced the three of them, feeling very much like she was about to participate in a high-noon shootout. Then Charlotte saw the cast around Rose's wrist, and she rushed to the redhead's side.

"What happened? How bad is it? Are you going to need surgery? How much . . ."

Rose actually managed a chuckle. This little sexual dynamo still acted like a child from time to time, which is one of the things Rose thought was so adorable. "No, no surgery. It's just a sprain. I'll be fine."

"I'd hate to see what the OTHER guy looks like," joked Mr. Webb. Then a serious look crossed his face. "You didn't hit your mother, did you?"

"Call her Beatrice please. I'm not really happy with thinking of her as being related to me. But no, I didn't. I was tempted though."

"Listen, we're here to help," he said with a sideways glance at his wife. "But we're going to need see all records you have regarding the house. Tax stuff, receipts . . . anything your father left here."

"It's in the back of the house. There's a closet I usually keep locked."

"I know the one," said Charlotte meekly.

Rose looked at the young woman and gave her the warmest smile she could. She hoped the girl would accept her unspoken apology. Charlotte blushed.

"There are a couple of filing cabinets in there. Both of them are locked too. The top drawer in the one on the left has all the paperwork that was left here when my father left, and the drawer below it is where I've kept all financial records regarding the property." She had to reach her good hand around to fish for her key ring. She felt horribly clumsy as she managed to get them out of her pocket just to drop them on the ground. She reached down and picked them up with a trembling hand. Charlotte grabbed her hand and held it steady.

"Dad," she said, "why don't we go get those files?"

"Good idea."

The two of them went inside, leaving Rose alone with Annabel Webb. She almost couldn't stand to look at the woman, but the silence was almost unbearable. "You must be loving this," she said, staring at her feet. "You must be thinking, ‘That impudent little girl sure is getting what's coming her.' Go ahead. Take your best shot."

"I'm sorry." Mrs. Webb was looking right at her when Rose finally met her gaze. "And I mean it this time."

Rose was suspicious. "I don't get it. This is your opportunity. You've been looking to put me down since I first starting seeing your daughter."

"Yes, indeed I was. But sometimes it only takes one thing to clear someone's head." The older woman paused, trying to figure out where to begin. "I love my daughter, I hope you know." Rose nodded. That had never really been a question. "But I don't think you know exactly how precious she is to us. Jon and I always wanted a family. Actually, we wanted a big family. But try as we might, we just couldn't seem to conceive. Then, out of the blue, I was pregnant with Charlotte. She's been our whole world since the day she was born."

Rose had a look of incredulity on her face. This woman who had shown nothing but contempt to her seemed to be leveling with her, but that hostility from before was completely absent.

Mrs. Webb continued. "She was a miracle, and we've only wanted the best for her. Her father and I hoped, like all parents do I suppose, for her to find a nice man who would love her, protect her and provide for her. Well, I don't think she really needs someone to provide for her. Once she becomes a doctor, she can provide for herself. But I think you've shown you are capable of protecting her as well as any man could. And I was finally forced to accept that you seem to genuinely love her." She sighed, and a bit of anger returned to her face. But it didn't seem to be directed at Rose. "But when my daughter came home crying and told us about what your . . . about what Beatrice was trying to do, it offended every ideal I hold dear. I see having and raising a child as a privilege that I had to fight for, and to see anyone treat their child the way you've been treated is an abomination." She actually seemed furious when she said that. It was nice for Rose not to be the target of her anger that time. "I may not be all that fond of your vocation or lifestyle, but that's my right as a mother. What I don't have the right to do is tell my daughter who she can fall in love with." That sentiment brought Rose a smile, then Mrs. Webb went on. "And you are, by all accounts, a kind, decent person who has worked too hard to have that woman take away things that are rightfully yours." Annabel Webb was smiling, seemingly enjoying making peace with Rose and herself. She glanced toward the door that her husband and child had gone through. "I would hear them, you know. Charlotte and Jon would talk about you two got together and about all the places she wanted to go with you and all your un-ladylike obsessions. But they would always talk when they thought I couldn't hear. I realized that I was missing out on a large part of my daughter's life, and I had no one to blame but myself. I don't want to miss out on anything anymore." She chuckled to herself. "Besides, it isn't like my parent's were thrilled about all of my life choices when I was younger. When I met Jon, we were at Woodstock and we were both stoned out of our minds. I think we were dating for three days before I found out what his name was."

Rose just stared at her. Then she fell down laughing. She was picturing two people in well-pressed business suits with joints hanging out of their mouths rocking to a Jimi Hendrix tune or grooving to the Grateful Dead.

"What," said Mrs. Webb, looking a little bashful. "You didn't think we were always so straight-laced, did you?"

"Char . . . Charlotte said you used to be hippies, but . . . Damn!"

Mrs. Annabel Webb started laughing herself, sitting on the porch and clutching her sides. Just then, Charlotte and Mr. Webb came out. They looked surprised, as if they were expecting a massacre and finding a circus. Charlotte was so happy she almost glowed. This is what she had wanted from the beginning. She moved forward and helped her injured girlfriend back to her feet. Rose had needed that laugh. Jon handed a pile of files to his wife, who suddenly resumed her normal, business-like demeanor.

"We'll look over all this stuff tonight. Since this Beatrice woman seems to be only interested in the money, she'll want to avoid a lengthy set of proceedings. I wouldn't be surprised if you heard from her as early as tomorrow. So get some rest, and don't meet with her or her lawyer . . . What was her lawyer's name?"

"Robert Jones, I think."

"I know the man. Little weasel. Anyway, don't agree to any meetings until you talk to us. I'll cancel my appointments for tomorrow so I can be ready whenever they call." She looked at her daughter. "Can I assume you'll be staying here tonight." She paused, then added, "AGAIN?"

Charlotte blushed. "Well, she's hurt and all. I can't just leave here like this."

"Of course you can't dear." She kissed Charlotte on the forehead. "Well, your father was right about one thing. At least you won't be getting pregnant before you graduate from medical school."

"MOM!" Charlotte was so embarrassed she actually turned red from head to toe. Rose just found something else to look at, decided that a particular tree in her driveway was incredibly fascinating. Charlotte's parents got back in their car without further incident and headed home.

Rose turned to Charlotte and hugged her and kissed her.

"Thank you. What brought this on?"

"I'm sorry I turned away from you earlier. I . . . I'm just . . ."

Charlotte silenced her by kissing her back. "Just don't do it again, okay sweets?"

"Never. Would it help me out if I told you I loved you again?"

Charlotte might as well have been painted red for all the blushing she had been doing. "It just might."

"Well then, I love you. Again." The two girls went inside and downstairs, where they fell asleep on the couch.

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Just as Mrs. Webb had predicted, Rose received a call from her mother's attorney early the next morning, insisting on meeting immediately. Charlotte got her mother on her cell phone and helped negotiate on behalf of Rose. Then the strange three-way call was over.

"So, did your folks figure anything out?"

"My mom was being strangely coy, so I think she may have something up her sleeve. She did say she needed to make a stop, but she'll meet us at that guy's office. She insists on representing you personally." The blonde girl hugged Rose. "I'm so happy you two are friends now. It was driving me crazy having the two most important women in my life fighting."

"Well, friends may still be a bit off, but I don't think we're enemies anymore. So, what do you wear for things like this?" After ignoring most of Charlotte's suggestions because they involved thongs and leather, she got dressed and the two of them headed to the law offices of Robert Jones. They waited in the parking lot for Mrs. Webb to arrive. Annabel had a quirky little grin on her face, but refused to explain what she had on her mind. They went inside and sat down.

"Well," said Mr. Jones, "my client has produced the proof of marriage required. Barring the existence of a will, by state law Mrs. McGuire is entitled to an equal share of her former husband's estate.

"You're right," said Annabel. There was silence in the room. They had expected the top-notch lawyer to come out swinging. For a brief moment, Rose was wondering if she had been duped. "Though if we go to court, I'm sure I can the amount your client is owed reduced due to my client's personal investment in maintaining the house. But I'm sure she will be entitled to something."

Jones looked worried. He may have been a rat in a silk tie, but he knew a trap when he smelled it. "So you have no problem with getting an independent party to assess the value of the remaining belongings, house, vehicle and property to determine how much my client should be receiving?"

"Not quite." Annabel looked awfully smug, and suddenly Rose found her smile again. She sensed a great big ‘but' coming on. "But you seem to have overstepped your bounds. Your client is not entitled to any profits regarding the property itself. The house, yes, but not the property."

"Don't be absurd. If the property belonged to the late Mr. McGuire, then . . ."

"Well, it did belong to a late Mr. McGuire, but not your client's husband." She pulled out the stack of files she had gotten from Rose's filing cabinet, as well as a much newer, cleaner looking file. "While the recently deceased Charles McGuire left no will, HIS father, a Mr. Samuel McGuire did."

"What does that old freak's will have to do with this?" piped in Beatrice.

"Shut . . . your . . . mouth," said Rose coldly. Her grandfather had been a quack, but at least he had treated her like family, unlike either of her parents. Her mother sat back and stayed silent. She instinctively knew that her daughter was more than capable of kicking her fat ass.

"Actually, ma'am, it matters a great deal. While the elder Mr. McGuire's will did leave the house and some other things to his son, the rights to his property had an unusual wording. His land holdings were left to ‘his next surviving blood relative.' A tad eccentric, but his records showed him to be a little unusual."

"I'll say," started Beatrice. "The man was a . . ." Her tirade was cut off when Rose started audibly cracking the knuckles of her good hand.

"Well, your husband never actually claimed any of the property."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Apparently, because your father-in-law ‘neglected' to tell him about them. It seems your husband was seen as something of a . . . well, failure for his father. All your husband had to do was go talk to the administrator of his father's will, and he would have been told all about it. But apparently your husband was too pathetic and lazy to do that. Well, as Rose McGuire's attorney, I did just that. Charles McGuire probably thought that the house was all the inheritance he was going to get. Well, since he is no longer alive to make a claim, the rights and deeds to all Samuel McGuire's properties falls solely to his sole remaining blood relative. That would be my client, who will be finalizing HER inheritance this afternoon. And since the house and truck themselves are not in particularly good condition, the amount YOUR client can expect will be minimal. Most of the value was in the property itself, which Beatrice McGuire has NO claim to whatsoever. When you are ready to assess the value of the remaining items, let ME know. Do not contact my client directly anymore. We will work out any payment owed to your client at that time. Since it is proper for one party to accept a cash settlement equal to their share of the inheritance, that is what we will do, so there will be no need to sell the house. After the assessment, my client will pay your client the agreed amount, and formal ownership of the house will fall to her. Oh, and in the meantime, if you or your client step foot on Rose McGuire's property for any other reason than to take part in the assessment process, it will be considered trespassing and both of you will be arrested. Good day. Girls, shall we go?" Rose and Charlotte got to their feet and followed Mrs. Webb out the door. Once outside, Annabel said, "God that felt good!" Without warning, Rose caught the elder Mrs. Webb in a breathtaking hug, and Charlotte joined in as well. "I seem to be up to my armpits in young women. Now, let's go get lunch and then you can go take control of your land."

They had lunch at a ritzy, upscale restaurant where the drinks cost more than most meals Rose had ever consumed. But Mrs. Webb was apparently a favored client at that establishment, and she was picking up the tab.

Rose was confused on one issue. "I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but how am I going to make a cash offer to Beatrice? I don't have that kind of money, even if it is for just half the house and half the truck."

Mrs. Webb finished off her iced-tea. "Well, it really isn't that much. The value of the house will be minimal without the property rights. You might have to sell some of your property to . . ." She stopped when she saw that Rose was just staring at her blankly. "You really had no idea . . ."

"No idea about what?"

"Your grandfather may have been a little ‘off-his-rocker,' but he owned quite a bit of property. Did you ever wonder why no one ever tried developing the land around your house?"

"I just figured no one wanted it."

"It's near a large university. Everyone would want it. Your grandfather owned close to one hundred acres of forestland surrounding your house."

Rose almost spit her diet-Pepsi all over the table.

"And that's not all," Annabel continued, sounding obviously excited. "He also had plots of land all over the city and all across the state. He had been inheriting land from your ancestors for almost a century. Some of that acreage is in prime locations. You could sell just a couple of deeds and have enough to pay that bitch-mother of yours, open your own business and have plenty of cash left to spend. Young lady, you just became very wealthy."

Rose was stunned. Her life had taken another startling turn, and she wasn't sure how to react. So Charlotte showed her, first by hugging her tightly and then by kissing her repeatedly all over her face.

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When that evening rolled around, Rose was exhausted. She had spent all afternoon signing papers and negotiating the sale of some of her new property in the southern portion of the state. She had gone from "barely scraping by" to "rolling in dough" in the course of a day. Charlotte had gone home for a few minutes to excitedly help her mother explain the day's events to her father. Before they had gone their separate ways, Mrs. Webb had given Rose a genuinely warm hug, and gave the young woman a note that had apparently been left in the care of his attorney. He had left it for Rose, on the off chance she was able to claim his legacy to her. It was short and to the point, just the way her grandfather had liked things. She had tears in her eyes as she read it a second time.

"Dear Rose,

I'm writing this note because I realize my health is failing, and I'm not good enough with words to tell you face to face what I'm thinking. I realize you're only nine years old at the time I'm writing this, but you're smarter and wiser than your years suggest. I look at your father, who has selfishly and foolishly squandered everything in his life, and nothing more so than the delightful young girl who is his daughter. Your whole life, you've shown yourself to be a fighter and a free spirit. I remember visiting you one day after you had been sent home from school in the second grade. You had beat up a boy who had made fun of your hair. I was so proud of you, though I guess I shouldn't have encouraged you to go picking fights. But you showed more spunk in that moment than your worthless father did in his whole life. I just knew you weren't the type to lie down for anyone, and I hope that hasn't changed by the time you read this.