I felt the light creeping into the room around 7:00 am the following morning. What little sun that is available in Rochester, NY in January was spreading over the white linen of the bedding like butter covering a fresh piece of bread. I opened my eyes and laid for a moment, allowing all of the sensations to move to my extremities; despite the way I felt, I could tell I was alive in this moment.

I could hear the coffee spurting into the coffee pot, undoubtedly the second one by this time, and the sweet smell of buttermilk and chocolate awakened my senses to know that the one constant in life right now was being prepared in the kitchen below me; chocolate chip pancakes. Ever since I was a little girl, Mimi had always made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast after a night of sleeping at her house. Although I had outgrown the desire for them in any other setting, I was unable to resist the temptation of comfort, the smell and taste of home.

I wandered downstairs and Papa greeted me from over the top of his newspaper like he always did. I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and give some reassuring answers that I was “feeling better” today. Clearly this was not the case, I mean how does one begin to feel better after the sudden death of a parent followed by the news that a scandalous twit was going to try and fight you for the estate? “I’m better, thank you” apparently that’s how.

Making my way into the kitchen I said good morning to Mimi and assured her I had slept just fine. At this point I was becoming a master of lying and masking my emotions. The only points during the night when I wasn’t having nightmares that woke me drenched in sweat, I was turning over repeatedly in the bed, the brass frame screaming at me to settle down.

I shared coffee and pancakes with Mimi, and we talked about Texas and the weather and other distractions. I didn’t offer up any information about last’s nights meeting, and she didn’t ask. I think at that moment, it was best left unsaid.

As a meandered upstairs to do my best to dress for the day, I simultaneously sent Kim a text message “Can I come over? We need to talk.” I looked at the words a few moments while my finger hovered above the send key, was that even enough to not make it sound threatening or alarming? Text messages are funny that way. I decided that she was probably reading into things a little as I had been after the last few days and finalized the message with the tap of the send button. I had barely made it up the stairs when my phone buzzed with her reply, “sure, come on over. There are other things we have to discuss about the service.” My stomach did a flip and I felt the chocolate chip pancakes threatening their return. Shit, I had to be a part of that didn’t I? I haven;t been to many funerals, let alone planned one! Baby steps I told myself, just get dressed first.

I opened my suitcase hesitantly, barely peeking through one open eye. I didn’t actually remember packing and I was concerned with what I would find in there. I exhaled slowly as I made mental checks of all the necessities; undergarments, sweaters, jeans, dress pants, shoes. I wondered for a moment if I had someone to thank for this, because I couldn’t fathom that I had done this alone, or at all for that matter. I thought maybe my mom had helped but then I fear my suitcase would have been full of long underwear and penny loafers; but alas she would not have found that in my closet. Another mental note to thank Mom, again because my mind was so efficient I would clearly accomplish this task.

It wasn’t too long and I was ready to see Kim, or should I say face Kim because I was about to deliver the second worse news in the world. I went down to say goodbye to Mimi and Papa. Reflecting on this now I am not quite sure why they ever gave me the keys to their car in my current state. I mean, I wasn’t an excellent driver on a good day and I hadn’t seen the snow in almost a year. I guess they figured it was the easier route than picking a fight about it; or worse taking the job my friend accepted last night as the chauffeur.

Kim lived close and my drive there was quick and uneventful; luckily. I sat with her at the kitchen table over another cup of coffee. I feared this cycle of caffeine and booze would eventually catch up to me. I retold the events of the previous night to Kim, my words spurting out of my mouth in a breathless chain. I don’t know what I expected her reaction to be, I guess I hadn’t given it much thought, but what came next was truly awful to witness. It was a roller coaster of hurt and intense anger that switched roles in moments and sometimes even seconds. She cried those awful sobs that a person gets only when they have truly lost control over their physical reaction. We talked about the will and I explained that McCraben had stated she had found it. Kim needed more information and I had not asked all of the right questions last night. I decided to call her.

McCraben conveniently worked for my father and so I knew just how to get a hold of her. I rang the office and the secretary and longtime family friend put me right through to her. I spoke with McCraben with all of the politeness I could muster; which if I am being honest, was not a great deal at the moment. How could I be expected to speak even civilly with the girl responsible for so much hurt; especially Kim’s that was so evident in front of me.

Her nervous responses were clear, I could hear the shaking in her voice as if she was standing right in front of me; which luckily for her she was not. She spoke quickly and sounded panicked, not at all like the girl I met with last night. Clearly she did not have time to prepare herself for this conversation. She finally let it be known that she had the key to my Father’s safe deposit box and had retrieved the copy of the will from there the day after his death. “Spineless vulture,” I thought to myself as she went on, at least wait until the crime scene is cleared. Kim gestured to me to put her on a brief hold, and so I did; and she of course obliged to wait.

Kim explained that she wasn’t sure of all of the contents of the safe deposit box, but she was sure that Kiera’s saving bonds for her college were kept there. A monetary value exceeding, well let’s just say it was meant for Kiera’s college and that is what it would pay for. They were payable upon death to both my father and Kim and so she clearly wanted to claim them. It was clear that these did not need to be a part of the estate and should be returned to their rightful owner; seemed simple enough, but then again I guess momentarily forgot the maggot of a person I was dealing with.

I asked McCraben to meet her at the office in about an hour and we would go to the bank together to empty the rest of the box. It was strange to me how quickly and easily she agreed, but I thought it wise of her to know when to call her games.

There, easy. I was headed to meet McCraben and at least one of the issues could be solved. Kim reminded me of a florist appointment at 1:00, so I would have to be quick. Great, the florist. I loved flowers, always had; but not this way, not for this. Flowers are supposed to make people happy, what ugly fucking flowers would I pick to show the world how unhappy I was? how devastatingly sick I was over all of this? Perhaps there was a special color for that, like the color that presents itself when you vomit alluring combination of dirty martinis, and the lining of your stomach from having said liquid diet ( not that I would know or anything).

Rochester is really the biggest small town, because in another few minutes I had managed to drive myself to my father’s office; unscathed once again, but that sensation would be short lived.