I awoke to the feeling of the sun’s rays bouncing off the lake and pouring into the beautiful  bay window of my friends home. My mouth was so dry I feared that I would blow dust from it at any moment and my head felt as if someone was tapping out their new drum solo on my temples. One day I would become wise to the idea of drinking alcohol that contained less sugar, but until then I was stuck with the grueling pain that accompanied my current morning rise.

I leaned to my side to reach for my phone. In my alcohol induced state last night I had also forgotten to put my phone on the charger. The black screen starred back at me with every push of a button. I wandered to the kitchen, half balanced, searching for the cord that would bring my device to life. I plugged in my phone and poured a glass of water while I waited. I returned to the kitchen table to attempt the buttons once again. I was rocking the Blackberry in those days and I was waiting like an addict for the little red light at the top to start blinking, denoting that someone had made an attempt to contact me. It was several minutes before I was able to satisfy my addiction and there it was, the red blinking light. I had some text messages from various people, well wishes and condolences and a few missed calls from Mimi’s land line. I checked my voicemail to find that there was one from my mom, “Dana it’s me, call me when you get this.” The time stamp showed that she had left this about an hour ago. I knew I needed to call her soon, but I opted for a few more moments of silence to breathe. I sipped my water and let my fingers run across the floral arrangement on the kitchen table. Last night I had insisted that my friend bring home an arrangement from the viewing, and here it sat. It was truly beautiful and I didn’t even know who it was from. It was an all white mixed bouquet of lilies, roses and some small budding white variety of which I was not familiar. I starred for a minute more taking in it’s beauty and then, giving up, I reached for my phone. It was no use, I now fucking loathed flowers.

My mom answered in two short rings. “Hey Mom, what’s up?” I made a valiant effort to sound much better than I felt, or probably looked.   “Nothing much here,” she replied. “But I do need you to stop at Mimi’s before you go off today. We need to discuss your legal counsel and prepare for what is left to come. I have a few names, but if you know anyone we can look those over too.” It took me a minute to formulate words, I had not thought about how the rest of this was going to play out. Here I was thinking my work last night as Nancy Drew was going to result in answers, legal counsel had not even crossed my mind. “Mom, are you sure that I have to do this? I mean Kim and I can probably make McCrabben go away on our own don’t you think?” I could hear my mom swallow hard through the phone, giving me the sensation that she was struggling with her own words. “Kim has already retained an attorney” my Mom began slowly, “and it’s not because she wants to go against you in any way, it is just what we have to do in order to get through this. She was the one who called me this morning, she felt that I would be best to try and make you understand.” I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak a word. My mind started swirling with ideas and my heart filling again with emotion. How could it all have come to this overnight? How could we have just said a goodbye to him 12 hours ago and now all be talking lawyers, retainers and who was on each side? “Fib,” my Mom started again, “Don’t be scared, and please don’t be mad. This is not what anyone wanted, but we have to act on it now that we know the play McCrabben is making; she wants everything your father had and then some.” It took me a few minutes to find my words, and when I did they came out a few octaves higher than I anticipated. “She isn’t getting shit, I won’t let her. I’ll be there soon, and I will get some more names on the way. I love you Mom.” We disconnected and I sat there starring at the little red light that continued to blink. What had just moments ago made me happy to see, was now a threatening image that seemed to bring nothing but bad news and pain.

I scrolled through my list of contacts searching all of the names to see if anything jogged a memory of a friend having spoke of an attorney before. Finally my finger stopped on the M list and I saw “Martin” written across my screen. He was an old friend of mine, who had also known my Dad. We ad played beach volleyball together a few times and he always seemed to be a decent person. To top it all off, he had recently started a company and last I had spoken to him he was working with an attorney to get all of his corporation elements together. I started a quick message and in the subject line typed “soliciting advice.” I started the message with a quick hello and apologies for having not reached out recently. Then I jumped right into it. I typed a few lines about his business and asked what he thought of his attorney. I let him know I was seeking legal counsel for my father’s estate and was hopeful to find someone who came recommended. I asked him to contact me if he had anyone in mind.

I set my phone on the table and started a pot of coffee. If I had to wake my friend from her own alcohol induced sleep, I might as well come armed with some coffee to take off the edge. I poured a fresh cup and started up the stairs to her room. As much as I had enjoyed my few minutes of peace, I had opened Pandora’s box yet again today and I was going to need a whole lot more than a little hope to cure the evils that had recently been released.

It wasn’t long before we were on the road to Mimi’s. I had received an answer from Martin expressing his condolences and providing the name and phone number of his attorney with whom he had been very satisfied, Dave Tratta. I saved the message for easy access and began a new one to my Dad’s former colleges. My Dad had this tendency to maintain a lot of his personal belongings locked inside the storage units belonging to the commercial real estate company he ran in Rochester. Being as I was not allowed to enter the house, I figured I could at least check out the units without repercussions. My Dad’s colleagues, friends really, had worked with him and for him for many years. They were like a second family to us, surely they would let me in the units to look around. Or at least they would “accidentally” leave them open on their way to lunch, whichever. I made that call first. I figured it was best to get things out of the way that might be seen as borderline illegal before I retained an attorney. I didn’t really want to hear what I “should” be doing anyways. As it was, I had followed the rules this far and all it did was get me exiled from his house and office. This time I was going to try a different approach.

I got one of the guys, Phil, on the phone. He told me that he was hopeful I would call and that McCrabben had means to obtain the keys to these units as she was part of the office staff. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she had not tried to get in them yet. I asked him to lunch and he kindly thanked me but explained he had an appointment he had to take care of on his lunch hour. He said he would be leaving from the Stoneridge Plaza around noon and would probably be gone about an hour and a half. I could pick through his words and hear what he was really telling me; he was leaving for 90 minutes and there would be no accountability for the storage units in Stoneridge at that time. I thanked Phil for his kindness and told him we would have to get lunch another day.

As I clicked off my speaker I smiled to myself. I had a bit of satisfaction knowing I was going to have an opportunity to rummage on my own for a while. The clock on the dash of my friends car read 10:18. I had just enough time to get to Mimi’s, scrub the booze from my pours and excuse myself on an errand, one I would insist to do alone. I would call Mr. Tratta when I was finished, plausible deniability was definitely going to save my ass this time.