Maggie glances at me in confusion, and I recognize the heavy feeling that settles in the bottom of my stomach. It’s foreboding. I look at the ceiling and quietly think,You couldn’t have made this easy on me, could you, man?
“I’m to understand you have a mausoleum on a piece of private property?” Toussaint lifts an eyebrow that’s a shade or two lighter than his hair.
“I do.” I nod. “After my father died, my mother petitioned the Louisiana Cemetery Board and had a small patch of our family land rezoned as a graveyard.”
Maggie wrinkles her nose. “Cash wanted to be buried in your family tomb?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “He wanted a Viking funeral, remember?”
“Oh sweet Lord.” Her hand covers her mouth.
Toussaint’s brow wrinkles. “I feel it’s my duty as an attorney to advise you that our great state prohibits the burial of human remains anywhere but in an established cemetery.”
“Duly noted, sir.” I nod, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
Good God, this is so like Cash. A pain in the rear even after he’s gone.
“Okay, then.” Toussaint continues reading. “‘Third, I direct that all of my just debts, last illness expenses, if any, and the cost of the administration of my estate be paid out of the assets of my estate as soon after my demise as may be practicable. Fourth, I direct that all inheritance, estate, transfer, succession, and other death taxes and duties imposed by any jurisdiction whatsoever by reason of my death be paid from the principal of my residuary estate without apportionment.’” He stops once again and peers at us over the frames of his glasses. “This is simply legalese meaning that the money in his bank accounts is to be used to pay the last of his bills and the taxes the two of you will incur from your inheritance.”
“So let me get this straight,” Maggie says. “Cash paid taxes on the money he made in life. And now that he’s dead, we have to pay taxesagainon that money? That’s double taxation!”
“That’s America,” Toussaint counters.
I barely pay attention to their back-and-forth. I’m too hung up on the wordinheritance.I hadn’t actually thought about Cash leaving us his possessions. Which seems silly, since I knew we were coming here for a reading of his will. I guess I just thought…
Hell, I don’t know what I thought. But I know what Ithink.The wordinheritanceseems so final. Soofficial.
Cash Armstrong is dead.
No matter how many times I say it to myself, it still has the ability to catch me by surprise. (And leave me reeling with grief.) I have to swallow down the lump in my throat or risk choking on it.
“‘Sixth, I give all my tangible personal property, including the Creole cottage and all of its contents located on Orleans Avenue, New Orleans, to Lucien Dubois and Magnolia Carter equally. It was a labor of love for the two most important people in my life, and it is my hope that they live long and happy lives there together.’”
Those last few words seem to hang in the air and vibrate like a struck tuning fork.
Maggie turns to me, her mouth hanging open. “He knew about us?”
Of course he did. In the month or so before his death, we weren’t exactly James Bond-covert in our feelings for each other. Then a thought occurs, and I look at Toussaint. “How long ago did he add that part you just read?”
“About leaving the cottage to y’all?” he asks, and I nod. “It was there on day one. Like I said, he purchased the house and then came to see me to make sure it would go to you and Miss Carter. His father—” He shakes his head. “Pardon me. Hissperm donorwas alive at the time, and he didn’t want the cottage going tohim.”
“But that last line. About me and Maggie May living long and happy lives there together. When did he addthat?”
Toussaint looks confused. “Like I said, on day one.”
I sit back in my chair, stunned. My mind races through everything Cash ever said since we came back to New Orleans, everything he ever did. In a blinding flash, it all becomes clear.
“That was his plan all along,” I say, watching tears stream down Maggie’s cheeks. “He came back here to bring us together.”
Chapter Ninety-one
______________________________________
Maggie
Everything that has a beginning also has an ending. Make your peace with that, and all will be well.
Someone posted that on their Instagram feed this morning. You know what I’m talking about, right? Those little graphics with the words printed in bold type across a background picture of a sunset or a starlit sky or a mountaintop?
