She’d loved having her dad around, and she hadn’t been in any hurry for him to leave.
She had to plan a funeral, she thought. There was so much to do she didn’t know where to start. She should call people, shouldn’t she? She picked up a pen to make a list, then put the pen down. Nothing could be gained by calling her father’s friends now. She would wait a couple of hours so she wouldn’t disturb their sleep. Not everyone got up at the crack of dawn like her father. She would also follow his instructions and call the attorney first, she decided. She should probably write that down somewhere so she wouldn’t forget.
There weren’t any relatives to call. The closest thing she had to family were her two best friends. Cordie could have called them from the hospital, but Regan and her husband, Alec, were in London for a conference, and Sophie and her husband, Jack, were on their honeymoon somewhere in Bermuda. Regan and Sophie loved her father almost as much as she did, and his death was going to devastate them.
The senior boys at St. Matthew’s High School were going to be upset, too. As tough and streetwise as some of them were, they all had a soft spot for her father. They liked working on cars with him and learning from him. He had also been a father figure of sorts, she thought, remembering all the times after auto class a student would ask him if he could run something past him. Though her father never mentioned it, she had a feeling he got some of them out of trouble with the law.
Her dad was too young to die. He wasn’t even fifty yet. A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t want to call anyone. That would make it real. Once she said the words, she couldn’t take them back. Cordie knew she wasn’t making a lot of sense and blamed her muddled thinking on exhaustion, so she went upstairs and got ready for bed. After she set the alarm on her cell phone, she curled up on top of her duvet cover and closed her eyes. She would sleep for two hours, then get up and do what needed to be done.
Her mind wouldn’t quiet down. She kept replaying the conversation she and her father had had in the hospital. He’d told her that her mother was alive. Cordie didn’t know how to process that information. He had also confessed that he had wasted years waiting for her to come back to him. Okay, so she had left him. No, she had left both of them. But why? Where was she now? And why had her father lied about her mother all these years? The answers were in the safe-deposit box, he’d said.
Cordie drifted off to sleep wondering what other secrets her father had had.
? ? ?
During morning Mass the priest told the congregation a beloved parishioner, Andrew Kane, had died and to please keep him in their prayers. Word quickly spread, and by noon Cordie’s home was packed with friends, business associates, clergy, neighbors, and enough food to feed the entire parish. Apparently casseroles were a hot item for mourners. She had seven of them in her kitchen by midafternoon. Thankfully, her neighbor and friend Brenda Hagerty took charge of the food, and Brenda’s husband, Tom, helped with the crowd.
Jared Newton, the family attorney, drove Cordie to the bank to go through the safe-deposit box. It was stuffed with stock certificates, bonds, and all sorts of other legal papers. There was also a long, narrow box labeled For Cordie. Jared made copies of the documents, placed them in his briefcase, and handed the copies and the small box to Cordie. Lifting the lid, she glanced inside and saw a stack of envelopes. She would go through the contents tonight when she was alone.
It had taken them less than an hour to make the trip to the bank, and when they turned the corner at the end of her block, they were stopped by the congested traffic. Cars were double-parked in front of her door, and a steady stream of people headed toward her brownstone, many carrying covered dishes. Cordie was touched by the outpouring of sympathy, but she had no idea where she was going to put everyone. The crowd already spilled out onto the steps and sidewalk.
“Your father was well loved,” Jared said. “And these people are here for you, too.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“I’ll drop you off in front and find a place to park,” he said. “Cordie, tell me what I can do to help.”
“I have to write an obituary.”
“Okay, I’ll help you with that.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
Jared was such a sweet man. He was nice looking, too, she realized. She’d known him for five years, but until this moment she had never taken the time to notice how handsome he was. He had asked her out several times, and she’d always declined. Why had she done that? The answer was quick. Because she’d been chasing a foolish dream. Her father was right. It was time for her to face reality and move on.
She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door, but she didn’t get out. She sat there thinking.
“Cordie?” Jared asked, wondering why she was hesitating.
She turned to him again. “Are you seeing anyone now?”
The question surprised him. “I was,” he said. “But it wasn’t going anywhere, so I broke it off. Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering . . . once things calm down, would you like to go to dinner or something?” She couldn’t believe she was doing this now with her life so crazy. She knew she wasn’t thinking straight, but that didn’t seem to matter. She still plunged ahead.
“Yes, I’d like that,” he replied.
Okay, she thought. Step one: Move forward.
“I’ll see you inside,” she said. “I have to make a couple of calls first.”
It took her a good fifteen minutes to make her way upstairs. Her father’s poker friends were sitting together at the dining room table reminiscing. She stopped to talk to each one of them, then went up to her bedroom and shut the door.
She called Regan first. Her husband answered. “Hi, Alec,” she said. “How’s the conference going?” She hadn’t meant to ask that question, but she needed time to get the reason for her call out, to find the right words. He knew something was wrong the second he heard her voice.
“What’s going on?”
She decided not to ease into it. “My father had a heart attack. He didn’t make it.”
“Oh, Cordie, I’m so sorry.”
He wanted details, and she answered each of his questions. As though she were in a trance, her voice was devoid of emotion. Alec was like a brother to her. She didn’t have to be strong with him, but his sympathy was bringing all the grief and pain to the surface again, and she couldn’t afford to lose control now.
“Regan will be back in an hour,” he said. “I’ll have her call you just as soon as—”
“No,” she blurted. “If I talk to her now, I’ll fall apart, and I have a houseful of people . . . and casseroles. Oh God, there are so many casseroles. Will you call Sophie for me? Please.”
“Yes, of course I will,” he said. “What else can I do?”
“That’s all for now.”
“Regan and I are going to help you get through this. We’ll be on the next flight out of here.”
After ending the call, she went to her bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. There was so much to do before she could sit down and take a breath. She descended the stairs and immediately was surrounded by a throng of sympathetic faces. Cordie realized all the offers of help were given with good intentions, and she appreciated each and every one of them, but there were some things she needed to do alone. She had a three o’clock appointment at the funeral home. She eased her way through the crowd so that she could sneak out the back door without anyone noticing or insisting on accompanying her.