Part 1, May

The Mansion

His face wizened and his body shrunken from its former robustness, Sam Oliver sat in his battery-powered wheelchair at the top of the staircase above the foyer of his mansion.

Grampa always looked old to me, even if he was only fifty-three, just over half my age when he died. He had nothing, yet he had what I don’t have—a loving child, Auntie Angie, beautiful Angelina. What a portrait Botticelli could have made of her, my angel auntie.

He allowed the ancient memory to coalesce into a vivid scene, so easily realized now. There she was, kneeling at Grampa’s gnarled feet, the feet of a waiter who worked 12 hours a day, six days a week to feed his motherless family. There was the bowl of steaming water laced with Epsom salt, waiting on the floor near his bare feet. His faded pajama pants were rolled over his knobby knees, exposing long but sparse hair on his ropy legs.

Sam remembered hiding on the floor of the portable wardrobe in the bedroom Grampa and Uncle Pete shared. It smelled of moth balls and old leather, not like the sweet, powdery smells where he, his mother and Auntie Angie slept. A seven-year-old could hide here forever without being noticed.

Angie was a nurse in training. She intended to join the Army Nurse Corps. She wanted to be a good nurse, and Grampa was her most important patient until she would receive her Army assignment. Maybe she would meet daddy there, in the war.

She learned to scrape and shave bunions and calluses, and to trim ingrown toenails—all of which Grampa’s feet had. He was sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed, his chest wrapped in a brown flannel bathrobe. His feet rested on the large towel on either side of the bowl of steaming water.

Auntie Angie was still in her nurse’s whites, but had taken off the bird-like cap and had laid it next to the smelly ashtray on the table next to the wardrobe. She lifted one of Grampa’s feet and let it slide gently into the bowl of water as she talked to him. He was too tired to talk, except for a few grunts of response. She told him of the young student nurses and doctors she worked with, stories of their backgrounds—where they came from and where they wanted to go after completing their education. He listened with his eyes closed, the corners of his mouth relaxing upward. The big alarm clock on the nearby table ticked off the seconds and minutes.

After Grampa’s foot soaked long enough, Angie gently removed it from the basin and placed it on the towel. Then she placed his other foot in the basin.

The foot on the towel was mostly hard and yellow, even if part of it was pink and soft-looking from the warm water.

Grampa’s toes and toenails fascinated him. They were ugly and clumpy, some of them twisted. It was the big toe on the exposed foot that was the most repulsive. It was swollen and purple from infection caused by the nail invading the underlying flesh.

But then Auntie Angie made Grampa’s toes beautiful. With her nurse’s tools she cleaned out the accumulated dead skin under each toenail and cut the clumpy, yellow nails. She carefully pried one of her tools under the nail that bit into Grampa’s big toe and, little by little, carved the nail away until the compressed flesh released its yellow pus and small bit of bright red blood. Only then did Grampa come alive with great sigh of pleasure, showing how painful it must have been. 

Angie then attended Grampa’s other foot. When she was done he leaned toward Angie, took her head in his cigarette-stained fingers, kissed her forehead and said, simply, “Angelina,” in his melodious Mediterranean accent, made rough by tobacco smoke. 

Then the image changed. Sam had now taken Grampa’s place and there was an angelic face near his knees, looking at him with love and saying pleasant things.

The reverie vanished as his nose twitched to the acrid odor of burnt cheese rising from the endless procession of frozen pizzas into and out of the large microwave oven in the kitchen at the far end of the building. It wasn’t as bad, at least, as the awful smell of overheated butter and popcorn that had earlier invaded his room.

The children have finally outlasted the weak discipline of the adults. He pondered whether he was chuckling or grumbling, but couldn’t decide.

He had lost track of the numbers of grandchildren, grand-nieces and –nephews, and now the following generation. He could evict them and their parents, of course, but despite all their carelessness and thoughtlessness and selfishness, he couldn’t bring himself to deny them the unearned benefits of being his relatives.

“Perhaps there’s one among them,” he said aloud, a phrase he had, until recently, only given thought to, countless times.

He was grateful he could not hear the racket below, which he could easily imagine. He rarely turned on his hearing aids. 

He wheeled his chair around, past the elevator, to return to his room. He was expecting Diana, his “chief of staff,” as he thought of her, and wanted to be prepared.

He lived in an apartment that extended across half the second floor of the three-story building. It had the amenities and services necessary for a couple with two children to live in comfortably. This was what it was originally designed for—a place where one of his children or, after his two sisters died, one of his nephews or nieces and their families could live. There were other such apartments in the mansion and in the attached addition where the servants and the single relatives lived.

Five of these apartments were occupied. The oldest offspring had fled the internecine warfare that physical closeness invited, having finally garnered all they could of his fortune, short of what they were to be bequeathed upon his death—and when, by God, was he ever going to die? He knew they said this, or something like it.

“I won’t give them the satisfaction,” he said under his breath.

     Diana wasn’t due for an hour. His preparations were merely to pass a damp cloth over his face and comb his sparse hair, having been fully bathed and dressed by his masseur before Sam went to the staircase over the foyer.

He moved his chair to the window in the living room to wait for Diana. He leaned forward to view the broad sweep of the estate—green lawns, flower and vegetable gardens, and coppices of native trees and bushes. Here is where man and nature have made a truce, a noble tension to be broken only when I finally stop breathing and others will oversee the property.

Techniques of medical science had kept his eyes clear, especially for seeing in the distance. This view was his greatest pleasure, now that his business and political victories were decades behind him.

“There are no victories in a family,” he muttered, not knowing what he really meant. He slumped back into his wheeled chair, lapsing into thoughtfulness as the hissing tinnitus in his ears provided familiar background.

The notion of “family” had confused him, always. It was like a great beast without boundaries. It had no constant shape; there was no way to control it. It threatened always to swallow you or run away from you. And, there was no one who would bathe an old man’s feet.

A sudden, unfocused view of the lower part of Diana´s dark blue business suit brought his head up. She was saying something, but he couldn’t understand. As he focused on her face she pointed to her ears, and he automatically reached behind his own to turn on his hearing aids.

“—something wrong with your feet?”

“Uh, no Diana, I was just muttering I guess.”

“Are you ready for the weekly report?”    

“Yes, yes, let’s go. Please sit down. You make me nervous standing there. Bring the chair closer—I don’t want to shout. You look wonderful, as usual, even though you are wearing pants with that suit. Don’t women wear skirts any more?”

“Most professional women wear slacks, now, Mr. Oliver. It tends to keep the men’s minds more on business…”

“… than funny business, you mean. It’s a good point, especially since there are so many women now where men used to be.”

“Do you want me to buzz Henry for something?”

“Ah, yes, some water with lime. Thank you. And tell him to get the kids out of the kitchen and clean up the mess. It must be a swamp down there. The smell has been with me all morning.”

Diana reached for a nearby walkie-talkie, one of many available everywhere in the old man’s apartment.

“Henry, it’s Miss Davies. I’m with Mr. Oliver. He would like some water with fresh lime, and a cup of black coffee for me, please. Mr. Oliver would like you to tell the children to leave the kitchen. Have them take all food outside on the patio and then ask Maude to clean the kitchen and put it off-limits for the rest of the day. Yes. Thank you.”

“Good.  Henry’s a better disciplinarian than I am. Their parents have given them no boundaries. Anything new from your end?”

“The new things are more of the old things. Franklin is getting further into debt and is getting panicky. Elizabeth has filed for divorce from Jerry…”

“I forget what number husband Jerry is.”

“… number three. And Theodore has started seeing a psychiatrist for his anxiety and depression. His AA group insisted on it.”

“Well, they’re all going have to stew in their own juices. I’m not rescuing any of them any more. Their trust fund income is enough to keep them from starving and sleeping under bridges. They can liquidate some of their assets. It’s enough for me to support their progeny, endlessly. How many are living in the house now?”

“Let me see… 18, if you don’t count the sleepovers. Most of the children are from your sisters, may they rest in peace—as they probably are doing, thanks to you. Henry seems to have the supply issues under control, but Maude is getting frazzled with all the cleanup.”

“Get her a part-time helper.”

“Part-time will mean low quality, I’m afraid. You need another live-in maid, a younger one that Maude can reasonably expect to boss and who won’t require too large a salary. I think we can find a young person from Europe who would like to do her wanderjahr or two in the USA, someone who could attend to your needs, as well. You’re not looking as natty as you like to be. Your masseur doesn’t have all the talents you need.”

“Hmph. As Captain Picard says, ‘make it so.’ Are you getting paid enough?”

“Mr. Oliver, you shouldn’t ask that of a lawyer. Your contract with the firm makes generous provision for my services.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Other than Maude and Henry, you’re the only one who is kind to me, but of course I am paying you all. Please don’t respond to that. I’m getting crankier all the time.”

“Do you want Dr. Benjamin to visit you? More often, I mean? You mentioned your feet earlier. Are they bothering you?”

“No, No. I’m all right. And I get out of my chair often enough to get properly exercised—the therapist sees to that. He’s very tough and mean, but he’s good.”

“Is the catering service on time and satisfactory?”

“Yes, yes, but of course the nutritionist won’t give me what I want. She intends to keep me alive as long as possible. Her greed knows no bounds. Come closer. You smell especially good today, Diana.”

“Don’t get fresh, Mr. Oliver, your heart might go into tachycardia again.”

“Denied everything for my own good, right?”

“It’s the way you want it, isn’t it? To keep your progeny in a state of anxious anticipation?

“You know me too well, Diana. I feel naked in front of you, and that’s not an ironic invitation to anything.”

“Here’s Henry, now.”

“Good afternoon Miss Davies.”

“Hello, Henry. How did the children take it?”

“Surprisingly well, ma’am. They seem to know what’s right—they just have to be reminded.”

“Henry, I’m thinking of getting someone to help Maude. How about you? Do you need help with the chaos of the growing horde?”

“No, sir. The regular maintenance service keeps all the major appliances and household machinery in top shape, and the handyman and landscape services handle all the other tasks, so I have a reasonable number of duties to perform.”

“You’re too damned reasonable, Henry. You’re not getting younger, either. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you taking days off?”

“Please don’t worry, sir. I am quite comfortable and you provide for me generously.”

“Hmph.”

“Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes, yes, Henry. Back to the salt mines.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you for the coffee, Henry—it’s excellent, as usual. I’ll drop by to see Maude before I go, Henry. See you later.”

“Bye, ma’am.”

     “Now, how about you, Mr. Oliver?”

“Enough about me Diana, just get that girl from Europe so Maude can grow older a little more gracefully.”

“Do you want to interview the candidates?”

“No, no, I trust you Diana. I know, I know, a lawyer takes nothing for granted—no assumptions. You want it in writing? Don’t answer that. Do you have to go now?”

“I’m afraid I have a full calendar for the rest of the day.”

“Are you going to get married one of these days? I think you should, but I don’t want to lose you. What’s wrong with men these days? You’re a beautiful woman… oh, I’m sorry for going on, and I won’t mention children, either, and how a woman hasn’t got as much time as a man…”

“Dear, dear Mr. Oliver. It’s very hard to be completely professional with you. It isn’t a question of finding a good man; it’s a question of how to balance all the good things life has to offer. Having nice clients like you is part of the equation. Now that’s enough, but thanks for your concern and your compliments.   

“OK, off to the gold mines with you.”

“I’ll have someone in place for Maude, and you, within two months. I’ll offer enough income and time off to make the opportunity compelling.”

“OK, Diana. Next week, then.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Oliver.”

Part 2

July, Two Months Later
Sam Oliver’s Sitting Room

“Mr. Oliver, this is Linn Larsson. She’s from Uppsala, Sweden.”

“Hello, I’m glad you’re here. How’s your English?”

“Thank you Mr. Oliver. I learned English in school, since I was a little girl.”

“Well, I can understand you very well, and that’s what’s important. You just let Diana, Miss Davies know what you need and she’ll get it for you”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, now you know that Maude is your boss, yes?”

“Yes, Mr. Oliver, and I am to help you with any of your needs, too. I used to help my grannies.”

“Well, Linda…”

“Linn, it’s Linn…”

“A pretty name, Linn. I’ll remember it. Anyway, Miss Davies here seems to think I need to be spiffed up.”

“Spiffed?”

“Linn, Mr. Oliver likes to be well dressed and well groomed, which means being neat in his hair and fingernails and so forth. His masseur, the man who gives him massages and takes care of some personal needs is, well, best at massaging.”

“Okay, I understand. I will be happy to spiff you Mr. Oliver.”

“Ha! That’s the first happy thing I’ve heard in a while. Yes, spiff me! Ha! Well, we’ll talk about that later. I’m glad you’re here, I think I said that already, and I’m sure Maude will be glad too. She’s not getting any younger and the kids are getting more rambunctious. You know about children as well as older people?”

“Oh, yes. I have younger siblings and I have worked as a helper in a day care school.”

“Well, Diana Davies, you’ve done it again. Linn seems like a good person to have in the house. I’d like to be alone with Diana now, Linn, and please ask Maude to make me a small snack.”

“If it’s okay, Mr. Oliver, I can do this for you. I’ll ask Maude what you like.”

“You’re on the ball already. Good.”

“On the ball?”

“He means you already know what to do, Linn.”

“Okay, I’ll get the snack.”

Linn left the room quickly to accomplish her first task.

“Young Linn is a remarkable girl, Diana. How can she have had so much experience and be so good in English?”

“We had some luck. After her year here, she intends to study for a medical degree and she wants to improve her English. As you can tell, she has had her career in mind for some time—that’s why she has sought out so much experience in helping people.”

“Well, she’ll spoil us for any future helpers, but one year at a time. Now, what’s to report, Diana? I have nothing new to say.”

“Mr. Oliver, I recommend you consider accepting a visit from Theodore. According to what he told me yesterday, his psychiatrist says it’s important for him to say certain things to you. If you agree, it could be difficult for both of you, certainly for Theodore, but apparently there’s something he needs to say.”

“Well, I can’t think of how I could become more disturbed by Theodore than I have already been. You said you ‘recommend I consider.’ That’s kind of weasel-wordy, counselor. You don’t sound like you think I absolutely should do it.”

“Full disclosure as your attorney, and as a friend, requires me to say it might well disturb you.”

“Needs to stand up to the old man, does he? Might be a good thing for him, and I don’t see how it could harm me. I’ve been chest-to-chest with some pretty tough gangsters posing as capitalists. It might be refreshing.”   

“I’ll ask again, tomorrow, after you’ve had a chance to think it over.”

“I don’t need to think it over—I’ll do it. But you can call me tomorrow to verify it.”

“May I come in, Mr. Oliver?”

“Is that Linn already? Yes, come in and put the snack on the desk at the window. I like to look at the scenery when I eat. And did a little animal follow you in the room? What kind of an animal looks like a child?”

“Megan wants to follow me. I hope it’s all right.”

“Who is Megan, Diana?”

“She is your sister Lucille’s great-granddaughter. She’s seven years old. Her grandmother is your niece Evelyn Pierce, and her mother is Janet Pierce-Moran. Janet lives on the third floor with her husband James Moran. He’s employed in one of your companies.”

“How come she isn’t frightened of me like all the others?”

“Perhaps she would answer that question herself, Mr. Oliver.”

“Linn, please bring Megan with you and stand close to me so I can hear her little voice better. Yes, that’s good. Thank you.

“Megan, do you understand what I am saying?”

“Yes, Grander.”

“Grander? Is that what I am called by the children?”

“Yes, Grander.”

“What do you think ‘grander’ means?”

“You’re the oldest grand.”

“Grand?”

“You know—older than all the grandmas and grandpas.”

“Well, that’s true enough, Megan. Are you Linn’s assistant, her helper?”

“Maybe. I like Linn.”

“Well, well—you’re welcome to be here when Linn helps me, if it’s all right with her and if you don’t run around and make a lot of noise.”

“I won’t, I promise, Grander.”

“I’m getting tired now. Let me eat my snack, everyone.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Oliver. Let’s go now, girls.”

So Theodore needs to talk with me, or to me. How long has it been since we had a real talk, father to son, man to man? Years, many years. He was such a good boy when he was a child. Life is so hard on weak people.

And Linn, what kind of spiffing do I want from her? It’s embarrassing, but there’s no getting around the fact that I’m damn near helpless any more except in my wits and in speaking. I could use a woman’s touch in getting my clothes organized and chosen each day. She’s barely a woman, however, but she seems mature for her age. Maybe it’s her careful English. She looks strong, taller than Diana, rather pretty but not taken with herself like the young people in this house. She’s wants to be useful. Maybe she’ll teach little Megan something about that. Could be a good influence, if she allows her to tag along. Megan’s father—can’t remember him well. I guess he’s good enough if he’s working for me, or for the board of directors now. The companies aren’t about me anymore.

Look at the view. Summertime. Life in full, Nature’s glory. Maybe Linn will take Megan for a walk out there so I can enjoy watching them while they’re still innocent.

Where’s a walkie-talkie?

“Hello, Henry? Is Linn available for a chat with me? Good. We need an orientation—new employee and all that. Yes, if Megan wants to follow it’s all right with me if it’s all right with Linn.”

I wonder why Diana was less than direct in getting me to agree to see Theodore. Is there something going on? Well, something’s always going on. Can’t stop it. Might as well find out what it is, but it’s usually so tiring.

“I’m here, we’re here, Mr. Oliver.”

“Pull a chair over here next to me and we can both look out the window while we talk. Megan can sit on the carpet near us if she likes, it’s soft.”

“Okay.”

“Linn, it’s embarrassing for me to be so helpless and to need someone, especially a young person, to have to do things for me that I used to do for myself. I once had a good body, but now it’s just a wrinkled shell that keeps my innards together.”

“Innards?”

“My guts, what’s inside, including my brain, which seems to be the only innard that’s still working well. Anyway, I still can’t stand not to be neat and properly dressed. Part of getting neat is trimming the hair out of my ears and nose, and the wild hairs from my eyebrows, which the barber usually does okay. He gives me a good shave, too, so that’s taken care of when he’s here, but I need to be shaved more often. Some of what the masseur does is good or okay, but he’s not so good at shaving me, or in trimming my fingernails and toenails. I think he doesn’t like doing it, and I can’t blame him. And, I’m getting tired of telling him how I like to be dressed. He just can’t remember what I like and has no sense for it.”

“I have shaved older men and have trimmed fingernails and toenails for other people, also. I think I can learn how you like to be dressed. I think it would be fun.”

“Sort of like dressing a doll when you were a little girl, eh?”

“Oh, I don’t think so Mr. Oliver, it wouldn’t be like playing at all. It would like giving respect to someone, especially for you. Maybe fun is the wrong word. Maybe enjoy is the right word. I would feel important helping you and doing it right.”

“You’re a fine young woman, and you’re making it easy for me to accept you having to see and touch the me I can’t stand to look at anymore.”

“In school we talked about whether the body is the self, or if the self was something else. It was filosofi. I can see you as someone, right now, without seeing more than your head and your hands. And I see what you say, also. What you say and what you do tells me about your self. Anyway, young people need good-looking bodies so they can attract a mate and have children. I think you don’t need to do that anymore, Mr. Oliver.”

“Hahaha! That’s the second time you’ve made me laugh. Okay, I’ll turn my withered body over to you without feeling ugly and ashamed. And, if you want to treat me as an old doll, that’s okay too.

“Tomorrow morning, after the masseur is through with massaging me, go along with him as he selects my clothes for the day to get a feel for where everything is and what the process is. I’ll tell Diana to give him notice of this so he’ll call for you when he’s ready.

“As for trimming my nails, hand and foot, let’s get started now, so the masseur isn’t tempted to try it tomorrow.”

“Okay, Mr. Oliver. Since you like to sit at this window, I’ll set up to do it here, with some protection for the carpet.”

“Protection?”

“I need to soak your hands and feet in warm water to soften the nails. This makes it easier to cut the nails and less chance of cutting the skin.”

“Well, you seem to know what to do. Make it so.”

Sam Oliver became relaxed and thoughtful as Linn went about preparing for her work, with Megan tagging behind. A young woman is about to soak his feet and cut his toenails. Visions of Auntie Angie begin to float in front of him, combining with the tall, supple figure of Linn. He leans back in his chair to let the familiar reverie envelope him. He is aware of his fingers soaking in a bowl of warm water and, in a while, feels his nails being gently trimmed. Linn’s hands are soft and strong and full of youthful energy. Sam’s arms thrill to her touch. He is aware of little Megan intently and quietly peering at his hands from beside Linn.

Now, he knows, will come the soaking of his feet. His feelings are almost sexual, as if anticipating a climax. As he remains relaxed in his chair, he feels Linn gently removing his slippers and socks, their bareness making him feel completely naked. Linn places one foot gently into a pan of warm water. Sam feels transformed into his Grampa and relives the familiar scene.

He hears Megan say “his feet are so little and pretty.”

This remark breaks through the ancient image of his Grampa’s gnarled feet, making it quickly fade.

Fully conscious of the present, he allows himself to enjoy the new feelings that Linn’s manipulations give him, so different from the masseur’s.

“My aunt Angie used to massage my Grampa’s feet after clipping his toenails. His feet were always very tired from his work as a waiter.”

“I can do this too, for you, if you like.”

“Yes.”

As Linn’s strong hands and fingers press his soft feet, he feels more alive, that he really has a body again.

Then Megan places her face very close his head and asks, ”can I massage your other foot Grander?”

“Yes.”

Linn is through massaging his left foot. She leaves it uncovered beside the bowl of water. Sam’s right foot has soaked long enough, so she removes it from the bowl, puts the bowl aside, and dries his foot. Linn then trims the nails of this foot. Sam can sense Megan’s anticipation in getting her turn to massage his other foot.

When Linn finishes trimming the nails and moves away, Megan kneels down to hold Sam’s right foot in her soft hands, which are large enough, together, to completely envelope the sole and arch of his small foot.

He sees an angel in front of him.

Part 3

Next Day

Sam Oliver’s Bedroom,

“That was the best massage you have given me, Robert.”

“Thank you Mr. Oliver, but it was the same as always from my end. Your body did seem more relaxed than usual.”

“Maybe it’s all the extra help I’ve been getting recently. Call Linn into the bedroom now and show her the drill on getting me dressed.”

Linn arrived quickly upon Robert’s call on a walkie-talkie, having been waiting in the living room with Theodore and Megan.

“Is Theodore here yet Linn?”

“Yes, Mr. Oliver, and we have been getting to know each other. Megan introduced us. He is her cousin, I think. I hope it’s alright that Megan is here.”

“It’s up to Theodore. It’s his meeting.”

Robert quickly acquainted Linn with the closets and drawers containing Sam’s clothes and accessories. Together they selected his clothing for the day, and Linn watched while Robert dressed him, and then helped him into his wheelchair.

“What do you think, Linn? Seem like a job you can do? Are you strong enough to move me around like Robert does?”

“Oh, yes. I like all your clothes. There’s so much to choose from each day. And, yes, I am strong. Haven’t you heard about how strong Swedish women are?”

“Are you trying to make me laugh again Linn? Come on. Let’s go see Theodore. It will be a private conversation, unless he decides to keep Megan around.”

Sam felt refreshed and strong as he powered his wheelchair toward the bedroom exit. Robert strode quickly ahead to open the door. Sam glided his chair into the living room toward where Theodore stood facing the large window, looking at the garden. Megan was holding Theodore’s right hand.

Linn and Robert quickly left the apartment by the door into the second floor hallway, as Sam rolled to Theodore’s left side. He faced the window along with his son and Megan.

“Hello, Theo. I see you and Megan are friends.”

Theodore turned his head to look at his father. Sam was shocked to see how Theodore’s face had aged since he last saw him. How long has it been?

The three remained side-by-side as they continued talking.

“Oh, yes, Megan is my god-daughter. This makes us special friends. Is it all right if she stays with us while we talk?”

Sam thought that Theodore might be using Megan to cause him to soften any hard remarks he might make to Theodore, but he himself liked having Megan around.

“Of course, Theo. I feel I’ve become friends with Megan too. Now what is it we need to talk about?”

“I’m getting old, father. So are Beth and Frank.”

“Yes, of course, we all are. But what can we do about it?”

“Do you know how old I am, father? Seventy-nine. That’s beyond the average life expectancy for a white male, even one who has taken care of himself, which I haven’t.”

“You mean, you abused yourself.”

“You’re right, of course dad, and that’s the issue. I could die before you die.”

Upon hearing this, Sam felt a sudden emptiness in the middle of his body. He dwelt upon this feeling as Theodore continued.

“Your children are all in their seventies. None of us has taken good care of ourselves, certainly not like you’ve cared for yourself. You seem indestructible. We could all die before you do.”

Sam moved his chair to face Theodore, his back to the window, so he could look directly into Theodore’s eyes. They were misted with tears.

“Theo, Theo, what is all this about death and dying”?

Theodore sucked in a deep breath and said, gently but directly, “we want to be friends with you again before any of us die. We are tired and frightened of the distance amongst us and with you. We want to be a family again before one of us dies. We haven’t been all together since mother left us.”

At this, Theodore wept openly.

“What do you say, dad, can we all get together? Can we just all be in the same room together without bickering and fault-finding and voicing disappointments with each other? Could we do it now? Beth and Frank are downstairs. Can I call them up to be here with us, all together again?”

Sam had no tears to yield from his ancient body, but he drooped and slumped in his chair as he felt the weight of his son’s pain.

As Megan continued holding Theodore’s right hand, she moved toward Sam to take his left hand which was lying limply in his lap.

“Grander, please cheer up. It will be fun to have all my oldest grannies here. We can talk about old times!”

Megan’s cheerful, chirrupy voice broke through the gloom. Both Sam and Theodore began to giggle like children.

Part 4

Three Days Later

Sam Oliver’s Sitting Room

Sam Oliver sat in his wheelchair facing the window overlooking his garden. It was raining, moderately but steadily, with no wind to lash the raindrops at his window.

Man has no business in this affair. The plants and the sky are communicating. The plants will attempt to ambush the gardeners after this nourishment. There is that little pond that wants still to exist, even after we have drained it many times. Perhaps we should just let it be.

Sam Oliver’s thoughts drifted, again, to the unexpected and surprisingly pleasant reunion with his children three days ago. He reviewed, still again, the conclusions he had come to as a result of the meeting.

I can’t fully understand my motives, but it seems the right thing to do. I still feel good about it. I hope Diana won’t give me an argument. She is a strong and good person and is a faithful counselor to me for my benefit, as she sees it. Where’s that walkie-talkie?

“Henry, when Miss Davies arrives please tell her to come directly to me at the window. We won’t need refreshments and will want no interruptions. Yes. Thank you.”

Well, is this the last piece of business for me? If so, I think I may have just enough energy for it.

Diana Davies, J.D., M.B.A arrived silently to Sam Oliver’s side, her delicate perfume preceding her as she approached the window.

“Hello, Diana. Welcome to the real world, outside there.”

“Nature’s beautiful pageant renewing itself,” she responded.

They remained facing the window, he seated, she standing. Moments passed before Diana walked to a chair facing away from the window.

”How was your meeting with Theodore?”

Sam turned his chair to face her.

“Dear friend and counselor, I know you well enough to know you have asked Theodore the same question and you have his version. What can you tell me, Diana?”

“I can tell you he seemed relaxed and pleased.” 

“Very well, then, you haven’t violated any confidences but you have captured the atmosphere of the meeting well. You know, of course, that he had Beth and Frank waiting in the wings and we had a pleasant reunion, with little Megan as our, our… facilitator, you might say.”

“I heard that you referred to her as an angel.”

“I suppose I was being a bit dramatic due to the emotionality of the occasion, but I think she does have some special qualities. Ever since she attached to Linn and came into my life, I seem to have grown a new sense organ. Maybe Megan has caused me to remember some things I had forgotten. Anyway, all this tittle-tattle is relevant to why I asked you here today. I want to change the way my estate will be managed after my death.”

“Please tell me what has changed, Mr. Oliver.”

“First, something in me has relaxed and I feel I haven’t much time left for important decisions. This is a relief, not a complaint or a morbid preoccupation. You said a few months ago I wanted to keep my progeny, as you put it, in a state of anxious anticipation. Well, the anxieties of my children have been expressed directly to me now and I see that it has little to do with the disposition of the assets I control. I have been a stupid man. It’s too late to change my legacy, but I can add to it. Please get and turn on that audio recorder you have in your briefcase. Here’s what I want.

Sam took several deep breaths as Diana retrieved the recorder and her note pad.

“I’m ready, Mr. Oliver.”

“Upon my death, all residents of the mansion are to be given notice that they will have to find new living quarters within two years. I’ve enslaved them with my so-called generosity long enough. The mansion is to be turned over to a trust, to be set up by your firm, for the housing of unfortunate people. I don’t care what kind of unfortunate people—unwed mothers, orphans, people recovering from addictions, whatever. The trustees will be my children, for as long as they live of course, and it mightn’t be too long for any of them. Upon my death each of the trustees, that is my children, are to name a trustee-designate to replace him or her upon their respective deaths, and this is to continue ad infinitum.

“I want Megan to be appointed as an additional trustee upon her reaching age 25, and she will have the same obligation to name a successor. The compensation of the trustees is to be modest, based on the norm for non-profit organizations.

“I want my death to be a quiet event, with no big gatherings and hoopla. Nothing organized by the trustees of the estate or any organization I am connected to. Of course, I can’t control what any individual may want to do. I have no instructions on the disposition of the body that remains after my death. Let my children decide. I want no statues or grandiose memorials. I want the useful works to be done in the mansion to be my legacy.

“That’s all. All the other provisions in my will can remain. Oh yes, the costs of setting up and properly capitalizing the trust governing the works of the mansion are to be taken from the liquid assets of the estate before distribution to the designated heirs.

“Please have the notes and recording of this conversation memorialized as soon as possible.

“Do you have any professional objections or recommendations to my instructions?”

“I can think of none, Mr. Oliver.”

“I’m tired.”

“Mr. Oliver, I’ve turned off the recorder. It would be presumptuous for me to add my thoughts to what you have just said and accomplished. Please allow me to say that I love and admire you. That is all, and don’t feel you can take any liberties with me for having said this.”

“Oh, Diana. I would laugh and cry if I had the strength. You have filled a spot left empty by my wife who died too young. Not a romantic spot, although it has been fun to joke about it, but a partnership of some kind that doesn’t lend itself to words. I’m really too tired to continue talking. Let me rest a while here in front of the window. Please tell Linn and Megan I’ll be ready for their weekly attention in an hour.

“Goodbye, Diana. Please get married and have some babies.”

“See you later, Mr. Oliver. I’ll consider your suggestion.”

As he rested in front of his window overlooking the garden, Sam’s heart seemed to grow large inside him. It seemed to fill his shrunken chest. He let himself sense the feeling without thinking about it and dozed the full hour before Linn and Megan arrived.

“May we come in Mr. Oliver?”

“Yes, yes, Linn. Has it been an hour already? I guess so or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Shall we begin with a shave today?”

“No, Linn. All I want today is a footbath and massage. It’s all I have the energy for. It’s been a tiring few days, even if they have been good days.”

“All right, Megan I will take a few minutes to prepare everything.”

Sam relapsed into his doze. He felt comforted by the now familiar first touch of Linn’s hand on his feet as she removed his slippers and socks. The warm water on his feet suffused throughout his body and surrounded merged with the feeling of his seemingly now larger heart.

It had become Megan’s sole responsibility to massage Sam’s feet after Linn had bathed them and performed the pedicure. Vivid images of Grampa and his feet appeared to Sam. As Megan stroked his soft and tiny feet Sam remembered Grampa’s rough and big feet, and how his angel auntie stroked them with love and tenderness.

Sam’s heart grows larger and larger until it fills the universe…

END