Trust

Linsey Slocum checked the parking area under her bedroom window. No sign of her father’s car. Apparently, he had already left for his job at the car dealership on Route 20. Hurray. One less confrontation to deal with this morning.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell if her stepmother’s car was in its usual location around the corner. She felt a small knot of dread in her belly.

She headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Her step-siblings, Donna and Ricky, were at their father’s house for a regular visitation weekend, so she didn’t need to wait for access. Lucky for them, they could escape from their mother, Belinda.

Thirty minutes later, she stuffed her laptop and notebooks into her favorite messenger bag and grabbed her cellphone before heading downstairs. She had just enough time to grab a protein bar and head to her weekend job at the town library.

Entering the kitchen, Linsey came to an abrupt stop. Belinda looked up from pouring green ooze from the blender into a glass. A matching glass sat close by on the counter.

“Ah. Here you are. It’s a peace offering.” Her smile was lopsided, and her eyes had a nasty squint that made Linsey’s skin crawl. “I know you love these smoothies, so I made one for the two of us to share so that we can sit and talk.”

Probably due to all the drama of the previous evening, Belinda did not look quite as poised and perfectly coifed as usual. She seemed to have skipped her morning full-on makeup routine, and she was wearing pink sweats rather than one of her weekend designer outfits that murmured luxury.

Linsey forced a false smile of her own and took the glass Belinda held out to her. “This looks great. I really want us to all move forward together. As a family.”

Linsey did not want to turn her back on Belinda, and it seemed Belinda felt the same way. As they edged forward in an awkward waltz toward the small family room area next to the kitchen, Belinda’s cellphone chimed.

“Oops. I have to get this. It’s my sister. I’ll be right back.” Belinda set her glass down on the corner of the nearest counter and hustled through the door to the living room.

From the other room, Linsey could hear Belinda’s hushed tones with an overlay of a bitchy whine, but not all the details. “Oh. My. Good. Such a hss mess. What hss hss little bitch. And Scott. He’s hss hss useless … hss hss divorce.”

Linsey tried to inch forward so she could hear better while remaining hidden by the door frame. She felt the messenger bag over her shoulder catch on something and whirled just in time to see Belinda’s glass start to tip over.

She was able to catch the glass before it hit the countertop but over half of Belinda’s drink and some of her own splashed across the counter.

Crap! Belinda would have a fit. She righted the glass and set her own next to it. She shed her messenger bag and started a frantic cleanup of the counter

As she rinsed the mess down the sink, she could hear the phone call was coming to an end. Linsey wiped down both glasses and slid her own into the same position where Belinda had left hers.

“What? I can’t believe this. You went ahead and drank your smoothie without me?” Belinda’s face flushed, and she scowled as she picked up what had been Linsey’s glass.

“I’m sorry, Bee. I’m late for the library, and I need to get going. I still have a little left.” Linsey waved Belinda’s glass. “We have a few minutes.”

Belinda slugged down a hefty portion of the green drink. “That is so typical of you. So selfish. Ugh. I can’t see why you love these things so much.”

Linsey drained the rest of the glass in her hand. “I do want to talk. Let’s do this later. I’ll be home about six.”

Belinda finished her smoothie and slammed the glass onto the countertop. “Suit yourself. Clean up before you go.”

Linsey watched Belinda retreat from the kitchen. Sweats were not a flattering look for her stepmother. “Hey, Belinda. This is my house now. Clean up after yourself.”

Ignoring the blender and the glass Belinda drank from, Linsey skipped the dishwasher, scrubbed out the glass she had used, and then thoroughly dried it. Opening the cupboard door to replace the glass, she noted a prescription bottle tucked away on the right side.

She squinted for a closer look. The name of Belinda’s mother was on the label, and the date was from a year ago when she had been dying from cancer.

What the hell? Actiq?

Finally, calm enough to face the world, Linsey headed for the front door.

* * *

The Hartwell Public Library was a short walk from Linsey’s house on Oriska Street. Usually, she shut the door and never looked back, preferring to put all the pain and tension of Slocum family life behind her.

Today, she crossed the street and turned to look back. Her house. It really was her house. Her mother had left it to her in a will drawn up when Linsey was still a baby. For over 250-odd years, it had been in Linsey’s family, and now that Linsey was 18, it was fully hers, no longer under the guardianship of her father.

She took in the long, elegant lines that made an inverted T across the front, including an indented porch with columns. The upper part of the upside-down T held bedrooms, including her rather small one on the end. The inside was lovely, with large fireplaces and walnut mantlepieces. Who would live there when she went away to college? Her father had a life estate — a term she had recently learned all about — but perhaps he and Belinda would rather live someplace else now.

However. If they got divorced …

The weather softened all the edges of the day, filling the air with a mix of snow, sleet, rain, and ice. Just another typical March day in the Finger Lakes, receiving weather from Canada after it passed over Lake Ontario. Linsey pulled up her hood and turned into the wind to get to the sanctuary of the library.

* * *

A scant two months before, Linsey had been in her bedroom getting ready to go to her regular Saturday gig at the library when hushed voices had drifted up through the heating vent. Even without being able to hear the words clearly, she knew that diabolic machinations were afoot.

Linsey had finely tuned her ability to anticipate what her stepmother was up to. At times, Linsey felt like a master hunter watching for tracks in the woods — except that Belinda was always the hunter, and Linsey was the shy woodland creature looking for shelter.

Belinda had a mask for every occasion — so many that Linsey wondered if the woman was ever truly her naked self. Charming Belinda, Pissed Off Belinda, Vengeful Belinda, Amused Belinda … even Loving Belinda.

Linsey eased out of her desk chair onto all fours and crept to the open vent set into the floor to listen. Over two hundred years ago, the vent was originally designed to provide secondhand warmth from the parlor below, not to enable eavesdropping. Despite the modern comforts of central heating, Linsey’s bedroom vent had proved highly beneficial during her six years living with Belinda.

These days, the parlor served as her father’s home office. Peering through the grate, Linsey could see Belinda and her father seated in matching club chairs on either side of the elegant fireplace with the carved black walnut mantelpiece. Only her father’s weekend chinos and Top-Siders were visible at this angle, but Linsey could have dropped a drizzle of spit directly on top of Belinda’s head where her mousey brown roots were showing.

There was no fire on this early January day — the conversation was generating significant heat: they were talking about Linsey.

Her father spoke in normal tones, but his voice had an anxious whine. Belinda was in soothing mode — always a red flag. Linsey rolled carefully onto her side, pulled out her cellphone, pushed the record button, and set it gently on top of the grate. These days she made it a point to record many of her interactions with the adults in her life — particularly Belinda.

“I know Linsey is bright, but she is applying to top-notch ivies. She’s so young and naive. Her classmates will be smarter, and they will be much more sophisticated and worldly.” Belinda smoothed her sleek, silky trousers and refolded her hands. “You know what I mean. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. Gender confusion. Interracial dating.”

Linsey could see her father’s fingers tap on his chinos like he was playing piano. “I worry about her too, Bee. But she’s about to graduate. She wrote an essay about going to college for the Hartwell Gazette. No one will believe it if she suddenly decides to stay home.”

Belinda raised her hands as if to surrender. A fake-out, of course. Belinda was like a dog with a bone. She never gave up.

“Very well, dear. But she might come up against some strong truths soon. How will she afford this? What is she going to do for spending money? A piddly little college job won’t cover all her needs. She’ll need to take out massive student loans. If she commutes from home, her expenses will be minimal.”

“Most schools are needs-blind. She could well be offered an academic scholarship and maybe room and board. She plans to take out a student loan for incidentals. I’ll need to provide some information to help her with that.”

“What sort of information?” For the first time, Belinda’s voice carried an edge.

“Just tax return information. Still, the bank called me the other day and reminded me Linsey will be coming into the full amount of her trust when she turns 18.”

“Her trust,” Belinda echoed. Not a question.

“Yes, Bee. The trust.” Linsey’s father sounded peeved. “The one I’ve used to pay our living expenses over the years. The one I’ve used to pay tuition for Ricky and Donna’s prep school.”

“Sweetie, you know…” Belinda stopped and wriggled her bottom into the chair. “Well. Linsey’s mother should never have made a small child the beneficiary of her life insurance policy. She should have trusted you to handle everything. And the house too.”

Her father groaned and folded forward onto his knees. “Oh my God. And the house too. Those home equity loan payments will start coming due soon.”

Her father and Belinda sat in silence for several moments, allowing questions to come into Linsey’s mind. Trust? What is a trust? What about the house? Doesn’t Belinda want me to leave?

“Scott?” Her tone indicated Belinda’s little brain wheels had been turning, and she had a plan. “Does Linsey know about the trust? Or the house? No? I thought not.”

Linsey tried to get a better look at her father’s face, but he had leaned back in the chair. His chinos had damp stains where his face and palms had rested.

“My dearest. You have done so much for this family. We owe you everything. Linsey is a part of this family, and she has been doing her part for all of us.”

“What is your suggestion?” Her father’s voice was flat and lifeless.

Get ready, Dad.

“Scott, listen closely. All you need to do is move the rest of the money out of the trust. You can do that as trustee. Transfer it to your account. Leave a little bit. That will seem like a lot to her.

“If she challenges anything, you explain that you have done this for her. And that is the truth. She’s too young to worry about handling money. You will be giving her an allowance as she needs it over the next few years while she’s in college. I’m sure a couple hundred a month will be plenty. Assuming she keeps up her grades, of course.”

“Of course.” Linsey could see her father relax and slump into his chair. “What about the house?”

“Don’t do anything right away. She’ll be so busy with college she may not even pay attention. What you should do is propose to take it off her hands. Just give her the property tax bill and she’ll panic. Arrange to give her a token amount after you’ve refinanced. That should seem like a lot for a child her age. And this house will be ours for real.”

Linsey flopped onto her back. She could no longer bear to look at the scene below.

“I could move the money on Monday,” her father said.

“Don’t you have to pay some expenses in March? Ricky and Donna’s school fees for the fall?”

Ah, Belinda. Always looking out for your own priorities.

“Right. Mid-March. That’s fine. Her birthday is April fourth. I’ll move everything by the beginning of April, as soon as those checks clear.”

Belinda’s laugh was happy and clear. “Perfect timing. We can still take the family trip to Aspen.”

By family trip, Belinda meant Linsey’s father, Belinda, and her children, Ricky and Donna.

This was a family tradition since Belinda and her kids had moved in. Every March, they took a ski vacation together. March was when Linsey went to stay with her godmother, Sherry.

The sound of chairs scraping on the floor indicated the meeting was over. Belinda and Linsey’s father gathered their teacups and headed toward the kitchen.

“I assume Linsey’s working at the library?” Scott asked, his voice barely audible.

“She practically lives there.” Belinda’s voice was faint as well. “She seems to view that librarian — Sherry? — like a mentor.”

Linsey lay on her back, listening to the footsteps fade. Her inner world was twirling so fast she didn’t dare stand up.

She focused on the hole in her father’s plan. Due to the Belinda vacation tradition, the family celebrated her birthday every April 4. How could her father have forgotten that her actual birthday was March 4?

* * *

Linsey burst through the main doors of the library chased by gusts of a late-March snowstorm. Head Librarian Sherry Kumler glanced up from her post at the main counter, a massive construction of black walnut and cherry. Linsey Slocum was late, and Linsey was never late. Unless … unless there were problems at home.

Sherry’s eyebrows pulled into a scowl, and her dark brown eyes flashed with concern. Linsey’s mother had been her best friend since kindergarten, and Sherry was also Linsey’s godmother — originally an honorific but then a duty when Linsey’s mother had died suddenly from sepsis six years ago.

“I’m late,” Linsey said. “I know I’m late.” She dropped her bag and leaned on the counter with both hands.

Sherry leaned back and stared. She picked up an empty metal trash can and set it on the counter. “Uh-oh. I guess the money cat is out of the bag. Was it terrible? You know you can call me. Or just come over. And if you’re going to be sick, please do it in this.”

Linsey rounded the corner of the front desk and sank into her usual chair. “I wasn’t in physical danger, but it was bad.”

Sherry pulled up a chair and rubbed Linsey’s back. “We knew this would happen sooner or later. When you closed your dad out of your trust account, he was going to have to find out. I’m amazed that it’s been over two weeks. Look at it this way: he’s never going to forget the date of your real birthday ever again.”

“I had to threaten him with legal action if he didn’t settle down and come up with a plan to repay me,” Linsey said, wiping her eyes. “And I also broke the news to him that Belinda has been getting tuition payments all along from her ex-husband.”

“Oooh. Belinda must have loved that. Were Donna and Ricky there?”

“No. At their dad’s this weekend.” Linsey offered Sherry a wan smile. “That was the end of the conversation. Dad and Belinda went off to their room to fight all night. I cleared and cleaned up.”

“Still at it this morning?” asked Sherry.

“Dad was gone early. Belinda made us smoothies to kiss and make up. But then I spilled hers by mistake. I gave her mine, but the damage was done. I’ll try again later.”

“Why bother? The woman is a menace. And you should go to the authorities and have your father arrested for stealing from your trust. And more.”

“I don’t know, Sherry. Dad is all the family I have left. I would pay millions of dollars to have my mother back. I’m willing to overlook some of it if it means he’s still part of my life.”

Sherry gave Linsey a long stare and wiped away a few tears. “Gotcha. Thanks to the weather, it will be a slow day. Take it easy. Do your homework. Chill out.”

* * *

Linsey tried to focus on other tasks, but the previous night’s argument kept replaying in her mind. She did remember to look up the drug in the kitchen cabinet.

Actiq: a prescription version of fentanyl. WTF?

Her father had stormed in as Linsey finished setting the dinner table. He didn’t even bother removing his coat when he began screaming at her, his face ashen with anger.

“What the hell did you do? Do you realize checks have bounced?” His voice was a hair’s breadth under a yell. Spittle sprayed from his mouth.

By then, Belinda had joined him. “What’s going on?” She glared at Linsey. “What did she do?”

Scott took off his coat and slung it to the floor. Linsey edged around to the far side of the table.

“She closed out her trust and moved it to a new account. At a different bank. I have no access to it at all. And the checks were for Donna’s and Ricky’s tuition.”

“What? How could she do that?” Belinda turned her full focus to Linsey. “You aren’t even 18 yet.”

“I am …” Linsey’s voice quavered. She stopped, cleared her throat, and tried again. “My birthday has always been March 4. You found that inconvenient for your Aspen trips, but that doesn’t change the official date.”

Both her father and Belinda stopped yelling. Taking advantage of the silence, Linsey pressed ahead. “Dad, you have been raiding my trust account for years to pay for items not related to my care. Like paying for Donna and Ricky, vacations you took without me, and more. I want you to know that my lawyer tells me this is fraud. He thinks I should make sure you are prosecuted — possibly you too, Belinda. You’d go to prison. And by the way, this house is also now fully mine. You can move out any time you want.”

Belinda recovered first and moved closer. “Lawyer? You have a lawyer? Who is this creep? Some fly-by-night idiot?”

Linsey stood her ground. “His name is Robert Walsh. That’s right; your ex-husband. Very successful, I believe. And a nice guy. He also gave me a copy of your divorce agreement. He sends you lots of money for Donna and Ricky’s welfare, including tuition fees. He gave me copies of several bank statements to prove it.”

Belinda shrieked and ran out of the room. Linsey’s father sat silently for several long minutes, then stood and went after his wife.

The fight had lasted only 15 minutes, but Linsey felt like she’d run a marathon. She gasped for breath, and her legs were trembling. She slumped into a chair. Muffled sounds of an argument were the only noises.

Marginally more composed, Linsey cleared the unused table, made a plate of food for herself, and put the rest into containers she shoved into the refrigerator. She ate dinner in her room and was in bed by 8:30.

* * *

“I really do not want to go home,” Linsey muttered. “Could I stay here tonight?”

“Look, Linsey, if you are worried your father or Belinda will harm you, you should come to my house. No hesitation,” Sherry said, holding Linsey’s hands in hers. “The same thing applies if there is yelling and shouting or mental abuse. If you want, I’ll go with you, and you can pack up a few things.”

At 6:00, they locked the library and walked together to Linsey’s house in silence. Linsey was so tense she could feel her belly shaking with tremors. When she saw her father’s car spot was still empty, she thought she might melt to the snowy sidewalk. Unfortunately, Belinda’s car was in the driveway, covered with four fresh inches of snow.

Sherry kept a firm grip on Linsey’s arm. “It’s very slippery here tonight. I need to hold onto you. I can’t afford to fall. Okay with you?”

Linsey mumbled, “Thanks.”

The house was very still inside. All the lights were off, and the temperature had dropped the way it did when no one was around.

“Belinda?” Sherry yelled. “You here?”

They quickly determined Belinda was not in any of the downstairs rooms or the basement and headed up the back stairs to the master bedroom suite. Halfway up, a sour smell of vomit and possibly something worse hit them.

“This can’t be good,” Sherry said. “Do you want me to go ahead?”

Linsey shook free from Sherry’s support and bolted up the remaining steps.

Despite the darkened bedroom, Linsey could clearly see Belinda stretched out on the king-sized mattress. She flipped on the overhead light and took in the details.

Belinda was fully dressed in the same pink sweats, minus her shoes. She had thrown up, and remnants of partially digested smoothie were on her clothes, the comforter, and even the floor.

Linsey lifted a corner of the comforter, and the pungent smell of feces hit her.

Belinda’s eyes were half-open and when Linsey nudged her shoulder, her body was stiff and unyielding.

“We should do CPR,” Linsey said in a whisper.

“No, sweetie. She’s been dead a good while. That’s why she’s a bit stiff. Rigor mortis.” Sherry pulled Linsey away from the bed. “We need to call 9-1-1 and not disturb anything.”

“What’s that? Next to her?”

Sherry used a tissue from Belinda’s supply on the bedside table to lift a notepad on Belinda’s abdomen.

“Looks like a letter. Maybe to her sister? It’s mostly complaining about you. And your dad. And everyone else. And life’s a total mess.”

Sherry replaced the notepad carefully and pocketed the tissue. “I’m calling now. You go downstairs and stay there.”

* * *

A fickle April sunlight brightened the parish hall as Linsey paused at the long table to straighten Belinda’s picture and make sure her urn was centered between the two large floral bouquets. She brushed crumbs from the pink tablecloth and combined the platters of delicate finger food.

Sherry appeared at her shoulder. “Nice eulogy. That part of loving her children most of all was very touching.”

“Well, I had to come up with something positive that was actually true,” Linsey said, keeping her voice low.

“I’m surprised the church agreed to allow the service. Back when I was a kid, religious services for suicides weren’t allowed. I suppose it’s a kinder, gentler world now.”

Linsey turned to survey the room, making sure no one else was close enough to overhear. “Now, now. Don’t forget, the authorities have ruled Belinda’s death an accident after misjudging the amount of fentanyl needed to just take the edge off a bit after a stressful argument with Dad.”

Sherry snorted. “Okay. You stick with that. It took them long enough to make up their minds. And no one else in town believes it was an accident.”

Linsey bit her lip. Topic closed.

“This is a big turnout. I’m sure Donna and Ricky appreciate that.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Sherry said. “Most people didn’t like Belinda. They’re just curious to see you and your father and her kids, of course. Even her ex showed up.”

As if on cue, Belinda’s daughter, Donna, walked by and managed to stumble, spilling some of her drink. Linsey stepped back in time, and most of that landed on her shoes. Donna shot Linsey an icy glare and kept walking.

“A chip off the old block, I gather,” Sherry muttered.

“Donna and Ricky blame me for Belinda’s death. They are convinced she committed suicide because of me. Or even that I might have done it. Forget that only Belinda’s fingerprints were on that glass and blender. And that pill bottle.”

Sherry swiveled to watch Donna cross the room. “Good thing they’re living with their father now. Otherwise, I might worry for your safety.”

Linsey turned away to focus on the rest of the crowd. “Maybe when they’re older, they’ll appreciate how Belinda made her own misery.”

The two stood side-by-side, mulling over their private thoughts, watching the scene.

Sherry spoke first. “I wonder. Do you think her kids would rather know that their mother was an attempted murderer or that she died of suicide?”

“I don’t intend to make that call,” Linsey said.

A loud clapping sound silenced the crowd. Linsey’s father gave a short speech, full of kind words and admiration for his late wife and thanking all who came that day.

After, the crowd surged around him, shaking his hand, offering hugs for Donna and Ricky and even a few for Linsey.

Before long, guests were starting to leave. Linsey rejoined Sherry at a table where some had left cards and flowers.

“How’s your father doing?” Sherry whispered. “We were all so shocked that he married Belinda so soon after your mother’s death.”

Linsey looked over at her father. “Grief-stricken, of course. It’s only been a month,” she replied. “Who’s that woman holding his arm?”

“That’s Winnie. She went to school with us. Maybe a year or two younger. Just moved back after a big career in high tech.”

“No kidding.”

“She’s nice enough. Your mother liked her. Lots of money, I hear. And she owns her own home.”

Linsey let that sink in.

Sherry cleared her throat. “Which reminds me, is your father going to pay back the money he took from your trust? You’ll need that if you’re going to Yale.”

Linsey averted her gaze and studied her fingernails. “Yes. At least he says so. He apologized. If I don’t rat him out, he will be able to make it right. It turns out he inherits half of Belinda’s estate.”

“Which includes all those duplicate tuition and support payments she received from her ex-husband.”

Linsey looked at her father, who was now chatting with another woman. “Yup. Like I remind him: Trust is a verb.”