Distribution

"Mr. Martin was also quite specific about keeping those expenses to a minimum," Ms. Dickens said, and I was beginning to think that I had an ally.

Ms. Kindle looked at each member of the group, trying to assess the way they were leaning on the topic of what were reasonable expenses. She looked to Ms. Whitney for help, and seeing that the attorney's assistant was not giving any, she turned to me. I stared back at her, blankly, and I believe that she could read my mind, but she called for the vote anyway.

"Who is in favor of my seeking accommodations in a moderately priced motel?"

In addition to her own hand, Mr. McMahan's hand shot up. Ms. Kindle looked at me, pleading for me to raise my hand. I knew that my forty-four votes would have sealed the deal, and that she would probably side with me in future decisions. I shook my head, and watched her shoulders slump in defeat.

"This meeting is adjourned," she said, heading for the house.

"When's the next meeting?" Mr. McMahan asked, but he may as well have been talking to the ground. Everyone was getting up to leave.

"I'll call you," Ms. Whitney mouthed, and I nodded my understanding.

"Let's meet tomorrow at nine AM," I suggested, and everyone agreed, except Ms. Kindle, of course, who was half-way to the house.

As the others drove off, I went to my truck, parked it in the driveway, and brought my few possessions into the house. The quality of the air was only slightly improved.

Not seeing or hearing Ms. Kindle, I walked from room to room. The kitchen was large, and had been updated at some point in the last decade. The cabinet-top was marble, the flooring was tile, and the appliances were not old. A small table and two chairs sat next to a window that overlooked the back yard. The pantry was spacious. I turned my flashlight on, and found a broom, a dust mop, and a candle.

As I walked from the kitchen to the living room, I realized that the kitchen ceiling had been lowered, probably at the time of the update. The ceiling was two feet higher in the living room, and the wide-pine flooring squeaked. The furniture consisted of large, leather-covered pieces, bookshelves along one wall, and a game table, suitable for chess or cards, with two straight-backed chairs.

The next room had a high ceiling, a dining table with eight chairs, a hutch, and a serving cart. I was looking at the china inside the hutch when I heard the floor squeak. Knowing I hadn't moved, the squeak had to be coming from upstairs. Ms. Kindle must have decided to leave the first floor to me, and claimed the upstairs for herself.

I heard the upstairs flooring squeak again as I found a bathroom that doubled as a laundry. The shower, bathroom fixtures, the washer and dryer had been replaced within the last five years.

There was one other room. It was small, possibly a one-time maid's room. There was a bed, dressing table, and it appeared that the room had been used recently.

I heard the upstairs flooring squeak again as I began sweeping, then took the throw-rugs outside, thinking that I would beat the dust out of them later. I'd finished sweeping the kitchen and front room when Ms. Whitney called to say that my credentials had been faxed to the utility companies. She gave me their phone numbers, and I began calling them to arrange resumption of their services.

They all gave me the same answer. The service had been discontinued due to their bills going unpaid for ninety days. The gas company told me that they had sent a representative to the house to make sure there were no occupants, implying that they'd been looking for dead people.

I called the attorney's office and got their voicemail. I left a message for Ms. Whitney, explaining what the utility companies had said.

I resumed sweeping, admonishing myself for not getting the amounts the estate owed to each utility. Where were the bills showing the amounts owed, anyway? I walked out to the street to check the mailbox. It was empty, but Mr. Hubert must have been watching from his house. He met me at the backdoor, and handed me a large cardboard box filled with mail.

"I've been collecting this since they took Elsie away. The postman stopped leaving mail the other day. He must have heard about her death."

"Thank you, Mr. Hubert."

"Did you find everything you need?" he asked, lingering at the back door, like he would like to have been invited inside.

"Yes, thank you."

"Don't hesitate to call me if I can be of help. Mackey kept the telephone book in a cabinet drawer in the kitchen. I can show you where it is if you want."

"Thanks again, Mr. Hubert. I'm sure I'll be able to find the phone book," I said, easing my body inside the door, and closing it behind me.

I checked the time on my cell phone, and saw that it was a few minutes past six. The first call I made was to my house. After letting Mary know that I'd arrived safely, she put Amanda on the phone. She tried to sound mature, saying that they were getting along fine. Phillip painted a different picture, but I heard Amanda in the background, urging him not to cry.

Next on my list was Marian. Her disposition was much improved from the night before when she'd almost begged me to come to her house. She asked what I was doing, and I told her that I was sorting the mail from the last three months into two stacks, bills and bank statements in one, and junk mail in the other. She laughed. I didn't tell her about the stale air in the house, or that I'd spent the last two hours sweeping the floors.

Judy said that John was out someplace, but I caught up with Mrs. Nixon. There was a common theme among the people I spoke to: "When are you coming home?" I told them all the same thing: "I don't know."

I didn't try to speak to Henrietta, knowing that this was her dinner hour at the café.

Feeling the urge to take a leak, and knowing that there was no water to flush the toilet, I walked behind the barn, and wet down the grass. If anyone saw me, they didn't complain. Anyway, it was becoming dusk, and most houses had lights burning.

Back inside, I started opening the mail. Most of it was addressed to the trust. There were at least three bills from each utility. I put them in chronological order, by utility, and entered them in a spreadsheet. There were stock dividend statements, advising that deposits had been made to the trust's checking account.

I found a checkbook in a kitchen cabinet, and entered the deposits. I then opened the bank statements for the last three months, and discovered that there were two checking accounts.

One of the statement balances matched fairly closely to the checkbook I'd been posting to, but the balance of the other statement was much higher. Both bank statements included certificates of deposits, which totaled one hundred thousand dollars per bank. Where was the missing checkbook?

Thick envelopes from the United States Treasury containing statements for the last three months explained the high balance. A Treasury note in the amount of twenty thousand dollars had expired each month, and been deposited to the second checking account, plus interest. The statement balance was four hundred and twenty thousand dollars, and the dates of expiration extended to May 2009.

Should I bring these discoveries to the attention of the other distribution committee members? The second checking account statement showed a balance in excess of seventy thousand dollars.

Finding the elusive checkbook was imperative. How would we make distributions without it? I replaced the mail in the cardboard box, deciding to make an effort to find the checkbook before I disclosed the balance to the others. It was after eight PM when I had everything entered. I turned off my computer, lit a candle, and heard my stomach growl.

"I'm going to pick up something to eat," I said, yelling in the direction of the upstairs. "Do you want anything?"

After waiting a minute, I tried again. "Ms. Kindle, can I bring you something to eat?"

Still not hearing anything from the second floor, I extinguished the candle, drove to the first pizza shop I found, ordered a large pizza, and went next door where I bought a six-pack of beer, six bottles of water, and six Cokes.

I called Henrietta while I was having my first slice of pizza and a beer.

"I heard you left town suddenly. Whose daughter did you knock up?"

"Don't try to cheer me up. I got up at three-thirty this morning, and now I'm eating pizza by candlelight because all the utilities are shut off. I had to go in back of the barn to pee, and when I hang up from you I'm going to spread my sleeping bag out on the hard floor."

"You didn't knock up the banker, did you?"

"She wishes, but I didn't have time last night," I said, reaching for my second slice of pizza.

"How long are you going to be there?"

"I don't know. Ah, Shit!"

"What's wrong?"

"I just heard the upstairs toilet flush. Did I tell you that we don't have any water?"

"No, you told me not to try to cheer you up."

"I hope she realizes that there's no more water in the tank."

"Who?"

"The other forty-four percent. I'm representing my dad, who is entitled to forty-four percent of the estate, and she's representing her dad, who is entitled to the same amount. There are three townspeople, who have three votes each, and the attorney is earning three shares, but he doesn't vote."

"Is forty-four...?"

"Don't say it. I haven't looked that closely. Anyway, she's married."

"Oh," Henrietta said, and I could tell that she'd already lost interest. The new people in my life were not juicy enough for her. She told me to call often, and we ended the call.

I finished the second slice of pizza, closed the box, spread my sleeping bag out on the living room floor, and extinguished the candle. I opened the set of framed photographs of my family, and used my flashlight to search the faces that I knew so well. Peggy's picture was taken in two-thousand five, a couple of months before her death. Amanda's and Phillip's pictures were more recent, but the one of all four of us was taken when Phillip was four years old. I studied the smiling faces for several minutes before I turned the flashlight off and fell asleep.

I awoke with a start. Sun was streaming through the front window, and the first things I saw were the four photographs.

The second thing I saw was Ms. Kindle. She was munching on a cold slice of pizza, and had a bottle of water in her hand.

She looked surprised, but I didn't pay her any attention. I had a more pressing matter to take care of. I put on my sneakers, and headed for the back of the barn.