Recapitulation: Still trying to keep Hardy’s attention, Barry unintentionally coaxes a horror story from him about Great-Aunt Gertie and a bowl of cold prune oatmeal. They draw ever closer in the queue to the old woman, and he must continue on this crazy path.
Barry blinked. “Oh.” He’d always oatmeal, though he’d never garnished prunes atop the muddy surface.
Hardy let go of his hands, but dropped them to his sides, still clenched tight. “Rich people are always eccentric. Poor people are always insane. Simple as that. She controlled the money. We had to deal with it, once a year, every year. Now look at it, this is the second time we’re all seeing each other.” Hardy made an exaggerated show of viewing the crowd. “We’ve all got our stories, and we all let it happen. This is what people will do for a common goal.” He wiped his mustache with thumb and index finger.
“You mentioned she willed all her money away to everyone?”
Hardy chuckled. “That was the best part. She had her moments, brief passing moments, but when they came, she was a totally different person. Regretful, nostalgic. That was when she changed the will. Had all her lawyers and witnesses and everything there. It was all on the up and up. Gave half her money to charity.”
“Well, charities aren’t necessarily a bad thing.”
“The ASPCA? She never even owned a cat. She hated animals. I remember one summer, she stepped on cousin Mitchie’s hamster. Said it got loose, but she smashed it. The other half of the money, well, she just started listing everyone she wronged, and didn’t stop. Three pages on the will. Three pages. God. Do you know how much money I was supposed to get?”
Barry shook his head.
“Over five million dollars.
“So, who else got money besides your family?”
Hardy sighed. “Schoolteachers, crossing guards, checkout cashiers, salespeople, she must’ve had some list of people she wronged. She even willed all of them nice clothing. That’s how I knew you weren’t in the will. You and your girlfriend are the only two here that weren’t dressed by Great-Aunt Gertie’s clothiers. Look around, you can’t tell anyone apart.”
Barry made the requisite scan of the room, and realized that he couldn’t tell them apart. Dressed in the same finery, their conversations indistinguishable, he couldn’t separate the honest from the greedy at all.
“Not to be disrespectful, but really, what did they ever do to deserve it? Hell, I find it hard to believe that she could have really offended everyone.” Hardy sniffed, turned his nose up. Then, Barry thought, maybe Great-Aunt Gertie wasn’t so insane.
He nodded at Hardy. “Excuse me.” Barry turned around as Jenna poised herself over
No comments:
Post a Comment