Balance of Power Shifted (3 page)

Heading into the
three-car garage, I looked for my favorite car.  The 1984 Mercedes SEC 500 sedan was not there, however the pickup and smaller sedan were.  The thought quickly crossed my mind that SEC 500 must have been the car they were driving when the accident happened.  Squeezing past my quads and dirt bikes, I opened the door to the 2008 Dodge Ram pickup.  Opening the sparkling ashtray, no one smoked in the house, I found the keys where they were always kept.  Hitting the garage door opener and backing out into the driveway, I pulled away from the house.  Watching the door close as I drove away, I also took in the neat manicured lawn and flowerbeds that had been Nana’s passion and where I had spent hours helping her.

I had a
growing pit in my stomach that had started when I first heard the tragic news.  After thinking about that feeling, I wondered if it was partly due to not eating anything since yesterday evening.  Pulling into a local deli, I grabbed a sugar free AMP and two buttered rolls and The Newark Star Ledger.  I know…breakfast of champions, but the fact is I loved this stuff including gallons of diet Pepsi.  Throwing the paper into the passenger seat and pulling back on to road, I drove the bucolic streets towards the station. I took a bite of the buttered roll and almost instantly felt a little better, but could not get rid of a feeling of hollowness.  There is nowhere outside the NY metro area that makes better bread and bagels.  Being in the Atlanta area for the last few years gave me an appreciation of how good the bread was in this area.

Taking the last bite of my roll and gulping the last
ounce from my can of AMP, I pulled into the Peapack police station, slash municipal building parking lot and into a Visitor’s parking space.  This being Saturday, there was not a lot of cars around and I hoped one of the cars belonged to Officer Sampson, since I did not get a confirmation from him that he would be here.

Walking into the visitor’s entrance
, I stopped due to a locked door.  A male voice came in over a speaker system and asked, “Can help you.”  I mentioned my name and that I was looking to speak to Officer Sampson about my grandparent’s accident.  The voice asked me what the name of my grandparents was. I informed him their name was Rickel.  The person must have recognized the name and immediately offered me condolences.  He also said that Officer Sampson would be right there and to walk into the station when the door lock buzzed open.  After walking into the brightly lit room, I observed a fairly young and rugged looking man, about 26 or 27, in street clothes walking down the hall towards me.  Officer Sampson walked up to me and shook my hand as he introduced himself and added, “Mr. Carter, I am sorry for your loss,” with genuine anguish showing on his face.

With a nod to a
n area of desks, Sampson asked me to follow him.  “Have a seat Mike; I want to go over the report with you.”  After sitting down in the chair in front of the desk, the Officer placed a 10-page report in front of me.  “Matt, this is the current report minus some of the paperwork still being compiled. The pile will grow significantly due to a fatality being involved. Let me give you a few minutes to read it and then I can answer any questions you have.”  The first thing I noticed after opening the file was the redacted information in the report.  I guess they did not want to give anyone any information that could result in family members going after the other party.  Getting sicker to my stomach as I read each page of the report, I quickly summarized that my grandparents were on their way back from dinner at their favorite local restaurant.  Even though they were wealthy, they loved to take advantage of “Early Bird” specials.  They also liked an early meal since they usually hit the sack before nine at night.

The report further stated that party #2, Nana and Grandpa were party #1
, was travelling South on Route 206, while Party #1 was travelling North on 206, which is not a divided road.  The vehicle of party #2, a 2009 Chrysler 300 Sedan, crossed over into the lane of party #1 creating a head on collision with party #1 driving in a 1984 Mercedes 500 SEC sedan .  Estimated speeds of both parties were 45-50 miles per hour.  The report stated that upon arrival on the scene of the accident by the EMT squad, it was determined that both male and female occupants of the vehicle of party#1 had expired.  One male, in the vehicle of party #2, was alive but with weak vital signs.  The fire department and rescue squad resorted to using the
Jaws of Life
to extract the lone occupant of the vehicle.  The EMT’s stabilized the injured party onsite and transported the driver to the Bridgewater Hospital.

The other driver survived mainly due to airbags
, but was in critical condition.  A note appended to the report stated that the blood alcohol content was 1.6, which was well over the legal limit.  How did someone get that tanked that early in the evening was what I wanted to know?  With an unconscious sigh, I put the report down and with my elbows on the desk started rubbing my temples.  The reality of the situation was starting to set in and the stress was building in me.  “Mike, Mr. Carter,” I heard.  I looked up at the officer who then asked, “Do you have any questions regarding the report?”  Shaking my head no, I did ask him where my grandparents where.  He said “Mike, in situations like this the bodies are brought to the Somerset County morgue where the families can be make arrangements for them.  The Officer then asked if I had any other family members that I could call.  With a sort of a croak and a laugh at my predicament, I explained to him my family situation and said, “I have no idea what I should be doing at this time.”

A half hour later
, I left there with numerous phone numbers and contacts including those for lawyers, funeral home directors, vehicle holding yard and even grief counselors.  Everyone at the station got together and of ran down the process that most people might do in my situation. I must have said ‘thank you’ a million times since I felt that they were really going out of their way to help me.   I felt a little better after I left, but I also realized as I was driving back to the house that there were 100’s of other loose ends that needed attention.  Thoughts of what to do with the house, belongings, lawyer stuff and simple things like making sure bills got paid, flashed through my head at a frantic pace.

Glancing over at the newspaper, I suddenly slammed on the
brakes on pulled onto the shoulder of the road.  Grabbing the newspaper, I started scanning the pages to see if there was any report of my grandparent’s accident.  Right there on page 2, was a headline, ‘
Somerset County Couple Killed in Somerset Accident
.’  The article went on to rehash what the accident report had covered, but also named the driver of the other car as Brian Riordan, 42 of Stroudsburg, PA.  The local Pharmaceutical firm he worked for had recently promoted the driver Riordan.  He and a couple of co-workers had gone over to a local tavern after work and the rest we already know.  The article did go on to say how my grandparents were long-time residents of Peapack and were actively involved in local charities and events.

T
he first thing I noticed when pulling into my grandparent’s driveway was the number of cars.  With the hint of a smile, I realized that at least one of the cars here belonged to Fiona.  She was my on again off again girlfriend for the last 6 years.  We were currently more off again since we both had too many irons in the fire that we really did not have the time to date anyone exclusively.  The real story behind us was that we were better at being great friends than boyfriend girlfriend and had always supported each other whenever needed.  The other cars I didn’t recognize, but as I stepped down from the pickup truck, the front door opened and a trail of people came out of the house into the drive.

First out of door was Fiona
, who literally bounded down the front steps and ran towards me.  Now Fiona was gorgeous, long brownish wavy hair, big blue eyes that always sparkled with some hidden humor and a tall lithe athletic body.  She came up to me and jumped into my arms, I did notice that there were tears in her eyes.  “Mike”, she said, “I am so sorry about Nana and Gramps, I know how much they meant to you.”  Hugging her and choking on my words, I said “Fiona, I was hoping you were around, I really needed that hug…I know how much you cared about them yourself.”

With one arm still around Fiona
, I saw Fiona’s mom, Meagan, right behind her.  A little shorter than her daughter, Mrs. Paschel shared many of the same features.  “Michael, I don’t know what to say, they were such nice people and cared so much about you and our community. We are all going to miss them so very much.”  She said this as she hugged me on my free side.  “Thanks Mrs. P,” I said.  Next, and slapping me on my back, were two friends from high school and former team mates on the football and wrestling squads, Sean and Steve.  Behind them were my friend and neighbor Taylor and his girlfriend Kristen.  Fiona saw me looking around, knew what I was thinking, and started to tell me that Bill was on a boat off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard doing his marine studies and could not catch up with us.  “Mike, Bill wanted me to tell you that he is sorry he cannot be here for you right now and he will miss your grandparents.” Everyone was talking at the same time about the accident, how sad it was and asking how I was doing.  All this attention rather freaked me out.  Mrs. P was the only one that seemed to notice this and speaking the loudest, ordered everyone to let Mike breathe a bit and head back inside to the kitchen.

Walking
from the foyer towards the back of the house, I was glad I had other people around me.  I knew I had to make some important and tough decisions and there was nobody I trusted more than those that were here with me now.  Nana’s favorite place was her kitchen since she loved to cook and bake, which was probably the reason they always had people over…all she needed was the slightest excuse to cook for someone.  The kitchen’s large old-fashioned trestle table with benches on the sides and chairs at the ends, dominated the room.  This table could sit ten easily and accommodate two more if needed without anyone feeling cramped.  Even though most of the house is traditional, the kitchen was a modern marvel of built in stainless steel appliances, a double wall mounted oven, commercial grade Viking gas stovetop and about 50 feet of black marble with gold flakes.  Handmade Cherry cabinetry finished off the kitchen with enough storage space that would have made anyone envious.

The conversation went back and forth for about a half hour as I recanted my discussions earlier with the Peapack police department and caught up on what everyone had been doing since I last saw them.  Meagan then
steered the conversation around to more sensitive but important topics.  “Mike, you know that my father passed away last year and with my mom already gone, I became the executor of his estate.  I was ill prepared for everything that needed addressing back then, so I am sure that you have a numerous questions regarding what you need to do.  Do you know who you grandparent’s lawyer is and if they had a will on file?”  The first part of the question I actually knew the answer to.  My grandparent’s lawyer, Julius Filamore, was actually a very good friend of my gramps.  They shared a space at the annual Steeplechase event for the last 10 years and he was a regular at their house, eating Nana’s dinners and sipping from gramps scotch collection.  He was also a great person, and I actually smacked myself on my forehead and mentally chastised myself for not remembering to call him first.

When I relayed this information,
Mrs. P confirmed that we should get his number and call him before making any funeral arrangements.  Mrs. P added, “The older a person gets the more meticulous they get about defining how they want to be handled in the case of death.”  I walked to the phone in the kitchen to look for an address book or even the Verizon telephone book.  While I stood there thumbing through miscellaneous papers, I noticed the message light blinking on the phone.  After debating with myself for a second on whether or not I should listen, I reached over and hit the play button. 

The first couple of call
s gave me a chill since people were leaving messages to my grandparents as if they were still alive, such as confirming lunch dates and the weekly Bridge game.  The messages then changed to condolences, as word of their death must have traveled.  The last message was from Mr. Filamore to me.  He sounded very subdued as he conveyed his condolences and said, “Mike, I have just read over your grandparent’s last will and testament and need to go over a few items with you as soon as possible.”  He continued and said, “They were very well organized and had detailed almost all aspects of how they want things handled in the event of their death.” Call me as soon as you get this message no matter what time it is.”  He then rattled off his home, office and cell phone number, which I hurriedly wrote down.

The room had gotten very
quiet, as I had been listening to the messages over the speaker so everyone now knew what I knew.  I looked at Fiona and her mom and asked if they could listen to Julius together with me.  Both shook their heads yes, so I started through the hallway back to the front of the house where gramps had his office.  With Fiona and Mrs. P right behind me, I opened the solid walnut doors to the office, flipped on overhead lights, and sat in the large leather chair behind the desk.  Fiona and her mom sat in the two smaller leather chairs in front of the desk and waited for me to make the call. 

I
tried Julius on his mobile phone since it was a Saturday afternoon.  As I started to dial, my eyes took in my gramps pride and joy, his man cave, his office.  The humidor on the side table was chock full of quality cigars and his pull down bar, part of a massive combination bookcase and cabinet, was in the down position showing off an impressive array of expensive brandy and scotch.  Over the mantle of an exquisite stone fireplace, was a 60-inch LED television.  Somehow or other, all the Internet and cable connections, DVR and surround sound system components were carefully hidden from view.