Where Does My Heart Belong? (6 page)

CHAPTER
15

After Christmas, I meet
with Fred Holmes.  I knew Grandma was wealthy but I am mind boggled at what he
tells me.  Her net worth is somewhere around fifteen million dollars.   She
owns the house, the jet, a recording studio in Seattle, and a huge portfolio of
investments.

“You are the principal
heir to your Grandmother’s estate,” Fred tells me.  “She has left bequeaths to
multiple charities and people who work for her but other than that the
remainder of the estate goes to you.  She wants you to become familiar with all
of her holdings so in the event that something should happen to her you will be
prepared to take over.  Another thing, about 5 years ago she set up a two
million dollar trust fund for you that would be available when you’re 25.  You
just turned 25 last month, so the trust is now yours.”

I’m about to stroke out. 
This is unbelievable. “Grandma, get in here,” I scream.  “Get in here.”

“She can’t hear you,”
Fred says.  “She took off to run a few errands.”

“Oh my God, Fred, I can’t
believe this.  I never expected anything like a trust fund and I don’t know the
first thing about investments, how could she think I could handle all of this.”

“That’s what I’m here for
and her other attorney’s and financial advisors as well.  We can advise you but
ultimately the final decisions on how to handle the money will be yours.  Your
Grandma didn’t know anything about finance either when she inherited from her
daughter but she learned, the same way you will.  You are not alone in this,
Libby.  We will meet many more times to get you familiar with her assets.  Now,
it’s almost lunchtime, let me take you out for an extravagant lunch to
celebrate.”

Trying not to cry, I run
to the bathroom.  I can’t believe what he’s told me.  I’m a millionaire; I’ll
never have to worry about money for the rest of my life.  Never, ever, did I
expect anything like this. 

After an exquisite lunch,
when we get back to the house, Grandma is there and I hug her and start to cry.

“Shh, shh, child.  Don’t
cry, you knew that everything would be yours one day.”

“I know, Grandma, but I
didn’t know it would be so much, how in the world will I ever be able to handle
all this?”

“You’ll learn, the same
way I did.  Now dry your tears and come sit down with me.  I want to talk to
you about something else.  How about a drink, you look like you could use one?”

“You bet, how about a
nice large bottle of Early Times straight up?”

She ignores my request
and brings us each a glass of wine.  “Do you still want to go to Stanford and
have them look at you?” she asks.  “I made an appointment last week and they
sent me the forms to fill out to have your medical records transferred to
them.”

“Yes, I’ll go, when is
the appointment?”

“January 17
^th
,
I hope that’s enough time for your records to be sent.  Be prepared to stay in
hospital overnight.  They said it would depend on their initial findings and
whether or not you needed more comprehensive tests.”

“Okay, give me the forms
and I’ll fill them out right now.  How about we hand deliver them back to
Stanford, I could use a change of scenery.  Oh, and that’s another thing
Grandma, I want to buy a car so I can drive myself around instead of relying on
Henry all the time.  Nothing fancy, just some old clunker.”

“Good idea about hand
delivering them.  We’ll go tomorrow, I’ll call Henry now and let him know.  I
think it would be great for you to have your own car but there’ll be no
‘clunkers’.   No granddaughter of mine is going to drive around the city in a
piece of junk.  You have money now so you need to start acting like it.  Maybe
we can stop at some dealerships tomorrow on the way back from Stanford and pick
up some brochures, that is unless you already know what you want.”

“Okay, but I want to hold
off on buying anything until after the Stanford appointment.  If I have to have
another surgery it will be a long time before I’m driving again.”

The next day Henry drives
us to Stanford where we drop off the papers for my medical records and then we
stop at a General Motors dealership where I collect brochures on all their
passenger cars.  One car in the showroom catches my eye.  It’s a fire engine
red 1970 Oldsmobile Cutlass convertible.  I spend a few minutes looking it over
and sitting in it, this one will definitely be in the running.  A smiling
salesperson comes over and introduces himself, handing me his card.  I tell him
I’m just looking and won’t be ready to buy until later in the month.  He
doesn’t pressure me, just smiles his gorgeous smile, and tells me to call him
when I’m ready.  All of a sudden, my mind starts playing tricks on me.  The
smiling salesman disappears and it’s Red standing there grinning his happy,
infectious grin.  His grin doesn’t make me happy, though, it makes me want to
scream so I jump out of the red convertible and rush out the door to where
Grandma and Henry and waiting. 

“What’s wrong, Libby,
what happened in there, I can tell that you’re upset.”

“Nothing, Grandma, I just
saw something I didn’t expect to see,” and I show her a brochure about the red
convertible.  “I’ve never seen a more beautiful car in my whole life; I think
this may be the one.”

“It’s beautiful,
sweetheart, you just buy anything you want, but be sure and take Fred with you
when you make a final deal so you don’t get hornswoggled.”

“Hornswoggled, geez,
Grammie, I haven’t heard that word in centuries.  We really need to hip up your
language,” I tease.  “Hey, Henry, instead going straight home let’s go through
Haight Ashbury so Grandma can hear how the hippies talk.”

“Yes, Miss Libby.”

“No way, Henry, we are
not going to Haight Ashbury.  There is nothing wrong with the way I talk.  It’s
a lot better than what you young people are saying today.  I don’t need to go
to Haight to hear stuff like ‘far out, groovy, hang loose’, what kind of talk
is that?”

“Just the talk of times,
Grammie, the talk of the times.  I can’t wait until I get that convertible. 
We’ll be stylin’ then when we drive through the Haight with the top down. 
You’ll be able to witness hip first hand, all courtesy of the folks who brought
us the summer of love 1967,” I laugh.

“I think you’re losing
your mind, girl.  Those hippies and their nonsense don’t interest me at all.”

When we get back home, I
go down to my room and lay down on my bed.  The image I had of Red has upset me
more than I realized.  God, I want him.  Even though I hate what he did to me,
I want to be with him, I want to spend the rest of my life with him, but I know
that’s not going to happen.  I sob into my pillow and finally fall asleep.

After I wake up, I go up
to the living room and hear Grandma talking on the phone.   She’s telling
someone that she knows there’s something else bothering me aside from losing
the baby.  “If you can find out what it is, let me know.  I haven’t wanted to
press her, but I know she’s depressed about something.  If I knew what it was
then maybe I’ll be able to help her.  Thank you, Fred, I love you, and I’ll be
eternally grateful.”

Oh, God, she’s just
sicked one of the greatest interrogators in the country onto me.  From what
I’ve heard about him, this guy could get God himself to confess to a heinous
crime.  At least I know what they’re up to and I’ll be ready for the
onslaught. 

The next day, here he
comes.  We’re meeting to go over some of Grandma’s portfolio holdings and he
explains to me why she has chosen them.  Most of them are related to family,
children, health, and wellness and then he starts asking me about my own family
and upbringing.   I tell him I’m an only child, born to middle-aged parents who
were overprotecting, domineering, and physically abusive.  In addition, my
mother was an alcoholic.  I didn’t get on with them but Grandma was always
there, just a phone call away, to support me.  I only have two close friends
back in Eagle Valley.  The most important person in my life is gone.  I let him
think it was Desi, the father of my baby.  He doesn’t press me anymore.  Geez,
I think I’ve done it, maybe I’ve out-smarted Mr. Prosecutor.

CHAPTER
16

January
1970 – March 1972

On January 17
^th
I go Stanford and let the doctors examine me.  They compare my x-rays from
Seattle with ones they take and decide that I don’t need another surgery.  They
want me to have yearly check-ups and not be involved in any activities where I
could get injured by a fall.  If I have to get on a step stool or ladder, wear
a helmet.  I don’t tell them that horseback riding is one of my favorite things
to do, one, which I will never give up.

Happy with the results I
return to Grandma’s, ready for a chance at a new life.  I hope I can put the
past behind me and concentrate on having a happy future.  Grandma is ecstatic
that I don’t need another surgery and promises that that we are going to have a
splendacious life.

I buy the beautiful red
convertible and
spend the next couple of years studying the
stock market and learning about Grandma's portfolio holdings from Fred and her
financial advisors.  I find that I have an aptitude for finance and finally
feel confident that I could take over if Grandma wasn't able to.

I
get involved with her charity work but I'm not too crazy about that.  I enjoy
her close friends but there are other snooty ones that I don't like. 
A
couple of her friends set me up on blind dates.  One of them turns out to be a
real disaster.  This guy named Bill takes me out to a really nice restaurant 
and seems decent enough but at the end of the meal he tells me he doesn’t have
enough money for the tip, will I get it?  I do, but it pisses me off.  Then
while we’re outside waiting for a cab, he says he’d like me to come back to his
place for a nightcap and starts telling me all about his sex toy collection. 
This really burns me up, so I haul off and punch him in the stomach.  When the
taxi pulls up, he’s heaving his guts out on the sidewalk.    I jump in the taxi
and leave him there still puking.  I hate these lousy men.  They all think that
women will whore for dinner and a couple of drinks.  I’ve had it with the lot
of them.  No more, if I have to spend my life as a spinster, so be it. Besides,
I know I’ll never love any man as much as I did Red. 

After I get home, I tell
Grandma all about it and she is horrified.  Disgusted at Bill, and ashamed of my
behavior.

“Tell your friends I
don’t want any more dates.  I’ve had it with men.  If I decide I want one I’ll
hunt him down myself,” I tell her.

Twice a week we volunteer
at San Francisco’s large food bank.  This charity is my favorite.  Most of the
time we help package up the food and get it ready to be distributed, but one
day the manager asks me if I will go out back to the loading dock and wait for
a produce truck that’s due to come in.  “Call me on the intercom when he gets
here and I’ll send some guys out to unload it.”  “Sure,” I tell him, and I head
out back.  About 10 minutes later, I see a “Vera-Good Farms” truck pulling into
the yard.  The driver pulls up to the loading dock and then jumps down and
comes over to me.

“Hi, I’ve got some fruits
and vegetables for you here.”

“Great, I’ll call and
tell them you’re here.”

“I’m Tony Vera, with
Vera-Good Farms,” he tips his straw cowboy hat off his head and reaches out to
shake my hand.  Oh, my goodness, a gentleman, I haven’t seen this in a long time.

“I’m Libby Kingsley, I
volunteer here,” I tell him as I shake his hand.

“Are you any relation to
Jessie Kingsley?”

“I’m her granddaughter.”

“It’s nice to meet you. 
Jessie is one of my favorite people.   Our families have known each other for a
long time.”

“Where do you get fruits
and vegetables this time of year?” I ask him.

“They’ve been in our cold
storage since harvest.”

“Oh.”

While we’re waiting for
the men to come unload the truck, I take a good look at him.  He looks Latino,
probably around 30, about 5’10” with a good build, coal black hair, brown eyes,
and a killer smile.   He’s drop-dead sexy.  One of the best-looking men I have
ever seen.   Then I hear a little voice say,
“Quiero conocerla también.”
I look up at the truck and there’s a little girl in the window waving at me. 
“¿Cual
es su nombre?”
she calls out.

“Mi nombre es Libby,”
I tell her.  “Is that your daughter, what a beautiful little girl?”

“Yes, that’s Angelita;
she’s four, and the love of my life.”

“What a heartbreaker.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m
planning on keeping her locked up until she’s 30,” he laughs.

He goes and brings her
down from the truck.  She’s a tiny little thing with long wavy dark brown hair
and startling blue eyes.  She reaches out to shake my hand with a big smile on
her face. 

“Angie doesn’t speak
English.  I want her to be bi-lingual so we speak only Spanish at home.  She’ll
pick up English soon enough once she goes to school.”

By this time, the men are
here to unload the truck and Tony wants to go inside to see Grandma.  When
Angelita sees her she runs to her screaming,
“Abuela, Abuela, te quiero
Abuela.”
 

Grandma reaches down,
cuddles, and kisses her, saying, “I love you too, Angie.” 

“Well, I see you’ve met
Tony and Angelita,” Grandma says to me.  “I have known his family for many
years.  They are some of my most cherished friends.  I just wish I could talk
with this beautiful child, when in the world are you going to let her learn
English, Tony?”

“Soon enough, Jessie, but
love is the universal language, and you and Angie don’t seem to have any
trouble there.”

“I guess that’s true but
I sure would like to communicate with her in English.  Tony, would you and
Angie like to have lunch with Libby and me.  We’re going to the park, across
the street.  Meg has packed us enough food for an army.”

“Sure, Jessie, but first
let me make sure the truck is unloaded and moved away from the loading dock.”

Grandma, Angie, and I
take Meg’s lunch and go across the street to the park. 

“So what do you think of
him?” she asks me. 

“He sure is one good
looking hottie,” I tell her.  “His wife is a lucky woman.”

“He’s not married.  I’ll
fill you in when we get home.  Fancy him, do you?”

“No.  I’ve had enough men
disasters to last me a lifetime; I’m not interested in having any more.”

When
Tony joins us, we eat our lunches under a big old tree.  He offers to share his
potato chips with me and I give him two of the oatmeal raisin cookies that Meg
baked.  He's a wonderful conversationalist and divides his attention between
the three of us, never leaving any of us feel left out.  When it's time to go back
to work, he reaches out, takes my hand, and kisses it.  "I'm glad I got to
meet you, Libby, I hope I’ll get to see you again."  Angie hugs Grandma
and me and then they're back in the truck headed to their next destination. 
What a wonderful, nice man, I think to myself.  It’s too bad I’m soured on men,
because contrary to what I told Grandma, this is one guy I’d really like to get
to know better.