Chapter 46

I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in one of the stalls. Crouching beside the toilet, I cried and dry-heaved. My hands shook uncontrollably, and my breaths came in and out raggedly.

I knew I had to do something about my diagnosis, but what? Telling anyone about it was out of the question. Going back to the doctor was useless, too; it was terminal, after all.

Yet there was so much to do regarding my…death. Funeral arrangements. A will.

There just wasn’t enough time—but I had an idea of where to start.

I heard my phone ding in my purse. When I pulled it out, I found a message from Arthur.

R u OK? We can leave if u want.

I took a few minutes to force myself to calm down. With still shaking hands, I typed out a reply.

I’m fine. Be right out.

I wiped the tears off my cheeks, splashed some water on my face, and stretched my lips into a smile before returning to what promised to be a long dinner.

The next day, I called my divorce attorney, Andrew Thompson, for recommendations for an estate planning attorney. He gave me three, and I called each of them that day. The best appointment I could get was a few weeks later, the same day as Lily’s yacht birthday party.

I took it.

The appointment was at nine in the morning, so I would be able to finish in plenty of time to style Lily for her party and get myself ready, too. All I had to do was survive the weeks leading up to then.

Fortunately, despite all the recent disruptions in my life, things returned almost to normal during those weeks. I spent more time in my home gym than at Stand Up, so I didn’t provide any more ammunition to the trolls and the hate started to die down. I did not see Barnett during this time, but he often haunted my thoughts—and my dreams.

My thoughts not focused on Barnett were consumed by death. Michael’s, Charlie’s, my upcoming demise. Michael’s death anniversary came and went with me spending the day cocooned in a blanket, ignoring all calls and texts, which I had to answer for later.

Finally, my appointment with the estate planning attorney arrived.

I took my Corolla, which had been repaired, to remain relatively unrecognizable. I dressed in a modest white blouse and black skirt, which I frequently fidgeted with as I sat in the waiting room. A string of pearls completed the outfit.

“Ms. Leonard?” the secretary called. “Mrs. Hawthorne will see you now.”

The secretary escorted me down a hall to the last door on the left. A gold plaque on the door read, “Cindy Hawthorne, Partner”.

The secretary opened the door.

“Mrs. Hawthorne, Ms. Leonard is here to see you,” she said.

“Come in,” Hawthorne said, barely glimpsing at us.

After I walked in, the secretary closed the door behind me. Awkwardly, I took a seat directly across the desk from Hawthorne.

“Thank you for seeing me today, Mrs. Hawthorne,” I said.

“It’s my pleasure. Please, call me Cindy.”

She reached over the desk to shake my hand.

“So, tell me, what brings you here?”

I pursed my lips and stared at my lap.

“Well, I have…terminal stomach cancer—” my voice shook as I spoke— “and I need to get my affairs in order.”

I looked up and saw Hawthorne’s eyes soften.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” she said in a firm yet sympathetic tone. “Rest assured, you have come to the right place. We will take care of everything, from final arrangements to distribution of your worldly possessions.”

I nodded and gripped at my skirt, trying to not feel overwhelmed.

“So,” she said as she opened a legal pad of paper, “where shall we begin?”

The process was a lot more detailed and would require many more sessions than I had thought. Since I was most concerned with my final arrangements and where my earthly possessions would end up, we focused on those first.

Final arrangements were easy. I decided to be cremated, with my ashes to be given to my parents to do with what they will. They could handle the job of picking out an urn and deciding where to put my ashes.

Distribution of my possessions proved harder.

“I just don’t want my ex-husband, Bob Hayes, to get any of it,” I said. I cringed at how vindictive that sounded even to me.

Hawthorne, however, merely nodded and made a note on her pad.

“Makes sense,” she said. “Anyone you do want it to go to? A spouse or children?”

My heart hurt at the mention of a spouse and children.

“No. I…uh…haven’t remarried and don’t have any children,” I murmured.

“Okay. Anyone else? Siblings or parents?”

“I…yeah…I should leave some money to my parents…”

I was having a hard time concentrating. I could only think about how I should have divorced Bob sooner, how maybe I would have a spouse who loved me and maybe—just maybe—a child or two, if only I had seen Bob for what he was.

“How much?” Hawthorne asked.

“I suppose…can I think about this? Maybe we can list the people and organizations I want to leave stuff to first, then come back to what exactly?”

“Sure thing. I know how hard this can be.”

She offered me a tissue, and it was only then that I realized my cheeks were damp.

I took the tissue and dabbed gently at my face and eyes.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

I sighed.

“I’m sorry for getting so emotional. I’m just realizing that I have a lot of regrets that I don’t have time to undo now…”

Hawthorne smiled sadly.

“Trust me, I know. I encounter this all the time. People often don’t realize what they can do or could have done until it’s too late—and it doesn’t get any later than death.”

I stared down at the tissue in my hand. She was right. If I had only realized I could do better for myself sooner, I might have a loving spouse and children to help me through this difficult time and to leave my fortune to.

“So,” Hawthorne said after a few minutes of silence, “where were we?”

I left Hawthorne’s office not fully done with my will but confident that my parents, Lily, and a variety of charities—not Bob—would inherit all my money and physical possessions. Even with the sadness of remembering what I could no longer have, my heart felt lighter at having some things arranged.

Nothing could take away the pain of my pending demise. However, knowing that things might be a little easier for my loved ones when the time came gave me an odd sense of peace.

It was one in the afternoon when I returned to my Corolla. As I took my seat, my phone’s alarm started buzzing.

2 P.M. – GET LILY READY FOR PARTY

I had to head to the docks and get Lily and myself ready for the party by 5 p.m. If I hurried, I would just make it to the yacht on time—barely.