~ Stetson Mold ~

by

Lynette Hall Hampton

A strand of hair dislodged itself from the French braid I put it in this morning, and I twiddled it between my thumb and forefinger as I stared at the papers in front of me, trying to appear busy. I was too nervous to concentrate on the charts spread across my desk. I glanced at my watch. It was ten past noon. In a few minutes I’d leave to meet with the lawyer from Charlotte to find out why I’d been named in my late uncle’s will.

I barely knew Stetson Varner and though I called him uncle, he was actually my great-uncle on my mother's side of the family. I remembered visiting him a few times with my grandfather when I was a little girl. Those visits often left me feeling afraid. Uncle Stetson was thin with a full beard, which in my childish mind made him mysterious and a little frightening, though I was intrigued by him. During our visits, I’d sit quietly and listen to his conversations with Grandpa Varner and conjure up all kinds of ideas about him. Sometimes I wondered if he weren’t Abraham or Moses come back to life, if that were possible, which I doubted. Uncle Stetson always chewed a cigar, and even at my young age I didn’t think they had cigars when Abraham and Moses were alive. As for me, I didn’t like the smell, but there was one thing I did like about his smoking. Every so often, he’d pause in the conversation and blow a smoke ring at me. I’d smile and he’d wink at me, then I’d hear his deep chuckle.

“Well, Shelly, are you excited about becoming an heiress?” A voice brought me back to the present.

“I guess I am a little.” I smiled at my best friend, Leah Keene. “But I'm sure it'll only be a token bequest. Maybe one of his antiques. He knew how much I liked them because we talked about them the last time I saw him.”

“And that was?”

“Almost two years ago at grandfather’s funeral. He was Stetson’s older brother. We spent a little time discussing business in general, but I never figured out his particular business enterprise. We spent an even longer time discussing politics. Uncle Stetson was an opinionated man, but fair. He listened to my idealistic points of view, then patiently explained why I was wrong. I never understood how I ended up agreeing with him on almost every point. He said I reminded him of himself when he first got out of college, and he thought I’d be a good business woman someday.”

Leah giggled. “Maybe he left you a wad of money and you can start your own business.”

“Don’t be silly. As I said, it’ll probably be an antique. It feels good to be remembered, though.”

“You’re probably right, but I have to admit, I’m curious about what you’re getting.” Leah smiled. Her short brown hair bounced as she shook her head. “It's twelve twenty-five. Shouldn't you get started? The traffic might be heavy on Stratford.”

“I guess I do need to go.” I stood and straightened the front of my blue denim skirt. “Do I look okay? Do I need to redo my hair?”

“Let me tuck that strand back in your braid and you’ll be ready to wow the lawyer.”

I tried to smile away my nervousness. “I'll see you in an hour or so.”

“Let me know the minute you return.”

~ * ~

Red Lobster was crowded when I made my way to the hostess. “I'm meeting a Mr. Eppery.”

“He's already here. I'll show you to his table.”

Aaron Eppery stood as I approached. He was nothing like I’d imagined. He was tall, with blond hair and the most attractive gray-green eyes I'd ever looked into. He was so tanned I wondered if he moonlighted as a lifeguard.

My hand shook a little as I held it out to him. “I'm Michelle Wakefield, Shelly for short.” I wasn’t sure if the shaking was from nerves or his good looks.

“I remember you from the funeral, Ms. Wakefield.” We shook hands.

I dropped his hand and slid into the booth in front of him wondering how I’d missed seeing him at the service. “I don't recall meeting you.”

He sat down. “I don't think we actually met. Someone pointed you out as a relative of Mr. Varner.”

A waiter approached and placed napkins on the table. “May I take your drink order?”

“Iced tea,” I said.

“The same,” he told the waiter.

When the drinks came, Eppery ordered the Captain’s platter and I had the lobster stuffed mushrooms.

“Mr. Eppery,” I said when we were alone again. “I'm curious. Would you please tell me what’s going on?”

“It's really very simple, Ms. Wakefield.” Eppery opened his briefcase and pulled out an official-looking document. “Your uncle had a simple will. He left some specific items to friends and some donations to his favorite charities, but everything else he owned, including his house, the furnishings, his bank accounts and the injection molding company, which he founded, was to be divided equally among everyone in the Varner family who attended his funeral. Since you were the only person from the Varner clan to come, you now own it all.”

“I own what?” I blurted, unable to comprehend what he’d said.

He smiled. “You own everything, Ms. Wakefield, including the molding company. They manufacture plastic parts for various companies.”

“I don't know anything about plastic parts or molding or anything to do with that sort of business,” I stammered. I was in shock. “I was expecting a small bequest. I wasn’t prepared for anything like this.”

He smiled again. “I thought you'd be at a loss so I took the liberty of drawing up papers for you to place the business on the market. We can take care of selling the house later.” He took another set of papers from the briefcase. “If you'll sign here, we'll see how quickly we can unload the business and you can bank the money.”

“No. Wait.” I held up my hands. “You're going too fast for me. I've really inherited a company?” Without giving him time to answer, I rambled on. “I can’t believe Uncle Stetson would leave all of this to me. Maybe something from his house, but not everything. He really left it all to me?” I tried to imagine what had possessed the man to write such an eccentric will. I’d taken some business management courses in college, but owning or running a company was something I wasn’t equipped to do. “I don’t understand…”

“Stetson was a different type of person. One example is the fact that he named his company his first name instead of his last as most people do. Since he never married and had no family of his own, it only stands to reason he’d dispose of his possessions in a unique way.”

Eppery took a deep breath. “But as you yourself said, you know nothing about the business so…”

“Tell me again why my uncle left it to me.”

The attorney explained the clause in the will leaving the property to any member of the Varner family who attended the funeral.

“But what about his other relatives?”

“I think some distant cousins came, but you were the only one from the Varner clan. We checked it out carefully.”

“Are you sure I was the only one from the Varner family there?”

“Yes, Ms. Wakefield. As I said, we checked it out carefully.”

I was still baffled. “Mom and Dad would’ve come, but she had an awful cold and Dad had a golf tournament and the drive from Florida was a long one and…” I would’ve rambled on without ending a sentence or taking a breath if Eppery hadn’t interrupted me.

“It’s too bad they couldn’t make it. They could’ve shared this fortune with you.”

“Of course I’ll share with them, and I’m sorry to act so bewildered.” Before he could answer, my train of thought shifted and I asked, “Why did you let my uncle write such a strange will?”

“I didn’t, Ms. Wakefield. Your uncle wrote it a few years ago. Hal Owens, one of the attorneys at our firm, actually drafted it. Mr. Owens is getting on in years and didn’t feel up to making the trip to meet with you. Since I’ve been serving as the attorney for Stetson Mold for a couple of years, it was only logical I bring you the good news.

“I see.” I wasn’t convinced I really did understand.

Before he could elaborate any further, our food arrived. I bowed my head and he sat quietly while I said a quick prayer of thanksgiving.

When I raised my head, he continued, “Ms. Wakefield, I'm sure you want to settle this matter as soon as possible. Would you like to sign the papers now?”

I picked up my fork and jabbed one of my stuffed mushrooms. “How much money are we talking about, Mr. Eppery?”

“I think we can get at least five hundred thousand. Maybe even six.”

I coughed and almost choked on the mushroom.

“Are you all right?” He leaned over the table and touched my arm.

I nodded. “I'm fine. It was too hot.” The figures whirled in my head. That was half a million dollars. I’d never seen that much money in my life. I could do anything I wanted to do with that money. It would be such a pleasure to help people who needed it and I could spend some on Mom and Dad, who as I’d told Mr. Eppery, would be sharing this with me if they’d been able to attend the service. Though they weren’t poor, since their retirement and move to Florida, they had to live frugally.

“Well, what do you say, Ms. Wakefield? Shall I put the business on the market?”

My first instinct was to say a quick yes. Sell it fast and give me the money. Like most people, I’ve thought I’d like to start a business of my own someday. Maybe a little boutique geared to the working women. If I sold Stetson Mold I'd have plenty of cash to do it, but deep inside there was a little voice telling me to slow down, not to rush things. Having made mistakes in the past by not listening to the little voice, I’d promised myself never to make that mistake again.

I pushed the papers away. “I want to digest all of this, Mr. Eppery. What's the big rush?”