Sharing Spaces

“The funeral was held today and the admiral is being cremated, per his wishes. The lawyer would have called you directly with all of this information but the only phone number he had was this one.”

Senna took another sip of tea. It was strong and good. She was tired to the point of feeling dizzy. “I’ll call him first thing Monday morning.”

“There’s property that will have to be disposed of,” her mother said.

“What kind of property?”

“The lawyer mentioned a house, a vehicle, an airplane and a fishing camp.”

Senna frowned over the curl of steam that rose from her mug. “Maybe he’d sell it all for a consignment fee. He could mail or fax me all the legal forms I need to sign, I could notarize them and send them back….”

“You’d better go and look the situation over so you know exactly what the estate consists of before making any decisions,” her mother advised.

Senna shook her head. “Mom, I don’t think I can get away from work. We’re just getting into the busy season.”

“You haven’t taken a vacation in several years,” her mother pointed out. “Labrador sounds like a wild place, and you like wild places, Senna. I’m sure your aunt would let you have some time off.”

“Yes, she would, but that wouldn’t be much of a vacation. Are you sure the admiral wasn’t married?”

“Positive. He called it quits after wife number three. If you took two weeks off, you’d have time to explore some of the country and time to think about some important things, like your future with Tim, and your job as sales director at the inn.”

Senna lifted her chin out of her palm and blinked the sleep from her eyes. “What makes you think I need to do that?”

“I’m your mother. I know how much you miss being a wildlife biologist, and I know you aren’t in love with Tim Cromwell even though he’s hopelessly in love with you and has been for years.”

Senna gazed at her, amazed. “As a matter of fact, Tim and I broke up a few weeks ago. We’re still friends and probably always will be, but you’re right. I wasn’t in love with him.”

Her mother’s eyebrows raised. “How did Tim feel about that?”

“He took it pretty hard. He still thinks I’ll eventually realize that he’s the man for me. Tim’s a good guy and he deserves to have a woman who’s crazy about him. He’ll be a lot better off without me. And yes, I miss being a biologist, but I like working at the inn. I’ve learned a lot, and the pay is a lot better than what I was making working for the state.”

Her mother wisely refrained from commenting. She took a sip of tea and continued, “The lawyer told me your grandfather’s been living in Labrador ever since he retired from the Navy shortly after your father died.”

“Why Labrador?”

“Apparently he was big into fishing, and the fishing’s quite good there.”

“Fishing.” Senna dropped her chin back into her palm with a sigh. “That figures. The old sea wolf couldn’t stay away from the water.”

Her mother stirred another dollop of honey into her tea. “Senna, the admiral’s last request was that you handle his estate, and I think you should honor it. You are a McCallum, after all.”

THE JOURNEY FROM CASTINE to Labrador was a circuitous one at best, and expensive to boot. From Bangor, Senna flew to Quebec City, from Quebec City to Wabush, from Wabush to Goose Bay. It didn’t seem too difficult to connect the dots, but flights to Goose Bay weren’t like flights to Boston. One didn’t have many choices, so she had to lay over a night in Quebec before catching the flights to Wabush and Goose Bay. Arriving at 2:00 p.m., she immediately phoned the lawyer to find out where her grandfather’s house was located. There was no point in racking up more expenses at a hotel if she could stay there while she got his affairs in order. Two weeks was two weeks, though with any luck she’d have everything done in half that time.

“Well, m’dear,” the lawyer, an older-sounding gentleman whose name was Lindo Granville, said upon hearing her out. “The thing is, your grandfather’s house isn’t exactly in Goose Bay, y’see?”

Senna tried to place the accent, which sounded very Celtic. “Well, if you could tell me how to get there, I could stop by your office for the key.”

“Key? I doubt the place is locked up, m’dear. Do you have a car? I’d be happy to drive you over if you don’t.”

“I’ve already rented one, thank you. I’m at the airport now. I thought I’d stop by your office first, if that’s all right. I’d like to start settling my grandfather’s estate as soon as possible.”

Lindo Granville was as pleasant in person as he’d been on the phone. He was a ruddy-faced man in his late sixties who looked as if he’d spent much of his life out of doors, not ensconced in an office pushing papers around his desk. He invited Senna in, poured her a cup of strong, black tea, finally found what he was looking for on his cluttered desk, and handed her the admiral’s last will and testament. “It’s up to date, he was in town just last week,” Granville said. “We had lunch together and he made a few amendments prior to that.”

“He must have known he was going to die soon,” Senna said, steeling herself as she looked down at the legal papers.

“Yes.” Granville nodded. “Didn’t feel the least bit sorry for himself, though. He was more worried about his business partner.”

“Business partner?” Senna glanced up. This was a new twist.

“John Hanson. They were good friends. Hanson stayed with him ’til the very end, so’s the admiral could die at the lake house. He didn’t want to die in a hospital, y’see, and I don’t blame him one bit for that, but he needed a lot of care towards the end. You’ll meet John Hanson by and by, if he survived your grandfather’s wake. The last time I saw him he was full of screech and dancing with my sister, Goody.”

“Screech?”

“Screech is Labrador’s own brand of hooch. Rum. Powerful stuff, and he’d drunk a powerful dose, y’see.”

Senna pictured a drunken old man clasping a drunken old woman at a classic Irish wake and inwardly winced. “What kind of business did they share?”

“A fishing lodge. Outfitting and guiding,” Granville said. “They were just getting started when the admiral was stricken. If you read the will, you’ll see that he left everything to you.”

The lawyer’s words struck like a bolt of lightning. “Everything?”

“Yes, m’dear. Everything. A word of caution, there’s very little remaining in his bank account, the lodge’s construction costs took the most of it, and there are some liens that need to be paid, but the properties are worth a considerable sum.”

Senna scanned the words rapidly. Sure enough, there it was, in black and white. Admiral Stuart McCallum had left all his worldly possessions to her. Senna sat back in her chair, dumbfounded. “May I take a copy of the will with me? I can read it more closely tonight.”

“Of course, m’dear, and as soon as you’re ready, I’ll help you through the probate procedures. You’ll need to be legally appointed as his executor and we can start that process right now if you want to sign a few papers. Because we’re dealing with international paperwork, everything will take a little more time, I’m afraid. Do you have a lawyer you’d like me to work with on your end?”

Senna nodded and handed him the business card of the firm who had handled her father’s affairs. “I’d like to fast-track this process and I’d appreciate your help. I’m hoping to sell his share of the business as soon as possible.”

Thirty minutes later the legal matters were in the works and Senna was ready to leave. “Now then,” Granville told her. “You’ll need to drive to North West River and ask anyone there where the admiral’s house is. They’ll tell you.” He hesitated. “Do you have a place to stay?”

“I plan to stay there, of course,” Senna said briskly.

Granville paused. “The thing is, m’dear, the admiral was a bachelor and for that matter, so is John Hanson.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive whatever state of bachelorhood his house is in, Mr. Granville. I grew up with two brothers who were the biggest slobs on earth. Really, I’ll be fine. Thank you again for all your help.”

There was another pause. “Well, you see, m’dear, the lake-house property was part of the business, and half belongs to John Hanson.”

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him, because he did seem genuinely troubled. “I’m sure I’ll find the half that was my grandfather’s.”

Granville’s frown of concern deepened, and Senna wondered if perhaps John Hanson was so old as to be a little bit daffy. “You’re welcome to stay with the wife and me, m’dear. We’d love the company.”

“That’s very kind of you to offer, Mr. Granville, but I need some closure, and I’m hoping to find it at my grandfather’s house. Besides, Mr. Hanson and I have some business matters to discuss, and the sooner we get that dialogue started the better.”

Twenty minutes later, Senna was driving through a land that was wilder than any she’d ever seen. She was used to the rocky coast of Maine, but Labrador was much more remote and far less populated, and once out of Goose Bay there was only one road. She caught glimpses of the water through the fringe of black spruce on her right. The highway map designated this as Lake Melville. The drive to North West River didn’t take long. By 4:00 p.m. she was there, and, heeding Granville’s directions, she pulled to a stop across from the first person she saw, rolled down the window, and asked, “Excuse me, but would you happen to know where the admiral’s house is?”

The towheaded blue-eyed boy was pushing a bike with a flat tire. His expression was lively and open, and he said, “Take the next left that leads up the south shore of the lake. You’ll hear ’em, when you gets close. The admiral’s dogs,” he explained, noting her expression. “You’ll hear ’em, but you’re too late. You missed the wake by a day. It was a good one, too, from all I heard.” Then off he went, pushing his bike along the gravel road.