Claire Voyant (18 page)

“I don't believe this.” My father slumped into a chair.

“I lost my one son. Over my dead body was I gonna lose my one grandchild. No sir. Nobody was takin' away my little Claireleh. I knew God gave her to me to make up for having to take Gary. Whadya think? I should go help you find the family so you could give the baby back to the idiot mother who didn't want her in the first place? What kind of life would she have had? The girl had no money, no husband…. I used to find them marijuana cigarettes in her jacket pocket. At least with us Claire could be from a nice Jewish family, she'd get a good education, a good upbringing.”

“I can't believe what I'm hearing,” my mother gasped.

“It's blowing my mind, Gert.” My father's eyes misted. “Our whole lives would have been different if you'd just told us you found the father.”

“No, you mean it would have been better,” I cried. “You mean you wouldn't have had to raise me, or had all this aggravation.”

“That's not what I mean, and you know it. I'm just in a little bit of shock here, okay? I'm not saying our lives would have been better, I'm saying that if we knew about Penelope's father, the whole damn story would have played out differently, and that's a hell of a thing to consider. You make a right turn instead of a left, and the rest of your life is changed forever.”

“But the important thing,” Ben jumped in, “is that it all worked out okay. Gert made a great decision. Claire was raised by a wonderful family.”

“Thank you.” My father closed his eyes and patted his heart. “We did our best.”

“You sure did.” Drew slapped him on the back. “Claire is a great girl.”

Great enough to dump your shallow, self-absorbed fiancée and fall in love with me?

“There is something I'm curious about.” Ben looked at Gert. “And I hope you don't mind my asking. But what exactly did you say to my parents?”

“What do you mean, what did I say?” Grams shrugged. “I told them the God's honest truth. After I got your father on the line, I says, ‘Mr. Fabrikant? My name is Gertrude Moss of 2453 Lawson Lane in Valley Stream, New York, and I'm calling to tell you that your daughter Penelope has had a baby girl with my son Gary. But now he's dead from a car crash, and she ran away, and I was wondering if maybe you heard from her…. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't interrupt your supper.'”

“That's what you said?” Ben laughed. ‘I hope I didn't interrupt your supper'?”

“'Cause I know how people get when their food is getting cold. They don't act nice.”

“Did you speak to my mother, too? I can't believe she knew that their darling daughter had an unwanted pregnancy.”

“Ben. Please.” My father pointed to me. “Claire has feelings, you know.”

I just looked at him. Suddenly he was Mr. Sensitive?

“Sorry, Claire,” Ben said. “I'm just in shock…. You have to understand that my whole life all I ever heard was, Penelope is so beautiful, and Penelope is so talented…she could do no wrong, and I was the rotten bum.”

“I never spoke to the girl's mother,” Grams interrupted. “But believe you me, if I had, I would have told her a thing or two about raising good daughters.”

“So wait, Ma,” said my father. “What did Abe tell you?”

“Oh. Well. First I thought he was playin' tricks on me, asking what Penelope ate for breakfast, if she had any birthmarks. But he was just makin' sure I wasn't one of those people who make up
stories to get money…. And that was it. I only talked to him that one time.”

“Yes, but what did he say about the baby?” my father cried.

“What did he say? He said he couldn't take her, if that's why I was calling. And I couldn't call him no more on account of his wife's high blood pressure, but I could write him letters to tell him how Hannah was doing.”

“And you did that?” I gulped. “You wrote to him?”

“Every month. Never missed a one. Not even when Harry died.”

From the collective gasping, it sounded like we were all on respirators.

“But why, Grams?” I asked. “Why would you bother keeping in touch with a man who obviously didn't give a shit whether he had a granddaughter or not? Did he ever ask to meet me? Did he ever try to get his daughter to come back for me?”

“Why don't you ask him that?” my father sniffed. “You seem to have a direct connection.”

“Would you listen to yourself, Lenny?” my mother yelled. “Enough with the wiseguy remarks.”

“I'm sorry.” I shivered. “I'm finding all of this very hard to believe. From everything I've heard about Abe, he was this wonderful, generous human being who couldn't turn his back on total strangers. Yet he didn't want to bother with his own flesh and blood? It makes no sense.”

“Because he didn't want Penelope to have the baby, see?” Gert said. “He said she didn't deserve you on account of the fact that she was a selfish birdbrain who lived with her head in the clouds, and would make a terrible mother because she couldn't even take care of herself, let alone a small baby.”

“My father actually said that?” Ben smiled.

“Yes, sir.”

“So Grams, if he said he didn't want his daughter to have me, and he didn't want me, why did you keep writing to him? Why didn't you just hang up the phone after that first call and say to hell with this guy?”

“Because I made a deal with him, that's why. A deal with the devil, it turns out.”

“You're calling my Pops a devil?” Drew frowned.

“'Cause he promised if I would help raise the baby, and I wrote to him and sent him pictures, and told him how she was growing up, he would send me money for her.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake!” my father exploded. “He was paying you all these years, and you never gave us a dime? You knew how I struggled with the business and three kids—”

“What money, Leonard? The son-of-a-bitch never sent me a lousy red cent! All these years I'm writing letters and sending pictures, the invitations to Claire's birthday parties.”

“Did he used to write you back?” Drew asked.

“Only to give me his new address.”

“So wait, Ma. Why did you keep sending him stuff if he never answered you?”

“Because I told you. We made a deal. He promised to give me money for Claire if I kept writing to him. So if I stopped writing, he'd think he didn't have to make good on his end of the bargain. That's why I figured, what does it cost me to send him letters? Some paper and a lousy stamp.”

“This is such a shock.” Ben shook his head. “Claire is right, though. That doesn't even sound like him. He was a very wealthy man, Mrs. Moss. And he never went back on his word. Are you sure you got the story straight? Are you sure he offered to send money?”

“Of course I'm sure,” she hollered. “Do I look like I don't know what I'm talking about?”

“No, no. Of course not. It's just that it was a very emotional time in your life. You lost your son. There was a baby to deal with. Maybe you misunderstood his intentions. Maybe you heard wrong.”

“I heard every blessed word of that conversation.” Grams shook a finger in Ben's face. “Every blessed word…and Gertrude Moss never forgets a promise, you understand? He said, ‘Don't call me on the telephone again, no matter what. This has to be our little secret. But I get mail from people all over the world, and anything addressed
to me, my wife doesn't open. So send me letters, and I will help take care of Claire.'”

“Okay, but he didn't actually say he'd send money?” Ben asked.

“Well, what'd ya think he meant, sonny boy? He sure as heck wasn't planning to come help us change diapers. Of course it meant he would send me money. So she wouldn't be a burden on the family.”

“Well, did you ever ask him in one of your letters?” My father sniffed. “What's the deal here, Abe? I'm sending you pictures every month, where's the dough?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“'Cause I'm not pushy like you. I have my own ways of doin' things.”

“Oh. Well, great job, Gert. I got stuck footing the bill all these years when a little financial support would have been very helpful. You have any idea what it cost to keep three kids in camp, and braces, then there were the bar and bat mitzvahs, sweet sixteens, college…”

“That's why he's a son-of-a-bitch!”

“Well, if he's such a son-of-a-bitch,” my father asked, “why the hell did you say he wasn't supposed to die?”

Gert's lip puckered.

“Ma. What's the matter? What aren't you telling us?”

“I don't want to talk about this no more.”

“What do you mean, you don't want to talk about this?” my father yelled. “You can't just open this huge can of worms and then decide you don't feel like telling us the whole story!”

“You're gonna be very angry, that's why.”

“I'm ALREADY angry…what the hell difference does it make?”

“Lenny, sha! Stop scaring her. You want her to start burping?”

“Grams, c'mon,” I whispered. “Spill it before I turn you upside down and shake it out of you.”

“Please, Mrs. Moss,” Ben said sweetly. “No one is going to be angry with you.”

“Shows you what you know,” she sighed. But a deep breath later, she finished her story.

“A few weeks ago, Abe finally gets around to sending me a stinking letter. Can you imagine? Took him thirty years to get off his fat heiny and write me back. And I'm thinking, see, I was right. I did what I promised, now he's finally going to do what he promised. But guess what? No check. Just a note saying he's coming to New York for a family party, and he's getting on in years, and he'd like to meet Claire.”

“Oh my God.” I felt my heart palpitate.

“So I write him back and I say, no, that's not possible, you can't just waltz into the kid's life after all these years and say hello, how do you do, I'm your grandfather. She don't even know she's adopted…which, believe me, wasn't my idea to keep secret. That I can tell you!

“Anyways, I got to thinking…. Roberta mentioned Claire was coming to visit me, so I wrote Abe another letter and said, I'll find out what flight she's on, then you can make your flight home the same one. At least you'll get to see what she looks like in person.”

“Oh my God!” I screamed. “You set me up? You did this?”

“Jesus Christ, Gert!” My father smacked his forehead. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“So he writes me back, and he says, yes, that's what he's going to do. He's going to take the same flight as Claire, but would it be okay if he called the airline to request that they sit together?”

“No!” I burst into tears. “NOOOOO!”

“So I send him another letter that says, no, you can't sit next to her 'cause you might let it slip who you are…but I guess he didn't get that one in time 'cause now we all know where he sat.”

“For God's sakes, Gert! What do you live in? A cave? Why didn't you just pick up the goddamn phone and say, ‘Hey look. You lost the right to have any contact with Claire thirty years ago'?”

“'Cause he told me never to call him at home.” Grams shrugged.

“When his wife was alive, fine, that I can understand. But what the hell difference would it have made if you called him now? It wasn't even long distance!”

“Maybe I didn't want to, okay? 'Cause maybe I was thinkin' it
might be nice if the two of them got to talking. Then it would be in God's hands. But ya think I would have done this if I knew he was going to drop dead on her lap?”

“You're out of your goddamned mind!” My father raised a fist at her.

“This is an unbelievable story.” Ben's chin dropped.

Drew nodded. “Almost like a movie.”

“Yeah, but you've only heard half the script,” I wailed. “Grams, you gotta go home and get your gun.”
How can I live with myselfnow? I blew my one and only chance to speak to my grandfather.

I
T IS TESTIMONY TO THE HUMAN SPIRIT THAT EVEN IN OUR DARKEST
hours the light of hope can be ignited to warm our hearts and to renew our faith.

Not that I knew this from personal experience. If I had to guess, I'd say it had more to do with the fact that there were high doses of antidepressants downhill-racing in my bloodstream. It was also helpful that despite Gram's shocking admissions, she was there to cradle me in her arms, just as she had when I was a frightened child trying to forget a scary dream.

Yes, I was aware that she had single-handedly changed the course of my life by making a decision independent of my knowledge or consent. And yes, like a premeditated crime, she had sent me into a flying lion's den for a chance encounter with a grandfather I never knew.

But she was still my beloved Grams. Still the historian of my past, able to chronicle even the most insignificant days of my life, as she had been there to share them with me. So in spite of all that had just transpired, all that she had confessed, I could neither hate her nor hold her liable. At great risk, she had carried a burden for thirty years, in order that I be kept out of harm's way.

Yet as willing as I was to forgive her for her transgression, I felt no such compassion for my parents. Looking back, they loved me to the extent possible, but Grams loved me unconditionally. They were my
legal guardians, but she raised me. They met my physical needs, she saw to it that I was emotionally strong.

Perhaps I owed my parents a big thanks, but I owed Grams my life.

 

It used to make me crazy whenever my agent called and said, “So what do you want first? The good news or the bad?” Frankly, it's a stupid question. Who wants to hear bad news under any circumstances? Half the time the good news isn't all that terrific, or at least not enough to offset the bad news.

So imagine how I felt the very next morning. Still numb from discovery, I was finally about to be released from the hospital, but not before being on the receiving end of all these good news/bad news scenarios.

“The good news, Claire,” my neurosurgeon said, “is your recovery has been nothing short of miraculous. Normally in brain trauma cases like yours, I'd be recommending a few weeks in a neuro rehab center, but it doesn't seem warranted here. However, given everything that's happened to you, the shocking news about your family and the strange visitations from a deceased person, I am recommending that you seek intensive psychiatric treatment at a residential center in Boca that's doing wonders with cases like yours.”

Nope. Sorry. About the only thing I want from you is a prescription for enough anti-anxiety pills so I don't even feel a sneeze coming on.

“Great news!” my father said as he helped me pack up. “Elyce has been calling to see how you're feeling, and then, this is so sweet, this morning she offered to let you use Ira's parents' vacation house in Hilton Head because they're off in Spain somewhere. She said it's right on the beach. A great place to recuperate. Then, Ira will try to get some time off so they can join you…give you two a chance to meet before the wedding.

“Only trouble is, the house is in the middle of a major renovation, and they're down to one bedroom, so you'd have to all squeeze in together. But I think you should do it anyway.”

Really? I was thinking I should fly to San Francisco, buy a really ugly
bridesmaid's dress, climb to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, and be the first jumper of the day.

“Good news, Claire.” Ben held my hand. “Penny says she's dying to meet you, of course, but she thinks it's probably best if you wait until you're feeling stronger before you plan any sort of reunion. Oh, and about that role in her new movie? She said to tell you that they really need to cast it this week, and apparently she already had someone else in mind. She thought since you knew the business so well, you'd understand.”

Oh, I understand, all right. I understand that Penny is a low-life bitch who should be shot out of a cannon and dumped into the pool during the
Vanity Fair
Oscar party
.

But then, in an unexplainable shift, either the planets magically realigned or the god of darkness left for vacation. Either way, I was finally on the receiving end of some legitimately nice news. And for the first time since that fateful morning I flew to Miami, I didn't see the world through eyes of despair.

It started with a get-well call from Pablo. Naturally he and Raphael were praying for my full recovery. But he also informed me that the office manager's job was still available, and I should just let him know when I was ready to start work.

“You didn't hold the job open for me,” I laughed. “You couldn't get anyone else to take it.”

“Actually, we did,” Pablo whispered. “She lasted four days, which may have been a record.”

Even Grams had wonderful news to cheer me up. She had gone back to look at Abe's apartment and loved it so much, she was moving in immediately. She'd also spoken to management and given the extenuating circumstances; they'd said if I wanted to live there temporarily, they would waive the bylaws that prohibited residents under the age of sixty-five.

“You just gotta promise a few things,” Grams said. “No pets, no wild parties, and no fooling around with the men.”

“Oh yuck. Why would they mention that?”

“Because you know the kinda mess animals make. Who needs dog poop all over the grass?”

But then came the granddaddy of the good-news calls, ironically because of my granddaddy. Right as we were walking out the door, the phone rang, and my father grumbled that I should let it ring because in exactly six minutes he would have to pay for another hour for the parking garage.

“Just let me see who it is,” I said. “I'll make it fast.”
Please be Drew calling to say he thought about it, and I was the girl of his dreams
.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Claire. Let the operator take a message. You gave them your cell number.”

“Just go. I'll meet you downstairs…. Hello…. Yes, this is she…. Actually, no, it's not a good time. I've just been released from the hospital, and—”

“Who is it?” My father waited by the door.

“I'm sorry. Who is this again?…Uh-huh…. Oh my God. Really?…No, of course not. How would I have known that?”

“Claire, who are you talking to?”

“Shhh.” I covered the mouthpiece. “Some attorney for Abe…. Yes, I guess I could meet you next week.”

“Oh jeez. What did I tell you?” He smacked the wall with his palm. “Didn't I say if you got involved and the family sued the airline, you'd be looking at years of litigation and testifying?”

“Daddy, be quiet…. Excuse me. My father was talking to me at the same time…. Yes, I just turned thirty a few days ago. How did you know that?…I'm sorry?”

“Tell them you're not saying a word until you get your own representation,” my father barked in my ear. “
Oy gevault
. That's what I need right now. More legal expenses.”

“Oh my God…Are you sure? I can't believe it…. Okay. Yes. Of course…. Next Monday at eleven.” I scribbled on the back of a prescription. “1500 Glades Road…third floor. Yes. I know Boca. Thank you. Thank you very much.” I hung up and collapsed on the bed.

“What the hell did you say yes for?” my father yelled. “You can't meet with anyone next week. You're going home with us tomorrow,
and I'm sure as hell not paying for another airfare to get you back down here. If they want to talk to you, they can take your statement by phone—”

“He left me money.” I cried softly into a pillow.

“What?”

“There you are.” My mother rushed in. “I've been looking everywhere for you two. Up the elevator, down the elevator…you told me to meet you at the car a half an hour ago—”

“Sha, Roberta!” My father waved. “Something just happened, and I want to hear. Claire, start from the beginning. Who was that on the phone, and what exactly did he tell you?”

“Grams was wrong about Abe,” I whispered.

“What's she talking about?” my mother asked.

“That's what I'm trying to find out.” My father sat beside me.

“He's not a son-of-a-bitch like Grams said. He did what he said…he put money away for me.”

“Oh my God,” my mother gasped. “How much money?”

“Oh jeez, Roberta. What kind of insensitive question is that to ask? Can't you see Claire is struggling right now? But now that you brought it up…Claire, honey. Did the lawyer happen to mention an amount?”

“Oh, 'scuse me.” An orderly rolled in a linen cart. “I thought you left already.”

“Well, we didn't.” My father looked at his watch. “And this room is paid in full until twelve-oh-one
P.M.
…which gives us twenty-two more minutes. So if you wouldn't mind, please leave.”

“Is anything wrong?” A supervisor entered.

“Yeah, this guy thinks he's at a Marriott or somethin'. He won't leave till checkout.”

“Hey, look. We're in the middle of something important here. Just give us a few minutes, and we'll be out of your hair. For God's sake, my poor daughter has been here for over a week, and—”

“Lenny, stop…. Please excuse him. We just need another minute.”

“Whatever.” The supervisor signaled the orderly to return later.

“Now, are you sure this guy was legit? Did he say specifically that
he was an estate attorney? 'Cause this is Florida, and the state is crawling with slimeball lawyers who read the obits like they're the comics, then try and get a piece of the action.”

“I have no idea what he is. You were so busy screaming in my ear I couldn't hear. All I know is he said his name was Marvin Greenberg…and then he said something about a trust fund in my name.”

“A trust fund?” My father's eyes lit up like a
menorah
on the eighth night.

“Yeah, and the thing that's so strange is, he said he was already in the process of trying to locate me, because legally he was required to notify me that on my thirtieth birthday, or upon the death of Abe, the money in the trust was mine. Which means I would have found out about him being my grandfather no matter what.”

“Oh my God. This is so…I don't know.” My mother sighed. “
Bashert?
Meant to be?”

“I'll tell you what it is. It's incredible.” My father pounded his chest and looked up to thank God, like a ballplayer who just hit one over the fence. “Course I don't have to tell you the income tax on the interest could be…phew, don't even ask.”

“I'll get the details on Monday, but he called it substantive.”

“Substantive?” My father repeated the word like a dreamy-eyed Pinocchio.

“What's substantive mean, Lenny?”

“Are you kidding? It means our worries are over.” My father laughed. “Let's say for argument's sake he put away, I don't know, ten grand a year for Claire…. If it earned an average of eight percent a year over thirty years?” He did a mental calculation. “Between reinvesting the dividends and compounding, that account could be worth well over a million by now.”

“A million dollars?” my mother cried.

“That's right. And I don't have to tell you with how volatile the market's been, our investments have been in the toilet…. This could be a big, big help.”

“What are you getting at?” I gulped. “I haven't heard anything of
ficial yet, and you're already talking like it's your money…. It's not your money, it's my money. The trust is in
my
name.”

“Whoa. Hold on, there, Claire. Nobody's trying to take anything away from you, honey. I'm just saying, we need to be fair and reasonable here. We made a huge investment in you at our expense. Nobody gave us a dime. Did it strictly out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“Oh my God. What are you saying?” I screamed. “To repay you for your kindness, I should hand over my entire inheritance to you?”

“No, of course not. I'm just saying that what we did for you was at a tremendous sacrifice. You have no idea how tough it was for us at the beginning—we had no money, no house, no savings and then we're strapped with a baby we didn't expect—”

“This isn't happening. Tell me this isn't happening.”

“Lenny, she's right. This is too much for her to handle right now…. When did you say you were meeting the lawyer?”

“Monday morning.”

“So fine. I'll fly home with Lindsey and Adam, and Lenny, you stay down here so you can go with her to the meeting.”

“No! Sorry. I'm going alone.”

“That's ridiculous, Claire.” My father sneered. “What do you know about estate settlements, trust funds, probate…?”

“I'll tell you what I know. I know that I can't trust you to make any decisions on my behalf because you're going to be too busy figuring out what your cut should be…and as far as I'm concerned, that is NOT your decision to make.”

“You're unbelievable!” my father hollered. “Where's the gratitude? The respect?”

“Respect?” I closed my eyes. “You have the nerve to talk to me about respect? Oh my God. Look at the two of you, standing there like the parents of the year. What respect did you show me? You lied to me, you betrayed my trust, you never once bothered to consider how I'd feel if I found out the truth, all these years you've treated me like a burden and a nuisance—”

“We treated you all the same!” My mother shook her finger in my face.

“Bullshit! Everything I ever wanted, you made me feel like I had no right to ask for. But whatever Adam and Lindsey wanted? No problem. I had to pay for every dime of my first car…and what happened when Adam turned seventeen? Bingo. Daddy takes him over to the Nissan dealer, and says, ‘Go on, son. Pick out something nice.' And for years I begged you to let me go to that great performing arts camp in Wisconsin, and you said, ‘Nothing doing. Too much money.' But when Lindsey wanted to go to that stupid gymnastics camp…oh my God, the girl didn't know a cartwheel from a Ferris wheel, but suddenly money was no object.”