An Unexpected Gift, rated G
Posted: Thu Apr 30, 2009 10:48 pm
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: Written (but submitted too late, darn it!) for the MLA Two-Hour Challenge, April 30, 2009.
An Unexpected Gift
“Well, land sakes,” said Arlene, shutting the front door and walking into the kitchen where her husband was sitting at the table.
“What’s that, dear?” asked her husband absently. He had taken the toaster apart for the umpteenth time and he squinted as he stretched a tiny spring, trying to hook it into a tiny hole. The spring lost its anchor and snapped out of the needle-nose pliers, bouncing off the ceiling and disappearing onto the cracked linoleum floor.
“Oh, drat the thing,” said Arlene. “Mike, this registered package just arrived. Did you order something?” She placed a large, thick envelope on the far end of the kitchen table, carefully avoiding the toaster pieces strewn near her husband.
“No, I didn’t order anything. What is it?” Mike levered himself out of his chair and gingerly knelt on the floor, running his palm over the surface, searching for the missing spring.
Arlene hopped up and leaned over her husband. “Don’t you do that, honey, let me sweep. I’m sure I can find it with the broom.” She gently tugged on her husband’s shoulder and he looked up at her, craning his neck.
“Well, why didn’t you think of that before I was down here?” His eyebrows pulled together in a little frown, but she could hear the smile in his voice. Groaning a little, he let her help him to his feet and sat back down in the chair.
Arlene busied herself sweeping the floor carefully, making a little pile of crumbs and dust in the middle of the floor. She brushed the pile into a dustpan and sat down with it, picking through it. “Aha! Found it,” she crowed, setting the little spring down on the table.
“Woman, you’re good! Now let’s see if I can hang on better this time,” said Mike, grasping the tiny thing tightly in the pliers and carefully anchoring it again. Arlene held her breath while he struggled to hold his hand steady enough to fit the hook of the spring through the little hole. At last he connected it, and Arlene released her breath in a whoosh.
She sat back, fanning herself, and laughed. “I swear, you make everything an adventure.”
Mike looked up at her over the top of his glasses and raised a finely-drawn eyebrow. “Always have, always will. It’s a St. John specialty.” He winked at her and bent his head back to his work. “Almost done with the tricky part,” he said in a grunt, fitting two parts together and looking around for the screwdriver. “Here, can you put the screw through these two holes while I hold it?”
Arlene stood up and bent over Mike, picking up the little screw in her delicate fingers. She straightened her glasses on her nose and peered through them as she steadied his shaky hands with one of hers and threaded the screw through the holes with the other. “There.” She picked up the screwdriver and tightened the screw, then kissed her husband’s head and straightened up. His hair had once been black, but it was still thick and curly, and she loved to touch it.
“Now honey, you’re distracting me,” Mike grumbled, but he was smiling.
“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Arlene said, laughing. Stroking her husband’s cheek briefly, she went back to her place and sat watching him, her chin on her hands. Suddenly her eyes fell on the envelope that had arrived earlier.
“Well, for heaven’s sakes, I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t tied on. Here’s this letter, and it’s addressed to you. Aren’t you going to open it?”
Mike glanced up. “Go ahead and open it for me, why don’t you? My hands are full.”
Arlene went over to the pencil cup, got the letter opener, and brought it back to the table. Sitting again, she slipped the blade inside the flap and slit the top of the envelope.
Inside were a letter in a sealed, business-sized envelope, a thick booklet, and another large, unsealed envelope. Arlene opened the smaller envelope and unfolded the letter inside. “It’s from a lawyer.” She scanned the letter and her eyes got very big.
“A lawyer? What does a lawyer want with us?” Mike glanced over at Arlene and saw her shocked face. “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?”
Arlene’s eyes were brimming. “Oh, Mike, look at this!” She held out the letter to him in a shaking hand, and her tears spilled over. She took a paper napkin out of the holder and held it to her eyes.
Mike took the letter and read it. “Dear Mr. St. John… trust… your son, Michael?” He looked up. “What is this? Arlene, what the hell is this about?” He slammed the letter down, knocking a piece of the toaster onto the floor. “Is this some kind of sick joke? What do they mean, a trust fund that Mick set up?”
Arlene mopped at her eyes and blew her nose on the napkin. “I… I don’t know, Mike. It looks like Mick set up some sort of trust when he got out of the service, and they just now found it. And—and—since he’s gone, it’s come to us.”
Mike put a clammy hand to his eyes. “It’s been so long… I never thought I’d hear his name again.” He could feel a lump growing in his throat, threatening to unman him. He coughed and cleared his throat to hide his emotion. “Well then, so what’s this nest egg our boy had? Hand it over.”
Arlene slid the large envelope over to him and looked at the booklet. “It’s some big company. I guess it’s stock or something,” she said. “Kostan Industries. There’s a company brochure and an annual report.”
Mike slid the colorful certificate out of the envelope and looked at it. “Kostan Industries, huh? That’s a Fortune 100 company. How could Mick—”
“Maybe it was some sort of repurchase plan. The dividends got reinvested. How many shares are there? Maybe we can sell ‘em and go to Hawaii.” Arlene was leafing through the colorful company brochure.
Mike looked at the certificate and his face paled. “Uh… Arlene?” He gulped.
“Yes, Mike? Is it bad news? It’s OK, we can take it.” Arlene stood up and stood by her husband’s chair, cradling his head against her breasts.
Mike rubbed his cheek against his wife’s body. “It’s OK, honey. But where’s today’s paper? Where’s the business section?”
“Here it is,” Arlene said, pulling the paper out of the trash basket. “The business section, you say?” She fished out the section he wanted and handed it to him.
Nervously, he turned pages till he found the stocks, and then ran his finger down the columns until he found the one he was looking for. He looked up at his wife, his mouth open.
“What is it, Mike?” Arlene put her hand on her heart.
“Honey…this stock is worth over two million dollars.” Mike lifted the certificate again to double-check his math.
Arlene reached for the back of her chair and then slowly sank down into the seat, her eyes never leaving her husband’s face. “Mike… it’s like a miracle.”
“It is a miracle,” he said soberly. “It’s like Mickey knew we’d be…” He choked. “It’s like he knew.”
Arlene held her hands out and Mike took them. “It’s like he’s been watching us from Heaven, isn’t it, dear?”
“Yeah,” Mike said, and a tear rolled down his weathered cheek.
Arlene squeezed his fingers and then sat up straight, all business. “Well, come on, then. We’ve got to get to the bank before it closes!”
<>
Author's note: Written (but submitted too late, darn it!) for the MLA Two-Hour Challenge, April 30, 2009.
An Unexpected Gift
“Well, land sakes,” said Arlene, shutting the front door and walking into the kitchen where her husband was sitting at the table.
“What’s that, dear?” asked her husband absently. He had taken the toaster apart for the umpteenth time and he squinted as he stretched a tiny spring, trying to hook it into a tiny hole. The spring lost its anchor and snapped out of the needle-nose pliers, bouncing off the ceiling and disappearing onto the cracked linoleum floor.
“Oh, drat the thing,” said Arlene. “Mike, this registered package just arrived. Did you order something?” She placed a large, thick envelope on the far end of the kitchen table, carefully avoiding the toaster pieces strewn near her husband.
“No, I didn’t order anything. What is it?” Mike levered himself out of his chair and gingerly knelt on the floor, running his palm over the surface, searching for the missing spring.
Arlene hopped up and leaned over her husband. “Don’t you do that, honey, let me sweep. I’m sure I can find it with the broom.” She gently tugged on her husband’s shoulder and he looked up at her, craning his neck.
“Well, why didn’t you think of that before I was down here?” His eyebrows pulled together in a little frown, but she could hear the smile in his voice. Groaning a little, he let her help him to his feet and sat back down in the chair.
Arlene busied herself sweeping the floor carefully, making a little pile of crumbs and dust in the middle of the floor. She brushed the pile into a dustpan and sat down with it, picking through it. “Aha! Found it,” she crowed, setting the little spring down on the table.
“Woman, you’re good! Now let’s see if I can hang on better this time,” said Mike, grasping the tiny thing tightly in the pliers and carefully anchoring it again. Arlene held her breath while he struggled to hold his hand steady enough to fit the hook of the spring through the little hole. At last he connected it, and Arlene released her breath in a whoosh.
She sat back, fanning herself, and laughed. “I swear, you make everything an adventure.”
Mike looked up at her over the top of his glasses and raised a finely-drawn eyebrow. “Always have, always will. It’s a St. John specialty.” He winked at her and bent his head back to his work. “Almost done with the tricky part,” he said in a grunt, fitting two parts together and looking around for the screwdriver. “Here, can you put the screw through these two holes while I hold it?”
Arlene stood up and bent over Mike, picking up the little screw in her delicate fingers. She straightened her glasses on her nose and peered through them as she steadied his shaky hands with one of hers and threaded the screw through the holes with the other. “There.” She picked up the screwdriver and tightened the screw, then kissed her husband’s head and straightened up. His hair had once been black, but it was still thick and curly, and she loved to touch it.
“Now honey, you’re distracting me,” Mike grumbled, but he was smiling.
“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Arlene said, laughing. Stroking her husband’s cheek briefly, she went back to her place and sat watching him, her chin on her hands. Suddenly her eyes fell on the envelope that had arrived earlier.
“Well, for heaven’s sakes, I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t tied on. Here’s this letter, and it’s addressed to you. Aren’t you going to open it?”
Mike glanced up. “Go ahead and open it for me, why don’t you? My hands are full.”
Arlene went over to the pencil cup, got the letter opener, and brought it back to the table. Sitting again, she slipped the blade inside the flap and slit the top of the envelope.
Inside were a letter in a sealed, business-sized envelope, a thick booklet, and another large, unsealed envelope. Arlene opened the smaller envelope and unfolded the letter inside. “It’s from a lawyer.” She scanned the letter and her eyes got very big.
“A lawyer? What does a lawyer want with us?” Mike glanced over at Arlene and saw her shocked face. “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?”
Arlene’s eyes were brimming. “Oh, Mike, look at this!” She held out the letter to him in a shaking hand, and her tears spilled over. She took a paper napkin out of the holder and held it to her eyes.
Mike took the letter and read it. “Dear Mr. St. John… trust… your son, Michael?” He looked up. “What is this? Arlene, what the hell is this about?” He slammed the letter down, knocking a piece of the toaster onto the floor. “Is this some kind of sick joke? What do they mean, a trust fund that Mick set up?”
Arlene mopped at her eyes and blew her nose on the napkin. “I… I don’t know, Mike. It looks like Mick set up some sort of trust when he got out of the service, and they just now found it. And—and—since he’s gone, it’s come to us.”
Mike put a clammy hand to his eyes. “It’s been so long… I never thought I’d hear his name again.” He could feel a lump growing in his throat, threatening to unman him. He coughed and cleared his throat to hide his emotion. “Well then, so what’s this nest egg our boy had? Hand it over.”
Arlene slid the large envelope over to him and looked at the booklet. “It’s some big company. I guess it’s stock or something,” she said. “Kostan Industries. There’s a company brochure and an annual report.”
Mike slid the colorful certificate out of the envelope and looked at it. “Kostan Industries, huh? That’s a Fortune 100 company. How could Mick—”
“Maybe it was some sort of repurchase plan. The dividends got reinvested. How many shares are there? Maybe we can sell ‘em and go to Hawaii.” Arlene was leafing through the colorful company brochure.
Mike looked at the certificate and his face paled. “Uh… Arlene?” He gulped.
“Yes, Mike? Is it bad news? It’s OK, we can take it.” Arlene stood up and stood by her husband’s chair, cradling his head against her breasts.
Mike rubbed his cheek against his wife’s body. “It’s OK, honey. But where’s today’s paper? Where’s the business section?”
“Here it is,” Arlene said, pulling the paper out of the trash basket. “The business section, you say?” She fished out the section he wanted and handed it to him.
Nervously, he turned pages till he found the stocks, and then ran his finger down the columns until he found the one he was looking for. He looked up at his wife, his mouth open.
“What is it, Mike?” Arlene put her hand on her heart.
“Honey…this stock is worth over two million dollars.” Mike lifted the certificate again to double-check his math.
Arlene reached for the back of her chair and then slowly sank down into the seat, her eyes never leaving her husband’s face. “Mike… it’s like a miracle.”
“It is a miracle,” he said soberly. “It’s like Mickey knew we’d be…” He choked. “It’s like he knew.”
Arlene held her hands out and Mike took them. “It’s like he’s been watching us from Heaven, isn’t it, dear?”
“Yeah,” Mike said, and a tear rolled down his weathered cheek.
Arlene squeezed his fingers and then sat up straight, all business. “Well, come on, then. We’ve got to get to the bank before it closes!”
<>
I agree--Mick's family lost so much when they lost him. And it was worse, because he made it home from the war, and then he just disappeared. What a horrible thing to have happen--for a child to simply disappear. I feel so desperately sorry for his parents. 
