Joan VS The State of Liberty
Chapter 6
"Yes, yes, I'll come by tomorrow," Joan said as she hung up the phone.
She went to the kitchen cupboard where she kept the wine. This was cause for celebration and she knew just what she needed to make the celebration complete. She uncorked the bottle and poured herself a full glass of the red liquid. She took a big mouthful of the wine and savored the taste and the little jolt it gave to her system as she swallowed it.
She sat down at the kitchen table and took another drink. She should go to church and light a candle for good old Jack. His will was finally going to provide her with all the things she had been deprived of all her life. The money from the paintings would give her security. She wouldn't have to worry about every nickel and dime that she spent. She wouldn't have to ask Brian if she found herself a little short at the end of the month. No more need to be beholding to anyone, especially her kids. She could make a hefty donation to the church. Everyone would be so impressed. It was about time she got some of the respect she deserved. She would be able to go on some of the trips organized by the church, the ones that were always just a bit out of her price range. Maybe she could go to the Holy Land. That would be nice. She would be able to provide her grandsons with all the things they would need once she got custody of them. But she wouldn't spoil them. Children should not be spoiled.
With a frown she thought about her own two ungrateful children. They should have turned out better. She had done her best, but Jack was always such a bad influence on the whole family. He had made it so hard for her. Now she would be able to make all the decisions herself. Things would turn out better.
She refilled her glass and glanced around the kitchen. Everything was in its place just as it should be. Maybe she should remodel the kitchen once she got her money. There were so many possibilities opening up to her. She took another sip of the wine wondering what else she might like to do with her newfound riches.
She really didn't need much. She had learned to live very frugally. But it would be nice never to have to worry again, or have to debase herself by asking Brian for money. She wondered how Brian had become so successful. He certainly didn't take after Jack in that respect. It must come from her side of the family. But his homosexuality, where on earth did that come from? That artist, Kinney, had been gay. That must be the source of the defective gene. Joan chuckled to herself. That bastard Jack would roll over in his grave if he knew that his most illustrious ancestor was homosexual. She wished he were here so she could tell him. She would relish every moment of it.
But then maybe he already knew. He knew about Brian long before she did and he never said anything to her. Nobody ever told her anything. Just like Brian and Claire didn't tell her about that art show. She always had to find things out herself. And she did. She would never need to depend on them for anything after she got her money. They would have to ask her permission for things; they'd have to ask her for money if they needed it. And she would enjoy every second as she turned them down, telling them that they should run their lives better and handle their finances more effectively. She wouldn't pay for their depravity and foolish mistakes.
Joan smiled to herself as she sipped her wine. Yes, things were looking up, definitely looking up.
Joan put on her coat and smoothed the front. She always wanted to be sure she had it buttoned correctly. She wouldn't be made fun of by … anybody. She glanced in the hall mirror and patted her hair. She looked fine. A check of her watch and she went out the door. She didn't want to be too early but she would be punctual.
Just before ten she pulled into a parking spot on Liberty Avenue. She looked up and down the street and didn't see too many strange beings. She was a little apprehensive about being here. She knew the reputation of this street. But her son would feel right at home. She wished they could have met somewhere more … appropriate, but it had been here or not at all.
Slowly she walked along the street. A pair of men with their arms around each other almost bumped into her and she backed away in disgust. These godless creatures wouldn't touch her.
Finally she reached her objective and pushed open the door. She saw the redhead immediately, sitting in a back booth.
Debbie Novotny looked up as the bell jangled and gave a wave. She didn't look too pleased to see Joan, and she wasn't. She couldn't imagine what Joan wanted to talk to her about. The last time they had spoken had been in the church when Debbie had told Joan to call Brian about his cancer.
"Hello, Debbie. Thank you for meeting with me," Joan said as she slid into the booth across from the woman.
Debbie chewed her gum and stared at Joan. "I have to say that I was very surprised that you called me. I can't imagine what we have to talk about."
"I think we only have one thing in common," Joan said as she sloughed off her coat.
"Brian."
"Yes, Brian."
"Would you like a coffee while we talk?" Debbie asked.
"Um…" Joan hesitated looking around at the diner. She wasn't sure she wanted to touch anything from this place. "Are you having one?"
Debbie nodded and signaled Kiki to bring them each a coffee. "It's actually very good coffee," Debbie felt compelled to say.
"Oh, yes."
"So what did you want to talk about?" Debbie asked as Kiki filled their cups.
"I … I want some information," Joan said hesitantly as she fixed her coffee and took a sip. It was surprisingly good.
"About Brian," Debbie said.
Joan looked at Debbie. For all her appearance to the contrary this woman was no dummy. She would have to be careful how she presented this to Debbie. She knew the woman seemed to genuinely care about her son. Maybe she could use that. "My son doesn't talk to me unless he has to," Joan began. "There's so much about his life I don't know. I thought maybe you could fill in some of the gaps."
Debbie looked quizzically at Joan. "Why now?"
Joan prayed that Debbie hadn't heard about the lawsuits yet. If she hadn't she would be more likely to spill the information Joan needed. "My daughter seems to be making some major changes in her life. She and Brian are getting very close, but they're shutting me out." Joan blinked like she was holding back tears.
"And you don't want to be shut out?"
"Of course not. Why would you ask that?"
Debbie chose her words carefully. "Brian doesn't seem to think you want to know anything about his life. He thinks you don't approve." Debbie wanted to say that Brian thought she hated him, but she held that back. She wanted to know what Joan was after, and maybe she could improve things between mother and son.
"I don't like his lifestyle, but he's still my son."
"So what can I help you with?"
"Who are these people, the Andersons, who were at the art gallery?"
"You know about the Kinney show?" Debbie asked in surprise.
"Yes, I know," Joan replied trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Who are they? The man looks so much like Brian."
Debbie swallowed hard. How could she answer that question? "Shouldn't you be talking to Brian or Claire about this?"
"They won't talk to me. They tell me nothing. They treat me like a burden, a pariah, and all I want is a part in their lives."
Debbie had known there was a mother in there somewhere. Her heart melted a little at Joan's words. "I don't want to upset you," Debbie said before revealing anything.
"Not knowing what's going on in my own family is more upsetting than anything else. Please tell me," Joan begged and reached out to touch Debbie's hand.
"All right, but you didn't hear any of this from me."
Joan nodded in understanding. She could hardly believe it was this easy. She was about to confirm or clarify everything she had overheard at the art gala.
Debbie took a sip of her coffee and cleared her throat. "John Anderson, the one who looks like Brian, is Jacks' son with Claire Anderson."
"Oh," Joan said knowing that she had suspected exactly that but not enjoying having her suspicions verified. "I thought maybe it was something like that. So he's … illegitimate."
Debbie snorted. "He's forty years old and a great guy. What difference does it make where he came from?"
"Of course, I'm sorry. I was just surprised. So Jack must have known this woman before he knew me."
Debbie nodded. "Jack never knew about John."
Joan frowned. "Never?" The bloody Kinneys had so many secrets.
"Never. Claire never told him."
"Do you know this Claire?" Joan asked.
"We've met several times. She's very nice."
"Oh," Joan said. She could just imagine what Debbie would think of as nice. A woman with an illegitimate son was hardly Joan's idea of nice.
"Claire and John live on a farm near Harrisburg. They have a good life there. John's an architect, and they help support 'the farm' which is a summer facility for troubled youth. That's where all the money from the auction of the Kinney paintings is going."
'No it's not,' Joan thought and tried to keep the smile from her face. "It sounds like a very worthy cause."
"It is. You know," Debbie said thoughtfully, "if you want to meet Claire I could arrange it. We've been to some barbecues at her house. It's a great place. Brian even built a treehouse for Gus," Debbie babbled in her enthusiasm to include Joan and help her make peace with Brian.
"Gus?" Joan asked.
"Yes, Gus, Brian's son, he's such a sweet little boy."
"Brian's son?" Joan asked in horror. "How can Brian have a son?"
Debbie realized that she had just said too much. She had assumed Joan knew about Gus, but apparently she didn't. Fuck! Brian would kill her. "Just forget that I said that," Debbie said hastily.
"Forget! Forget that I have a grandson that I know nothing about! I don't think so." Joan stood and grabbed her coat from the booth. "I think I've heard enough." She stomped out of the diner.
Debbie looked after her and shook her head. She better let Brian know what she had done. He would have a fit. Shit! She should have known better than to talk to that woman.
Joan made it to her car before she started to shake. She had a grandson that she knew nothing about. She remembered seeing Brian with that little boy outside the art gallery. She wondered if that was Gus. How could they keep that from her? The child had to be at least three years old. She felt her blood start to boil. They did hate her. They shut her out of their lives. They told her nothing and made her look like a fool in front of people like Debbie Novotny who seemed to know everything about her family. Oh, Brian was going to pay. And Claire, and this other Claire, whoever the hell she was! They would all pay. She would make certain of that.
An hour later she was ushered into her lawyer's office. Seymour Gottlieb looked at his latest meal ticket with concern. Her face was flushed and she looked almost apoplectic. He wondered what had happened.
"Mrs. Kinney," he said in his best smarmy voice, "What can I do for you?"
Joan glared at him trying to get her temper under control. She didn't want to sound like a screaming banshee even if that was exactly what she felt like doing. "Could I have a glass of water?" she asked hoping that would calm her nerves and settle her stomach. What she really wanted was a glass of wine or a shot of whiskey.
Seymour stood and poured her a glass of water at the credenza. He presented it to her with his best manners.
"Thank you," she said as she took a gulp and then another.
"You seem upset."
"I am," Joan stated abruptly. "I've just found out some extremely important information."
"About the case?" Seymour asked sitting up all attention now that he knew she had actual business with him. Sometimes these old biddies just wanted an ear to chew on about all the things that were wrong with their life. Maybe she did have some information that was important to the case, something that would guarantee that they could claim the Kinneys.
"Yes," Joan said leaning forward. "Those Andersons that I told you about, I've verified who they are."
"You have? I hope you haven't tipped our hand," Seymour cautioned.
"I wouldn't do that," Joan said indignantly.
"So what did you find out?"
"John Anderson is Jack's illegitimate son. Jack must have gotten Claire Anderson pregnant before he came to Pittsburgh. Jack never knew that he had another son."
"That might explain some of the Kinney connection and why the Andersons had the paintings. They must be living on Kinney property."
"Oh yes, I hadn't thought of that."
"That could mean that they are living on your property. You might be able to get the farm as well as the paintings," Seymour said almost rubbing his hands with glee.
"Oh, oh my, I'm not sure I want to take away their home. I just want what's rightfully mine."
"And it sounds like the farm may be rightfully yours."
"I … I don't know. It doesn't seem very Christian to take away their home."
"You never know how these things might play out. In order to get the paintings we might have to prove that you are the true heir to the farm."
"I see," Joan said thoughtfully. She sat up straight in her chair. "Do whatever you have to do … and do it immediately. I want them all to pay."
Seymour looked at Joan. She seemed slightly psycho, but she could provide a big payday for him. "Did something else happen today?"
"I found out … I found out that my son has a child that he never told me about. He has kept my grandson away from for at least three years." Joan dabbed at her eyes.
'Fuck me!' Seymour thought. 'These Kinneys are a fucked up lot.' He handed Joan another tissue. "I'll get right on it. I should be able to have the papers served in a couple of days. I had already started drawing them up."
"That's good. I agree that we should go after everything we can get."
"I'm pleased to hear you say that. I think that's the right decision."
"Could I ask you something else," Joan said now that they had settled that.
"Of course, Mrs. Kinney.
"Does my son have the right to prevent me from seeing my grandchild?"
"I'm not a family lawyer, but I would tend to think that you should be allowed to see your grandson."
"Could I force him to let me?"
"Would you have to force him? Couldn't you just ask?"
"You don't know my son."
"No, I don't," Seymour said but he knew Joan and he could almost understand why her children didn't want her near their kids.
"I'll have to force him to let me see them."
"If you say so."
"Could you recommend a lawyer that might help me with that?"
"I could, but don't you think you have enough to deal with, with the paintings, and custody of your other grandsons?"
"But this little boy is three years old and I have never seen him until a few days ago."
"That's too bad. Speak to my secretary on the way out and she will give you the card of a good family lawyer. I would talk to the lawyer, but maybe not press the issue until we get these other cases settled."
"Thank you, Mr. Gottlieb. I don't know what I would do without you."
"I'm happy to help in any way that I can." 'And for the right fee,' he thought to himself. 'A most excellent fee.'
When Joan walked out of the lawyer's office she was much calmer. She read the card the secretary had given her. She would call this person, but first she needed to go home and have a stiff drink.