Chapter 9 – A Curley Situation
Charity jumped to her feet and greeted the old man. Her voice trembled only slightly as she said graciously, “I’m sorry, you must have me confused with someone else. My name is Charity and this is my friend, Gobias Koffi,” she pointed to me. Charity was clearly puzzled. She looked my way raising her eyebrow as if to ask why some stranger had called her Cassie. I had no more of a clue of what was going on than she, but the look the older man gave me was equally disconcerting. He had clearly recognised either me or my name.
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“How do you do Sir. I am Gobias Koffi,” I said politely extending my hand. He hesitated momentarily before he shook my hand in limp grip common to folk with severe arthritis. The man examined my face intently.
“You can’t be Gaylord Koffi’s son, Gobias. You’re far too young. But I’ll bet the farm that you’re Gaylord’s grandson. You got that Koffi look about you.” His voice was loud but slow with the drawl I remembered from my youth. The man eyed me uncertainly, but the edge I heard in his voice, was anxiety not hostility. “I see it didn’t take you long to get here,” he continued. “Them lawyers told me yesterday that they would put a notice in the newspapers.”
I hadn’t the slightest idea who the man was or why he thought I’d come as a result of a notice in the newspapers. I decided to go along with his assumption that Gaylord Koffi was my grandfather. Since I’d reset my age, I had planned to pass myself off as his grandson should anyone make the connection to the Koffi name while I was visiting Appaloosa Plains. I wasn’t expecting this.
“Yes I am Gaylord Koffi’s grandson. I’m Gobias Koffi Junior,” I said following my own advice and trying to be nice. “I can assure you; I have not seen any notice in the newspapers. I had been planning this trip to Appaloosa Plains for years. Perhaps you would care to enlighten us as to your problem.”
My attention was fully on the man so I didn’t see an elderly woman approach us. “Tate Curley I can hear you hollerin’ from across the ways. What ya’ll standin’ around in the snow for. Have you no sense at all? Poor Cassie’ll freeze to death. Unless you want the whole neighbourhood to hear our business, ya’ll best come inside so we can talk in private.” The woman took Charity by the hand as though she were a child and guided her across the road towards a little house with an overgrown unkempt yard no amount of snow could disguise. Seeing the old house brought back some memories.
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I vaguely remember a man called Curley. Not Tate Curley, but Bill or Bob or something like that. He was a contemporary of my parents. My father had been a keen horseman and amateur jockey who regularly raced at the Equestrian Centre each Thursday. Mr Curley would give me some Simoleons to buy popcorn while I watched my father race. My mother would mind the store while dad and I went to the Equestrian Centre. It was our weekly father and son treat.
Not quite knowing where this was heading, I followed the woman being very solicitous towards Charity. From her familiarity with Tate, I guessed she was most likely to be Mrs Curley. I was puzzled about the issue with Tate but I was more deeply concerned that Mrs Curley had also called Charity, Cassie.
Tate said to his wife, “This here’s Gobias Koffi’s son.”
The woman looked sideways at me. “Are you Alva Koffi’s grandson?”
I nodded. She stared at me assessing me closely. She turned her attention back to her husband and said, “Told you didn’t I? Them lawyers would find him.” Without missing a beat, she turned back to me, “You gotta name son?”
“Gobias Koffi...um, Gobias Koffi Junior,” I replied. I was prepared to pretend I was Gaylord’s grandson for the townies but if lawyers were involved, perhaps I should tell someone the truth... but not til I knew the lay of the land.
Mrs Curley turned back towards Charity as she opened the front door to a neat but tiny house that smelled of wet cat fur. “You warm enough in that sweater, darlin’. I can get you a warm blanket to wrap up in if you want one?”
“No thanks. I’m fine Mrs...um...,” Charity replied, “Please forgive me, I’ve momentarily forgotten your name.”
“Not surprising, standin’ out in the snow like that. With you being so sick an’ all. I don’t know what the men were thinkin’, I sure don’t. You always called me Miss Esme. I kinda like that, it makes me feel younger,” she smiled kindly at Charity then turned to her husband. “Tate, you best start a fire. It’s gone cold in here.”
“I was fixin’ to Esme,” he said far more graciously than he’d been thus far.
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“Now darlin’ can I make you a cup of coffee or hot chocolate?” the woman asked Charity kindly.
“No thanks Miss Esme, I just drank two cups of tea,” replied Charity still obviously confused. Esme Curley showed Charity to a sofa next to the fire that Tate had lit. I sat beside Charity so Esme took the chair. Tate sat at the dinner table and frowned. I wondered if he was normally grumpy or that whatever issue he had with me, had made him bad tempered.
“So Gobias,” began Esme. “I expect you’re here in Appaloosa Plains because of them advertisements the lawyers put in the newspapers. I imagine you are wonderin’ why we was lookin’ for any issue of your grandmother, Alva Doris Koffi-Teeter-Gould-Curley?”
Now I was confused. My mother, Alva Doris Koffi (as I knew her), had died when I was a child. I couldn’t imagine why anybody would be looking for her children after all these years.
It was surprising how easily I slipped back into the patois of Appaloosa Plains. “Actually, ma’m, I haven’t seen any advertisements from your lawyers. As I said to your husband, I’d been planning this trip for some time. I was not aware that anybody was looking for me.”
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“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked. Strictly speaking, no, I had no siblings. But as I was trying to pass myself off as my son, I didn’t plan to mention Leon or Hope who really were Alva Doris Koffi’s grandchildren because I wanted to know what the problem was first. Also I was very sure that no lawyer would ever find out they were the children of Gobias Rigby Koffi.
“No ma’m, I’m an only child.” That at least was true.
“Pardon me for pryin’ but you don’t look much older than twenty,” Esme said inquiringly. “Did Gobias marry late in life or somethin’?”
“Yes, he was an elder when he married Faith Baker.” I used Faith’s new surname. I didn’t want to startle Charity by admitting in front of those people that I’d married Faith Kalamia. Kalamia is such an unusual name that I felt sure Charity would query the connection. I don’t know how she’d feel about me withholding such important information from her, but it seemed critical that I shouldn’t reveal too much of myself at this stage of our relationship.
Esme looked across at her husband. I turned around and Tate Curley looked at me uncertainly as if I hadn’t convinced him of some point in my story. Heck I could drive an 18-wheeler through the holes in my story. Esme said to me. “Well you’re probably wonderin’ what this is all about.”
“Yes ma’m. I sure do.”
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“Did you know your grandmother remarried after Darris Teeter died? No you probably don’t. Your father was only a small boy when he an’ Gaylord left Appaloosa Plains. Anyways your grandmother married Kim Gould who owned the steakhouse. Husband number three he was. When he passed, Alva Gould, as she was called then, married Tate’s father.” By this time I was more than a little confused. I’d been told my mother was dead. I had even been taken to a grave as a child and told by my father to say goodbye to my mother on the day we left Appaloosa Plains.
“Are you saying my grandmother, born Alva Doris Rigby, married first Gaylord Koffi, then Darris Teeter, then Kim Gould and then Tate’s father?”
“Yup,” Esme replied.
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“Are you certain? I was told that Alva Koffi had died and that was why Gaylord and Gobias senior left Appaloosa Plains.”
“Well I know nuttin’ ‘bout why Gaylord and Gobias left but they left the day after Alva married Darris Teeter. We are certain about that. We got copies of all the certificates here if you want to see them? We couldn’t find any records of Gobias senior ever marryin’ or havin’ children.” That didn’t surprise me, neither could I, and I knew where to look.
“Was Tate born before Alva married his father?” I had to ask.
“Almost! Alva married Billy-Bob Curley only five weeks afore she had Tate,” said Esme. Oh my God! Tate was my half brother!
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Esme continued as my mind reeled taking in all this. “Alva gave birth to Tate in the spring but by the fall she’d skedaddled to Lucky Palms an’ there she stayed. Billy-Bob wouldn’t give her a divorce so she stayed Alva Curley til she passed. That was nearly seven years ago. She was one of them lounge singers in that big casino there, before the meteor strike, that was. That didn’t kill her. She died of old age. When she died the only will the authorities in Lucky Palms could find was very old an’ out of date. In that will she’d left everythin’ to her only son, Gobias Rigby Koffi. But we know that your father was not her only child. Tate contested the will, of course. As the will didn’t talk ‘bout Tate at all, he had a rightful claim on her estate an’ he got half.” I was stunned! I had a brother! I had family! Suddenly my father’s desire to leave to Appaloosa Plains became obvious. He had not been grieving my mother’s death but her defection. That also explained why he did not want to return here when I offered him the choice.
“Okay,” I said. “If I believe what you say is true. Why were you looking for me?
“To pass on to Gobias his share of the inheritance,” said Tate. “I have been looking after our mother’s estate but I wanted to find Gobias to hand over his share before I passed. Where is your father?”
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“My father is dead,” I said truthfully. “He rests in the Pleasant Rest Graveyard in Sunset Valley.”
“Sunset Valley?” queried Esme, “You two sure moved around a lot. We was told you’d gone to Simfield. When Tate an’ I went there, we was told you was headed for Twinbrook so we went there too. We couldn’t find any trace of you there but the police officer said he’d keep a look out for people named Koffi. Nice man he was. I still got his card here. I guess we better tell him we found you ourselves.” We never went to Simfield or Twinbrook. My memories are old and somewhat vague but I’m certain we flew straight from Appaloosa Plains to Sunset Valley.
“Did Alva have any more children?” I asked dazed at the story I’d just heard.
“Not that we could find,” replied Tate. “Just Gobias an’ me.”
“What properties are you concerned about?” I asked.
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Tate just stared at me as if I’d offended him so Esme answered, “The Kim Gould Steakhouse an’ the office space above it, the Darris Teeter Art Theatre an’ the Darris Teeter Grocery & The Koffi Cafe.”
“Don’t forget the house on Sweetapple Ridge Way,” reminded Tate. I was taken aback. We had lived on Sweetapple Ridge Way. Were they talking about my childhood home?
“Well aparently, that house was never hers. It always belonged to Gaylord but Alva had the legal right to use it until her death. That house now belongs to Gobias Koffi senior. As his only child, I guess that should pass to you too.”
Wow, I thought! Alva Doris Koffi-Teeter-Gould-Curley sure got around. She seemed to have acquired rich husbands with property. Had her lifetime wish been a Gold-Digger? If so marrying Billy Bob Curley didn’t net her anything except his name and another son. I knew next to nothing about her it seemed. Yet I always thought I’d remembered her fairly well.
She was pretty and friendly. She was a marvellous cook, an avid reader, technophobic and a total drama queen. A career as a lounge singer probably suited her. If I’d known she was still alive, I’d have visited her. But perhaps I would not have mentioned that to my father. I had been told Alva had died after a fall from a horse. My mother did ride but not very well. I never questioned my father’s version of events. I never had any reason to.
“Well thank you Tate, for trying to find me and for looking after my father’s interests all these years. But as I have no intention of acquiring property here in Appaloosa Plains, I’d like to see your lawyers and if it’s acceptable to you, to sign over my rights to any property to you, Tate. You could parcel it out amongst your children if you don’t want it for yourself.”
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“Esme an’ me don’t have kids.” Tate said shrugging his shoulders. “An’ I’m too old to keep track of everythin’ now. I been tryin’ to find your father for a long time. Never thought to look in a cemetery.”
I don’t know why he didn’t consider that the obvious place to start. Given that Gobias Koffi was older than Tate, who already thought he had one foot in the grave. The cemetery records would have been one of the first places I’d look. But then Tate didn’t have my years of police work and investigative skills to call on. But notwithstanding that, he wouldn’t have found Gobias Koffi in any graveyard. But he would have found Gaylord and that would have led him to me.
“I don’t want your share of the property, young Gobias. I wanted you to have mine when Esme and I have passed,” said Tate. “Them city slicker types keep callin’ on me hopin’ I’ll sell. But as long as I draw breath, I ain’t sellin’ this land. I kinda like the idea of stickin’ it to them by passin’ the place on to whatever kin I could find.”
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I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t need my mother’s or Tate’s property. I hadn’t planned to stay long in Appaloosa Plains. It was just meant to be a quick visit to walk down memory lane.
Charity spoke up. “When Gobias and I drove into town we saw parks for cats and dogs. There is probably one for horses somewhere here too. So why not turn the land into a park or garden or someplace nice where families with children can go?” suggested Charity thoughtfully. She had sat beside me in silence all that time but had obviously taken in everything said. I looked at her and noticed that she looked excited but just a little bit tired. I’d been so wrapped up in Tate and Esme’s story that I momentarily forgotten about her wellbeing.
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“That’s a lovely suggestion Cassie,” said Esme hastily. “Tate an’ I will think things through before we make up our minds. In the meantime, Gobias, why don’t you go over to the house at Sweetapple Ridge Way an’ see if there’s anything there you want first. I’d better give the Riffins a call. I imagine that Cal Riffin is worried what’s happened to Cassie all this time. Tate an’ I will drive Cassie home. If you’re up to it, we’ll meet you at the lawyer’s office at noon to work this out? How does that sound?”
Charity looked inquiringly at me and I shrugged my lack of understanding at her while Esme Curley whipped out her phone and dialled a number. “Hi Cal. Esme. Esme Curley. Just a quick call to say that Cassie is with us an’ we’ll bring her home shortly... What! The heck you say! Cassie is there with you? She can’t be... she’s sitting right here in my house not ten feet from me... Uh huh... Well I’ll be darned... Uh huh...Spittin’ image... Uh huh... Sure thing...”
“Well dang!” exclaimed Esme Curley putting her phone away. She took Charity by the hand, “Cassie would like to meet you! She’s on her way. You two have gotta be sisters. It seems today must be a day for family reunions!”
I knew that Charity had a sister but they were as alike as chalk and cheese. Charity looked at me with excitement, “I have a sister?” she asked.
“Yes but she doesn’t look anything like you. I very much doubt that this Cassie could be your sister. But your father is a fairy so anything is possible. I have not seen him for a very long time. He could have married again and had another daughter.”
“Do I have any brothers?”
“You didn’t when I knew your family.”
“How well could you have known my family? You’re too young,” she said clearly exasperated at my vagueness.
I was saved from answering by the doorbell.
“This’ll be Cassie. I’ll let her in,” said Esme Curley eagerly. Esme greeted her outside. I could barely hear their greeting because Tate Curley had picked that moment to rustle around the kitchen. I did hear Esme ask Cassie to close her eyes.
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I could feel Charity tense beside me. “I’m going to close my eyes too,” she whispered to me. But she reached across and grabbed my hand to hold. I saw Tate sit down again at the dining table but at the other chair. So he had the best view of everything that would unfold.
Esme led Cassie to the chair she had vacated and gently sat her into the chair. When Cassie sat down and faced us, I was shocked. Cassie was a carbon copy of Charity. This was no sister, this was a clone.
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