Carrying Albert Home by Homer Hickam

Author:Homer Hickam
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

“He did it,” Elsie said in more of a breath than a voice. “Homer did it, Mr. Feldman!”

But Feldman, despite the smile on his face, was quite dead. Elsie didn’t have to be a certified nurse to figure that out as she knelt beside him and took his hand. “I told you if he played, we would win, and we did,” she whispered, putting Feldman’s cooling hand to her hot, flushed cheek.

27

MR. FELDMAN’S ATTORNEY WAS A DIGNIFIED GENTLEMAN by the name of Lewis Carter who had moved to High Top to get away from his two wives in New York City, both of whom he had neglected to divorce and who, upon learning of one another, jointly filed charges of bigamy in the hope of getting his money. What they didn’t know was Lewis Carter had already spent all his money on a string of showgirls.

Fortunately, Carter did not need New York; he also had a license to practice in North Carolina, mainly because he had gone to Duke University. He therefore had a place to abscond from wives, showgirls, and their pursuing lawyers. To date, his Duke frat buddies, which included the Tar Heel State’s governor, were just fine with having him in their fair state and had no intention of sending him back to the Yankees for prosecution, if not persecution. Carter had established himself a fine little practice in High Top, which counted among its clients the very wealthy Mr. Feldman.

Two days after Mr. Feldman died, and well before he could be buried, Lewis Carter sat at the head of a mahogany table and watched with benign interest, and not a little bubbling joy, as Mr. Feldman’s family filed inside. The bereaved widow, Young Mrs. Feldman, was still dabbing at her eyes (although her mascara remained remarkably intact). She was followed by Feldman’s two children, a great lout named Amos and a fat grouch named Ethel, both looking with more than a little disdain at the theatrical grief of their stepmother, who was at least a decade younger than they. “Can it, Louise,” Ethel finally said when Young Mrs. Feldman raised her eyes from her hanky and glanced her way.

“Yes, by all means can it,” Amos declared. “It’s too late for him to change his will so you can wail and gnash your teeth all you like but it will do you no good.”

“Nor us,” Ethel said, whereupon Young Mrs. Feldman stopped crying and, with a faint smile, put her hanky away with a click of her silk purse.

Carter made a steeple with his fingers. “Actually, he changed his will just two weeks ago.”

The shocked looks on all three potential recipients of the Feldman fortune were compounded when the door opened and Elsie Hickam, Feldman’s nurse, walked in. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said.

“Why is she here?” Young Mrs. Feldman demanded. Her stepchildren were having difficulty closing their hanging jaws.

“Because she’s in the will,” Carter said. “Please, Mrs. Hickam. Have a seat. No, here, please, beside me.” After Elsie sat, Carter patted her hand.

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