The Motherlode

The little café on Church street buzzed with the usual hum of activity belonging to small town coffee shops. The hum of the machinery, murmurs of people talking, and sound of coffee pouring was always soothing to Isabella Cadeaux. There were few places so conducive to writing as coffee shops, with their perceived air of invisibility and a sense of tranquil coziness. It was easy for anyone to slip into a different skin than to be all of who they were. To hide behind a computer instead of face their reality.



Isabella let out a sigh, and closed her laptop, trying to sip her latte with some semblance of decorum. She hoped that her face was smoothed into a cool expression and that she didn’t look as run down and defeated as she felt. She’d sent in another 120 job applications this morning while the kids were at school, but it was time to face the facts. No interview would come soon enough to save her home from foreclosure. There were two days left until she had to leave the house, and haul her two boys into the car, where they would have to live until she could find a job willing to take her. But what kind of place would want a journalist who hadn’t followed a story in three years? She’d never once regretted staying home to raise her children, but she’d thought that she would have been able to do that with a partner making money on the side. Clearly, she’d been mistaken. 



She moved her laptop into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder with a soft grunt. Tossing her Latte cup in the trash with a hollow thunk, she made her way outside, listening to the click of her heels on the sidewalk. There was much to do now. She had to get home, pack more boxes, get the boys from school, help them with their homework, make dinner, put in some more applications, and put them to bed. The stay at home mother’s life was a race that could never be completed, only ran.



I need a miracle to survive this. She thought.



She was so caught up in her thoughts that she nearly missed the little book sitting neatly in the middle of the sidewalk. It was only the light sparkling off of a few small glass shards that alerted her to it’s presence. Thinking it a wallet at first, she picked it up. A smooth black cover hid not money, but dozens of blank pages. She checked, but no name was written inside. However, not one to pass up the opportunity, she promptly slipped it into her bag. If Christian or Anthony needed a notebook for school before she got a job, this would do in a pinch.



And then, she promptly forgot about it as the day went on, and she was stuck in the black hole of single parenthood.



It wasn’t until dinner, when Christian had mentioned having to do a book report for school that she remembered it, still nestled in her satchel.



“What book are you reading for class, sweetie?” She’d asked him.



“The Wish Giver!” He’d told her. “It’s this person that comes to a town and gives these people in a shop some cards they can wish on but all the wishes go wrong.”



“Sort of a “careful what you wish for” story, huh?”



“Yeah, but I just think the cards weren’t good. Everybody knows you have to write a wish and not let anyone see it to make it come true.”



“No you don’t! You just make the wish in your head and don’t tell anybody for it to come true.” Anthony interjected with the authority and irritation that only an older sibling could have.



“Nuh Uh!”



“Uh Huh!”



After breaking up the ensuing fight between them, and placating them both with promises of peach cobbler for dessert, she occupied the boys with some TV while she tried to apply to some more jobs. In the back of her mind, however, the little black book, now combined with the words of her children, remained.



She put them to bed at the usual time, Everything apart from their actual mattresses, bedding, and a few sets of clothing having been all packed away. As she kissed them on the forehead and went to leave, Christian’s small voice stopped her.



“Mommy?”



She turned to him. “Yeah, baby?”



“Do we have to move? I like it here.”



“I know. But Mommy’s going to have a new job soon, and she needs to be close to it. Hopefully you’ll still be at school with your friends. I’m going to try my best to make sure you can stay there.” She said.



“But I want to stay here, Mommy!”



“I know, honey. I do too. But you’ll have fun and make new friends when we move. And we can always wave hi to this house if you ever miss it. Okay?”



“Okay. Night, Mommy.”



“Goodnight.”



Shutting his door, she went to her room and locked the door behind her. Standing near the threshold of her bedroom, she let out a quiet sob. The intense and overwhelming sensation that she’d overwhelming. Sinking onto the carpet, she realized for the first time just how few boxes it took to make up a person’s life. Apart from her mattress, bedding, chargers, and a few pieces of paper and writing utensils, nothing was left of her in the room that had once been the center of her life. Where she and her husband had danced after their wedding, where they’d kept their first child with them through his first six months of life, where she’d sobbed impotently for hours after realizing her husband was really gone, and where she’d comforted her boys after too many nightmares of Daddy leaving. This room was a haven, and now it’s Edenic doors were closing on her, leaving her bereft of her imagined paradise.



Grabbing the small little notebook from her bag, she carefully tore a page from it, and began to write her wishes, one by one, on the lined paper.



I wish we didn’t have to move.


I wish had enough money to be able to stay home with my kids if they wanted me to.


I wish I was a better mother.



A tear droplet stained the page, but she folded up the piece of paper and tucked it into her satchel, where it would always be with her, reminding her of her goals in life. After a good cry, she removed her make up, changed into her nightgown, and promptly fell asleep.



When morning dawned, she awoke not to the blaring of an alarm clock, but to the ringing of her cell phone.



Groggy, she grabbed it and held it to her ear. “Hello?”



“Isabella? This is Jack Quintell from the Offices of Kent, Barn, and Smith. I’m an affiliate of Mark Singer, who's been handling your foreclosure case. He’s out of the office today. I’m sorry to call you so early but I have some important news about your home."



“What is it?” She asked, still drowsy.



“The Judge has dismissed your foreclosure case.”



She sat up, bolt right in bed. “What?”



“Turns out Carter Klein Realty didn’t follow the state’s procedure correctly. The judge dismissed it. You still have some time.”



“Oh my…” She breathed. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”



“I’ll call you in a few weeks with more details. Take care of yourself.”



“You too, thank you.” She said, and hung up the phone. In a state of shock, she proceeded to do her morning routine in the bathroom. A little more time was exactly what she needed. As she cooked breakfast, she let the boys know what happened, and they were ecstatic to have a little bit more time in their childhood home. Cheery and chipper all the way to school, they’d both kissed her goodbye- even Anthony who, at ten, was typically disgusted by the action- and declared her the “Best Mommy in the world”. She hoped she could earn those words for them.



When she was on her way back home to unpack a few things she was going to need, her phone rang again, and she answered it through the car.



“Isabella Cadeaux.” She greeted.



“Ms. Cadeaux? This is Jack Quintell again."



“Jack, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you for a few weeks. Did someone get the foreclosure information incorrect?” She asked, frowning.



“No, no. This is a separate matter. My brother Adam represents your Aunt, Claudia Herman’s estate. It seems that she passed away on Tuesday and mentioned you in her will. He overheard our conversation this morning and asked if you would stop by his office on Third Street.”



“Oh… I… Of course. Thank you. Would twenty minutes be alright for him?”



“Perfect.”



“Thank you."



“My condolences.” He said, and hung up.



Making a sharp left at the light ahead of her, she went to the office of Adam Quintell.



The small office with wooden panels felt intimate and cozy as she walked in, defrosting her from the cold of the early December snow. After giving the receptionist her name she was waved into the office with no hesitation, as it was entirely emptied.



Adam Quintell was a stalky little man, with a rounded belly that pooched out and hair greased back with pomade. Still, his smile was friendly and his eyes were bright as he shook her hand.



“Ms. Cadeaux. My condolences on your loss. I apologize for running our meeting through my brother on such short notice but I was called into several meetings early this morning myself.”



“That’s perfectly fine. I understand my Aunt left me something in her will?”



He nodded. “Yes, Claudia Herman left you quite a bit.”



Isabella felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “She did? I mean, we were never close. She was always traveling and I only saw her maybe once a year as a kid.”



“Evidently, she thought a great deal of you, Ms. Cadeaux. Because she left her entire estate to you, including several properties, her life insurance money, and every cent she owned, to the total amount of roughly One Hundred Million Dollars.”



Isabella felt her jaw drop to the floor. “I’m sorry, what?”



“One hundred million dollars in property and assets.” He said. “I expect you’re surprised.”



“Very.” Came the feeble response. “Can I have a glass of water?”



“Certainly.” He said and went to fetch it.



The rest of their meeting afterward was a blur, mainly of paperwork. Somehow, she’d found her way to the car and had began to drive, mind piloting her automatically as she tried to come to grips with the magnitude of what had happened. For some reason, she found her car going back to the little café on Church Street, and stopped it there. She remembered her sons’ words about how to make a wish come true. To never let anyone see or hear it. And she’d done that hadn’t she? Tucked it away in her satchel, for it to fall through the little hole in the lining, never to be seen or heard aloud. It was here she’d prayed for a miracle, and a miracle she’d found.



She got out of the car and began walking down the sidewalk, pausing on the concrete square where she’d found the book. Across the street, a little church was opening it’s doors to let in it’s congregation, their patient father waiting to greet them. Isabella managed to catch his eye as he opened the large wooden doors, and for a moment, there was a look in his eye that she couldn’t quite explain- a kind of knowing that she didn’t understand. Then, a fraction of a second later, he smiled at her.



She crossed the street and filed into the house of worship. It was a good day to give thanks for her many blessings.