That night, David and Mitzi were thrilled when she called and told them. Mitzi said, “Oh, Maggie, as much as I hate to give it up, I can’t help but wonder if you weren’t supposed to have it all along. Isn’t it strange how things work out?”
After she hung up, Maggie had to smile. It wasn’t so strange how things had worked out. Hazel had been right about people all along; they never do really die, they just go on and on. Just when they had thought that all was lost, little Hazel had come riding in on her white horse and saved them once again. Now everything made sense. No wonder Hazel had stopped her from jumping in the river. After all, Hazel had always said “Don’t give up before the miracle happens.” And if this wasn’t a miracle, Maggie didn’t know what was.
A FEW DAYS afterward, Audrey got home from the Brookwood Mall and stopped at her mailbox and was surprised to see a personal letter addressed to her. She rarely ever received a real letter anymore. It was always bills or ads or a fake letter that was really an ad. But inside this envelope was a cashier’s check made out to her for a hundred thousand dollars; no note, just the check. She didn’t know who had sent it or if it was a real check or a fake, so she didn’t want to get too excited until she could go down to the bank and find out, on the off chance that it was real. Oh, the things she would do. The first thing she would do would be to get all dressed up and take herself out to a fine restaurant and enjoy herself for a change. Why, she could think of a hundred little things she needed and some she didn’t.
The same day, the Visiting Nurses Association and the Humane Society received nice checks, and a fund for the annual Hazel Whisenknott Easter Egg Hunt was established. Maggie thought her friend would have liked that.
MAGGIE COULD HARDLY believe it. Her life was going to have a happy ending after all. Crestview would be hers. She could hang Thanksgiving corn on the door, Christmas lights, Halloween witches, flags on the Fourth of July; place eggs and baskets of white lilies on the front lawn at Easter. It would be hers to decorate forever. To Maggie, it wasn’t just the house, the bricks and stone. It was the idea behind it; it was a constant reminder of beauty, grace, and symmetry. To her, Crestview was a dream that one man had imagined, a dream that had come true and still stood all these many years later. And then, too, something Hazel used to say about the one little candle came to mind. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was supposed to keep that one little candle burning as best she could. If nothing else, who knew, maybe someday a little girl might look up on the mountain and be inspired the way she had been. There had to be something left for people to look up to and dream about, didn’t there?
OF COURSE, ETHEL said that with all our problems these days, it was just the beginning of the end for Western civilization. Maybe so, but Maggie, for one, was going to hang on to it for as long as she could because no matter what ugly things people said about it, she liked Western civilization. It was just so civilized. And, okay, maybe we weren’t perfect, but my heavens, hadn’t we given the world movie stars, musical comedies, electricity, baseball, hot dogs and hamburgers, not to mention Disneyland? And if anyone thought women would give up their equal rights now that they had them, they needed to talk to Brenda. She, for one, could tell them that that just wasn’t going to happen. Just like the old iron statue of Vulcan, Maggie would stand up on the hill overlooking the city she loved. And just the other day, she had seen a bumper sticker on a car being driven by a young man that read, LIFE DOESN’T SUCK! Crudely put, perhaps, but the message was certainly hopeful… She hadn’t liked the way she’d started out in life, but she sure loved the way she was ending up. Maggie began to think that maybe she didn’t have to change. Maybe it was all right to be who she was. Just a little bit out of step with the rest of the world, but very happy.
Then all of a sudden, an idea hit her. Hazel had always said, “Look around and see what the public needs, then supply it.” That was it. She certainly could see the need, and she could supply it. She went to her desk and started to turn on her computer, but then stopped. No, something as important as this should be written by hand; at least the first draft. She pulled out a sheet of paper and started outlining the chapters for her new book entitled:
Real Estate Etiquette
by
Margaret Anne Fortenberry
Outline
Chapter One
For Sellers
Showing Your Home
a) Do not remain at home during a showing
b) Do take your animals and children with you
c) No dirty dishes left in sink, please
Chapter Two
For Buyers
Looking for a Home
a) As a courtesy, leave your animals and children at home
b) No rude comments while attending an open house
c) If you do not care for the home, try not to insult the real estate agent
Chapter Three
For Agents
a) Leave your animals and children at home
b) Try not to speak ill of other agents
c) Do not steal other agents’ listings
First she would finish the book; then hopefully, she’d enjoy many more years at Crestview; then over to St. Martin’s in the Pines for bridge, lovely bus trips, and maybe golf lessons; and then, too, in the meantime, there was Charles.
As it turned out, he had been a widower for over six years and had called her and told her he was moving back home for good in a month and would love to take her to dinner. And if that wasn’t a good enough reason to be glad she hadn’t jumped in the river, she didn’t know what was.
Of course, as the new owner of Crestview, she was now also the new owner of the Crocker skeleton and was left with the responsibility of deciding what to do with it. Maggie thought about that. She knew that if people found out the truth about Edward Crocker, there would naturally be a lot of talk; anything involving someone’s sexual life (dead or alive) was fodder for the worst kind of titillation and gossip, and his life would wind up being just another amusement for people to speculate about; all the good he’d done forgotten, and just the one fact remembered. Maggie decided that he deserved more dignity than that. So in the end, the Edward Crocker legacy would remain exactly as it was: Edward Crocker, a kind and generous human being who had been lost at sea. She would have the remains buried in the gardens below, and they would remain at Crestview with her.
It was the least she could do.
Life continued to be full of unexpected surprises. Not more than a month after Babs Bingington bought Red Mountain Realty, her hotshot money manager in New York (the one she had pushed and shoved to get to) was hauled off to jail, and she was completely wiped out in one day. She had to sell everything. It was a terrible blow and quite a comedown, after owning her own agency, to now have to apply for a job as just another agent. She submitted a job application to the brand-new owner of Babs Bingington Realty, Ethel Clipp. No surprise, she was turned down flat.
As for Maggie, she had heard people say, “Be careful what you wish for, and make sure it’s what you really want.” All her life, Maggie had imagined she would be happy if only she could live in a big beautiful home atop Red Mountain. And whether it was luck or not, she had been right. She loved living in the house as much as she’d dreamed she would, even more so.