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Ruthie

Little Black Book

By Kari AnnePublished 3 years ago 10 min read
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It was just after 7:30am when Sophie Thompson’s phone went off. Barely awake, she looked at the time and thought that’s not my alarm… She looked closer to see a text from her boss.

“Sophie, sorry to bother you on your day off. Can you please come in for a quick meeting?”

A hundred thoughts flooded her brain all at once. Did something happen? Did she do something wrong? Why would they need her on her day off? Why just a quick meeting? Was it about Ruthie? Could it be that little black book of hers? Whatever it was, Sophie was awake now. She went through the motions of shutting off her alarm, starting the coffee pot, and showering. All while still in a mental fog. She found herself standing aimlessly in front of her closet.

What do I wear on a day off? To work? Usually she spent the day in pajamas but this was her workplace. For a meeting. Scrubs? No. They might think she wants to pick up a shift. Jeans? No. Maybe this meeting is too formal for jeans. Business suit? No, this isn’t a job interview. Why couldn’t she make a simple decision? Because it’s a meeting. After more pacing, she settled on a nicer sweater dress and leggings. Not too business, not too casual, and not out of place for winter in New York city.

As she traveled her usual route of few blocks, bus, few blocks to work, her mind wandered to Ruthie. She had a feeling today was related to her longest and somewhat infamous resident. Ruthie Holmes had a reputation for making nurses and aides run crying from the room. In her previous life, she had built a huge real estate company from the ground up. Sophie still remembered the well-known advertisements. “Trust Holmes to find your perfect home”. For whatever reason Ruthie had only warmed up to Sophie as her nurse. They spent most of their time together talking books. Ruthie always greeted her in the most peculiar way, by calling Sophie “Ruthie”. Sophie just thought it was a side effect of the brain tumor that landed this fierce female CEO into long term care in her later 50s.

Sophie’s mind wandered to the little leather book in her bag. Ruthie was always so evasive about this book. Whenever Sophie brought it up in their book discussions, Ruthie would clam up and say, “That one…No. That’s not done yet.” Sophie had no idea what that meant, or why in their last visit, Ruthie gave it to her. Ruthie had been so vague and secretive about it that Sophie had yet to crack open the leather-bound journal. All Ruthie told her was “it’s not done yet. I’m out of time. Finish it for me please.” Sophie had no idea if it was a story Ruthie had been writing nor was she, herself a writer. As a teen, Sophie dabbled with drawing and illustrating. But when her own mother passed from advanced stage breast cancer, Sophie vowed to follow in her mom’s footsteps as a nurse and help heal the sick and wounded. Ruth Thompson was known for having a heart of gold and the strength of a warrior queen. She was a nurse for decades working in ER until her own diagnosis. Though in her own schooling, Sophie found out she was better with the elderly than with the seriously wounded.

Sophie worried that her shift supervisor found out about a resident giving her something personal. Maybe she was in big trouble for accepting it. But how could she possibly turn down those sad, pleading eyes from Ruthie. She took a deep breath and opened the doors to her work. None of the management team seemed to be around, so Sophie went to say a quick hello to Ruthie. She got down the corridor and stopped at the spotlessly clean room. She’s gone. Sophie felt like a ten-pound weight had dropped into her stomach. She just stared at the books stacked in boxes, the knick-knacks all wrapped in bubble wrap. Ruthie wasn’t in this room anymore. Sophie was too consumed by grief to even notice Claire, the HR manager, come up behind her. Sophie always found Claire to be a very apathetic and distant person. Today was no different, even though Claire attempted a sympathetic smile.

“Ruthie passed in her sleep overnight. I’m sorry for your loss, I knew the two of you had connected well. When you are ready, we’ll head to the conference room.” Claire spoke solemnly.

Sophie knew if Claire was the one to set the meeting, something serious was going on. She nodded and followed Claire into the conference room down the hall. Waiting in the room was another woman that Sophie had never met. She sat across from both of them and took a deep breath. After what felt like eternity, Claire broke the silence.

“Sophie, this is Ruthie’s estate lawyer, Jennifer Greene. Jennifer is here to wrap up the last of Ruthie’s belongings.” Claire introduced. Right as Sophie was wondering what that had to do with her, Jennifer cleared her throat.

“Ms. Holmes has named you in her will. The hearing for Ms. Holmes’s estate is at the end of the week on her estate. I’ll be in contact to arrange for a car to bring you.” Jennifer explained.

“I know that you had a close relationship with Ruthie and that you have always been very careful to keep relationships with residents very professional. But this is a tough situation and an investigation has been opened to determine if this qualifies as a conflict of interest. It’s best that you take some paid time off until this is resolved.” Claire interjected. Sophie’s head was so full, she couldn’t muster more than another nod of her head before leaving.

She didn’t bother to say goodbye to any of the staff working, she just let her legs keep going. Ruthie is gone, she named Sophie in her will, and now because of that, Sophie is on forced paid time off. What was she going to do now? A car horn pulled her back to reality and she realized while on auto pilot, she had walked the five blocks to her favorite coffee shop. She thought back to Ruthie’s morning routines and ordered a green tea. For you, Ruthie. She placed her bag on the table and watched the little black book slide into view. Alright Ruth. What did you leave me to do? She thought to herself.

She cracked the book open to see each page had a different name and piece of paper attached by a paper clip. The first name said “Tony, my limo driver” in Ruthie’s scribble. She opened the folded paper to see a bill of sale for three cars from Ruthie to Tony, and a check for twenty thousand dollars. On the memo line, it read, for new business. Sophie turned the page and saw the same format. Isabell, my hairdresser. This one held a deed for a commercial building, and a check with the same amount. The memo line read, “to own the business and the space”. The third page read Deborah, my assistant. For her was a deed to a penthouse overlooking central park, and a third check for the same amount. This memo line read “Time to be your own boss” Sophie understood now, this list was of Ruthie’s last good deeds. And it was up to her to carry them out. But there was something strange about the last page. All it read was “Trust” with an account number in the memo line. Each of the other checks had first and last names. It wouldn’t be hard to find those people. But what was she going to do with just “Trust”? Sophie checked the time, it was only 10:30am. She finished her tea and flagged a taxi down to take her to the Holmes office building. At the very least, someone there should know where to find these three people.

The Holmes office proved to be fruitful. Not only was Deborah in the office, but after Sophie had explained herself, Deborah had Tony paged to the office and gave Sophie the address of Isabell, the hair stylist as well. Sophie had been able to get to Isabell’s shop just before she closed for the day. Sophie arrived back home and collapsed onto her couch exhausted and confused. I should feel better than this. I found all three people in the same day. I helped Ruthie in her last three good deeds. They were happy. Tony even bear hugged me. Why don’t I feel better? Because you’re not done yet. The little black journal taunted her from her bag. Trust. T.R.U.S.T. What am I supposed to do with that? And that check?

Three days past and Sophie had gotten no further with the last check. The account number was to a local bank, but with only an account number, they couldn’t give her any more information. Jennifer had been in contact with Sophie to arrange a car to take her to the estate meeting of the will. Sophie carried the little black book in her bag, unsure of what to do with it now. She was in awe as the car pulled up to what looked like an updated historical plantation and thought, fitting for Ruthie. Jennifer met her in the driveway and showed her into a smaller version of the library from Beauty and the Beast. Sophie expected a lengthy boardroom table filled with important people. Instead, it was just her and Jennifer in cushioned arm chairs.

“Where is everyone else?” Sophie asked Jennifer. Jennifer smiled, and handed Sophie an aged envelop with two pieces of paper and a photo in it. Sophie recognized the handwriting as Ruthie’s and opened the letter first.

Dear Sophie,

Yes, I know your real name. I never called you Ruthie because I forgot who you were. It was that you looked so much like your mother. By now, you can tell by the photo that I knew your mother. She was my nurse the day the doctor told me that my headaches wouldn’t get better, and that it was inoperable. I’d like to say I was nice to her but I was quite the frosty witch to your mother at first. To everyone. I didn’t take the news well at all. But your mother, that Ruthie, she gave it right back to me but she didn’t give up on me. She stayed way longer than was needed and… yes, she had shared with me her own diagnosis. We bonded over not knowing what the future held. Here I was so concerned with how to leave my booming business and her only concern was her little artist that drew her daily pictures. Sophie your mother was the single most important person in my adult life. Sure, I had plenty of friends in my high-class social circle. But on that day, only she took the time to stay with me. By now you know what that little black book was. Everyone I ever wanted to pay back. The last person on that list, is you, dear Sophie. It’s time to live. Not for your mom. Not for me. But for you.

With a loving heart,

Ruthie

The picture read “Favorite nurse, Ruthie. And her sidekick Sophie”

Sophie didn’t even realize she had tears streaming down her face until Jennifer handed her a tissue. She just stared at a younger, smiling version of her mother and a much younger Sophie. Jennifer handed Sophie the second letter. “Thompson Trust” was the trust on the check and Sophie was the only recipient.

“Her entire estate went to the trust. Including stipends for every semester to art school, totaling twenty thousand dollars each.” Jennifer said softly. Sophie was in complete shock. Everything made sense at last. Ruthie, her little black book, and that check.

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About the Creator

Kari Anne

Single Mother to 5yr old boy. Writer of various genres until I figure out my niche. Endless work in progress. Spent too many years not sharing my writing.

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