The telephone rings and startles me from my sleep.  At first, I’m a little dazed, but the phone rings again to nag me, and I reach over to answer it.

I clear my throat as I pick up the phone.  “Hello?” I ask while rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“Frank, is that you?” the voice on the other end asks.

“Yeah,”  I say, while trying to put a name to the voice.

“I almost didn’t recognize your voice.  Franklin, this is Arne, did I wake you?”

“No, I’ve been up.” I lie while holding back a yawn.

“Oh, good.  Well I was just calling to let you know that Karen and I will be over later to begin gathering Emily’s things.”

“Arne, do you have to do that today? Tomorrow would really be better.”

“Frank, you’ve been saying that for three weeks.  We really cannot wait any longer.  Karen and I will be there in an hour,”

“Oh, come on Arne–”

“I’ll see you in a little while.”

I protest for only a second, then I realize he hung up.  Damn him.  He has nothing better to do than irritate me.  Bastard.  Can’t he just leave me alone for a while?  I mean Emily was my

wife.  My wife.  And now she’s gone.  He hasn’t exactly been sympathetic.  She may have been his sister, but he wasn’t close to her.  He didn’t care about her.  He doesn’t care that she’s dead.  All he can think about is getting back his damn family heirlooms before I do whatever he thinks I’ll do with them.  Is he afraid I’ll hold Emily’s pearls and imagine that she’s alive and still wearing them?  Or that I’ll wipe the dust off of their grandparents’ portrait and think of how much Emily looked like her grandmother?  Or God forbid I run my finger along the edge of the china that she served me food on so many times.  He’s an idiot if he thinks I’ll sell them.  They’re all I have left of Emily.  I’m afraid of what he’ll do with them.  And he’ll be here in an hour to take them back.  Damn him.