I’m sitting at “the lot” (Corner of 62nd and Broadway) at 7 am waiting to see if Anne comes in early to start hiding records.  I can see the lot across 62nd Street to the East where the two grandfather oaks still stand.  In 1981, when Don & I fell in love, our little love nest, a tattered travel trailer was parked between those big trees.  So many wonderful memories flood my mind that it is difficult to record yesterday’s events.  I love and miss him so much.

 

Within 24 hours of Anne telling Don’s girls about his disappearance, they managed to have  a pow wow electing Donna Pettis as their spokesperson and hired Ross Peaveyhouse, Esquire who advertised heavily as a Will & Probate Attorney.  They sure didn’t leave any time for trying to find Don nor for grieving.  Anne & Donna Pettis called me from the office to let me know that they had decided to appoint a conservator (Anne).

 

Anne told everyone that there is no power of attorney, but then told me that she has my Will and the Power of Attorney I gave to Don in 1992 just before our Anniversary.  I asked about the reciprocal Will and Power of Attorney Don gave me that same day and she said it did not exist.  It seems strange that she can find mine, but not his.  They should have been kept together.  I had forgotten about preparing either  of the documents until she reminded me of mine that she had.  When Don had started going to Costa Rica so much we had revised his to add jurisdiction in any Country.  I have been too busy looking for Don and running our business and refuge to spend any great deal of time searching for a lost paper.  After the strange call from Anne and Donna Pettis, I spent the night searching until I located the original Will and Power of Attorney dated 11/96.

 

Knowing how bitter and suspicious of his kids Don was, I am dumbfounded that Anne would think it was okay to invite his daughters down to the office to go through the books and bank accounts.  These are the same girls who tried to take Don to the cleaners via his ex-wife and who Anne says “bald-faced lied” to the court to help their mom get another million dollar settlement four years after the first one.  I spent all day Thursday in the office with her and Madeline and let her hang herself with her own rope.  (A nice little rope trick my mother taught me.)

 

I remember the first Christmas Don and I shared in our little love nest.  Don had set up the cutest little tree and had decorated it all in white angels.  Angel was what Don has always called me.  He was the one who started me collecting angels.  He bought a nameplate for me that said “Angel”.  He brought me little plastic angels and when Pearlie Mae died he sent a ceramic angel praying over a cat.  It still sits on my desk to remind me that “all good kitties go to heaven”.

 

I made curtains for our love nest and tried to make it cheery because often I’d sit there for hours waiting for him to find time to sneak back there to see me.  Don had told me his name was Bob Martin and that he was just a lot boy for his slave driving employer, Don Lewis.  That was why he would have to sneak around to see me.  I was 19 and “Bob” Don was my life.  It was a year or more later before one of Don’s new secretaries accidentally gave away his secret.

 

This just in:  Paul Newman in Costa Rica triplex called to ask when Don’s flight will be arriving on Sunday.  I updated him and he at least pretended to be surprised and said he would call if Don showed up down there.  I told him to let Don know that his kids are seizing his assets and figured that would get Don on the phone right away.

 

Later that day:  I drove to the office 3 hours early and noticed that several other people seemed to be watching the building.  How many laps around the block can you make in a pickup truck towing a boat and not look suspicious?  The little green compact car must have made twenty laps alone.

 

At 9:15 Donna Pettis drives up and tells me that Anne did not want to give