Chapter 13
1534 Words
Chapter Thirteen
I was jacked-up and ready to roll. I decided to start my action items by contacting the individuals and organizations involved with the adoption. First on my list was Mavis Baumgardner of the Sterling Joy Agency. I used the phone number from the documentation in the Winestone’s safety deposit box and received a “number is no longer in service” recording, so I called directory assistance. There was no listing under the Sterling Joy Agency, Mavis Baumgardner or any Baumgardner, for that matter, in Chicago or any of the surrounding areas. Perhaps they moved out of the state? It wouldn’t be all that surprising, considering it had been almost thirty years.
I searched the Internet, and while there was no listing or website for the agency, I did find a tidbit in a twenty-five-year-old business journal-type article that read “…Maxwell Baumgardner and his wife, Mavis, founders of the Sterling Joy Agency, have decided to close their doors after years of service to the community. When interviewed, Mr. Baumgardner indicated the decision had been based on the desire to spend more time with family and to pursue other opportunities.”
I wondered what those “other opportunities” might have been, so I continued my search. Two hours later, I had nothing. Nada. It appeared as though the Baumgardners had fallen off the face of the earth. I said appeared, not had. I had one more trick up my sleeve—a crack-shot newspaper reporter and researcher extraordinaire—my BFF, Leah. I started a to-do list for her. Generous of me, I know. Seriously, the girl lives for the stuff.
Next on my list was Jonathan Silverton, the Winestone’s former lawyer. This time, the number worked, however, I awkwardly learned he had passed a few years earlier after suffering a massive stroke. His widow, Jeannie, was remarkably pleasant, and though I was somewhat vague about my reason for calling, seemed happy to have a distraction from her shows.
She had heard about the Winestone’s accident on the national news and apologized for my loss. Ok, I might have told her I was Victoria’s sister, but she drew her own conclusion about my relationship to the Winestones.
According to Mrs. Silverton, her husband had been in private practice for the better part of his career, though she made no mention of the Sterling Joy Agency. I asked if she knew what had become of his case files, and she said no. I believed her. She was probably one of those wives who had no idea what their husbands did during the day and didn’t care to know, just as long as they came home for dinner. Now, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that, it just wouldn’t work for me. Disclaimer: This is solely the opinion of a single woman in her late twenties—please feel free to draw your own conclusions.
Anyway, as it was clearly a dead-end, I thanked the nice lady for her time, and we said our goodbyes. It wasn’t all for nothing. I did come up with some nice to-dos for Anna’s list. Yup, still spreading the generosity.
Before contacting the University of Chicago Medical Center, I did some quick research. Cheryl Earley had been an administrator at the time Victoria and I were born. Turns out, she still was, but nowadays, she was a little higher up on the food chain.
Unfortunately, in my experience, the higher up you are, the more assistants there are between you and Jill Public, aka me. As expected, it took me quite a few transfers to get to the point where I was granted access to Ms. Earley’s voicemail.
Imagine my surprise when Cheryl Earley picked up. Avoiding the crazy, sordid details, I stuck with the basics and told Ms. Earley I was trying to track down information surrounding my adoption—that my sister and I had been born at UCMC almost thirty years earlier and both of our parents had died a short time later, resulting in our adoptions with a local agency. I was about to go on, but she stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Oh my goodness,” she whispered, “you’re one of the twins.”
“You know about me?” I croaked. “About my family?”
“I could hardly forget. I had recently been promoted to my first administrator position. You and your sister had been born prematurely—by a couple of weeks if I remember correctly—but you were both healthy. And your mother, she was doing great. Then, all of a sudden, she wasn’t. She went so fast. They couldn’t save her…” she trailed off. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“No, no…please, it’s why I called.” I told her of my adoptive parent’s deaths, Victoria’s—then Ella—parent’s deaths and finally, about Victoria’s murder.
I waited for her response. And waited. Then, I realized I’d made a colossal error in judgment. I was convinced she was going to hang up on me.
Instead, she surprised me. “Arianna, I’m so sorry, for all the loss you’ve had to endure. If only things could have been different. It’s almost as though your mother’s death set off a chain reaction that would follow you for the rest of your life.” I would later reflect on the truth of that statement. “What can I do to help?”
“I’m still trying to get my head around all of this. I’ve run into nothing but brick walls so far, but perhaps you can help me find out more information about my birth parents—any documents, records, etc. that might still exist. Anything, no matter how insignificant it seems, could lead to something.”
“Please dear, call me Cheryl. I think I can help. Records dating back that far are archived at an understaffed, off-site facility. It’s going to take some time, but I might have a way to cut through some of the bureaucratic red tape. Here’s what we’ll do—give me your e-mail address.”
After I rattled off my email, she continued, “I’m going to e-mail you the standard medical record request form. Just fill out the basic parts and e-mail it back to me, along with a copy of your current birth certificate and driver’s license. Once I’ve got it, I’ll fill in all the nitty-gritty details—with the appropriate codes—so you get anything and everything related to your parents. Believe me, when I’m done, if one of your birth parents broke a foot and had it casted here when they were twelve-years-old, you’ll know about it.” I chuckled.
“Anyway, I know the director over there. He owes me a favor. I’ll call and give him a heads-up, then send a messenger to place the request and your documents right into his hands. When his people are done, I’ll have him do the same back to me, and I’ll ship it to you overnight. Will that work, Arianna?”
“Heck, yes. Th-thank you,” I stammered, before attempting to collect my wits. “A couple of questions, though?”
Cheryl laughed. “Shoot.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Cheryl, but why are you helping me? Aren’t you risking a lot?”
Again, she laughed, but perhaps a bit more tersely. “Call me jaded. Or perhaps I’ve become too complacent over the years, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to do the right thing for the right reasons. And this feels right. Plus, you caught me on a good day.” It was my turn to chuckle.
“Whatever the reasons, thank you, again. This means a lot to me.”
“I know it does. You said a ‘couple’ of questions?”
“Oh yeah, please call me AJ? All of my friends do.”
“Certainly, AJ. I’d like to hear how this turns out.”
As promised, I had an e-mail from Cheryl waiting in my Inbox shortly after the call ended. I quickly filled out the section she’d highlighted, scanned my birth certificate and driver’s license and e-mailed them back with another quick thank you.
I know I should have been ecstatic following the call with Cheryl—a part of me was—but I also worried it would lead to more questions. What is it they say about not looking a gift horse in the mouth? Perhaps said horse should just kick my butt now and be done with it.
While I’d been talking to Cheryl, Anna had emailed Sir Edward Harrington’s home and cell phone numbers and indicated she’d given him a head’s up—he would be expecting my call—so I kept it to the basics, leaving him enough of a message on his cell to elicit a return call.
After that, I took a couple of minutes to jot down a few to-do items I’d conjured up for Anna, Leah and myself throughout the day. I decided to wait until I heard back from Sir Edward before touching base with them regarding these items, just in case I needed to add a few more.
LEAH
Maxwell & Mavis Baumgardner / Sterling Joy Agency
Question: What happened to the Sterling Joy Agency?
Question: What “other opportunities” did the Baumgardners have in mind?
Question: What became of the couple?
Martin Singer / Bio dad
Question: Are there other details surrounding his suicide?
ANNA
Jonathan Silverton / Winestone’s lawyer
Question: What happened to Silverton’s files once he retired?
Question: Who are the Winestone’s other lawyers?
Question: Did the other lawyers know about Silverton?
Question: Did Silverton procure the birth certificates and/or my parent’s address at the Winestone’s request (provided they did not come from the Baumgardners)?
AJ
Sir Edward Harrington / Winestone family friend
Question: Did he know Jonathan Silverton?
Question: Did the Winestones know my parents?
Cheryl Earley / UCMC Administrator
Awaiting records on Martin Singer and Alison Anders / bio parents
Other
Question: Did the birth certificates and/or my parent’s address come from the Baumgardners, despite Mrs. Baumgardner’s resolve to the contrary (provided they did not come from Silverton)?
Once completed, I reviewed my to-do items and chuckled as I flashed on a quote from Nero Wolfe to Archie Goodwin, “…I didn’t say this [exercise] would be useful, only that it could be useful…”
At this point, I could only hope Abe, Elijah and Anna were faring better.
- Writer
