“It was what she wished,” Lorna replied.
While I listened, stunned, Lorna summarized what happened. My aunt had been found unresponsive in her house and had died of heart failure. “As a witch with an affinity for the earth, she’d arranged for her ashes to be returned to the earth on her passing. It has been done. In addition to the house, she left you some money to help with the upkeep. Can you come to Salem so we can take care of the paperwork in person?”
It took a few seconds for my brain to catch up to this minefield of surprises.
After mentally calculating how many vacation days I had, I figured I could go up on Monday so I wouldn’t lose too many waitressing shifts. How many days would it take to deal with whatever went along with inheriting a house?
“One second, please. I need to pull out my planner.” That was how I kept my life under control, spicing up my schedule and to do lists with fun stickers. I glanced at the days ahead. “How about Monday?”
“Terrific, I’d suggest spending a week or two in town, if you can.”
“That long?” I groaned inside. I didn’t have that sort of vacation time. Plus, I needed my waitressing income to pay my part of the rent. I’d use up all the vacation time I’d saved to return to a town I had zero desire to visit.
“These things take time,” Lorna said. “You’ll also inherit just over fifty thousand dollars.”
Fifty thousand?Wow. That would cover many, many waitressing shifts.
“Depending on what you do with the house, we’ll need to discuss the lease for the existing tenants,” Lorna added.
“Tenants?” Why was I repeating her like a confused parrot?
Confused was among the many emotions running rampant in my brain, playing hopscotch with shock and wonder.
Oh my, this made me a landlord. I was used to paying one, not being one.
Yikes. Home ownership already stressed me out, and I hadn’t even seen the house yet.
After we arranged a time to meet, Lorna ended the call. I put the phone in my jeans pocket, grabbed my coat, and climbed down the stairs to head out of my apartment. What I needed was to clear my head. The scents from the Chinese restaurant at floor level filled the air. Why would my aunt leave the house to me? Didn’t she have anyone closer? Why hadn’t my mother told me that she’d died? They weren’t close, but still.
The only person who could answer these questions was my mom. She was in Myrtle Beach with some rich guy who loved to golf.
I meandered over to a park and kicked through the fallen leaves on the concrete path. The trees had morphed to their autumn splendor, a dress change to reds, oranges, and yellows before the leaves took their dramatic plunge to the earth. The October evening was brisk enough to keep the visitors sparse, and I found an empty bench without a problem.
I Facetimed my Mom. When she answered, her dark blond hair was in rollers. “Oh, hi honey. I’m getting ready to go out with the Donnellys tonight. You remember me telling you about them? They moved here from Connecticut to retire early. He made a killing in the stock market.”
My mom could go on rambling through a conversation. If I didn’t interject, we’d never get to the reason why I called. “Mom, I heard about Aunt Margaret.”
“Oh.” Her careful facade fell to a frown.
“You know she died, right?”
She avoided eye contact, staring at something at floor level. “I do.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She brushed the hair from her temple behind her ear. “Well, you didn’t really know her. I didn’t think I had to tell you right away.”
“She’s your sister. We’re blood.”
My mom snorted and briefly met my gaze. “Just because you’re related doesn’t mean you’d be friends. Half of the time people who share blood would avoid each other at a party at all costs.” Her nostrils flared. “Even worse, you’re expected to donate kidneys or some other vital organ.”
I was an only child and often fantasized about siblings. What would it be like to have a big brother who looked out for me or a little sister who annoyed me?
“Mom, this is your sister you’re talking about. Youronlysibling.”
A flicker of pain flashed in her eyes, but then she pursed her lips in a bitter expression. “We haven’t spoken in years and for good reason.”
“What reason? You never told me.”
