I’d spent most of my life living in the small two-bedroom apartment, and honestly, I felt at home here. It wasn’t the mansion with the magnificent windows and the scary butler ghost, but it’d always been mine. What did that mean? I don’tknow, but I was looking forward to tomorrow morning when I could get to the bottom of the whole thing.
If I’d actually inherited all this stuff, I could finally quit driving and focus on the things I’d wanted or at least thought I wanted before Dad got sick and I had to take on making money. That night I closed my eyes and dreamed of ghostly servants swarming around me.
In the dream, it felt so natural to have spirits tend to my needs, but when I woke up the next morning, only partially rested, I realized ghosts weren’t natural at all. Nothing about my experience yesterday had been.
Chapter eight
Owen
Igot to workearly the following day and immediately remembered I’d promised Shadow, the woman I’d met at the bar, that I’d send her my information and my company’s introductory email. Knowing she wasn’t much for convention, I explained I had to attach the policy because it was required.
My bosses dragged in late to the office, a little after nine, and Cary greeted them as usual with a cup of coffee, drip, of course, just as they liked it. He was such a suck-up. He was also a very sweet man and had gone out of his way to make me feel at home, so suck-up or not, I considered him a friend.
I knocked on Mr. Harrison’s door because he was the one who hired me and was a lot more approachable than Mr. Stages.
“Hi, um, sir. I wanted to ask you more about the will I distributed assets for yesterday.”
“Aah, yes, Elias Ericson’s will. How did that go?” he asked.
“Strangely,” I admitted, and Mr. Harrison laughed.
“Yes, I’m sure it was. Mr. Ericson was an eccentric old fella but a good man. Died just a week ago. I believe he was a hundred and fifteen. Before he died, he was still moving around like a man half that age.”
I cleared my throat to return Mr. Harrison’s attention to me and off the road to memory lane. The firm’s partner tended to get lost on a tangent. “Well, the gentleman who inherited the estate, Damian Richards, wanted more information than I could give him. I expect he’ll be showing up this morning.”
He smiled and nodded. “I’m sure he does want more information. Unfortunately, I’m not sure we can help.”
Just then, Mr. Stages came into the hallway. “I forgot to put this in the folder. Mr. Ericson brought it in week before last. You say the heir intends to come in today?” he asked.
I nodded and backed away so Mr. Stages could enter Mr. Harrison’s office. “Yes, sir. He said he’d be by first thing this morning.”
“Good, good, let me know when he comes in.”
Mr. Stages closed the door to Mr. Harrison’s office, dismissing me. I would’ve been offended, but when I was hired, Mr. Harrison had made it clear his law partner wasn’t good with social convention. He was one of the city’s top tax attorneys though. I guess if you aren’t good with people, tax law is the best option.
I returned to my office to push the piles of paper around a little more, when Cary came to my office door. “He’s here,” he said breathlessly.
I chuckled. “Stop perving on the clients,” I said. Cary quickly looked around to ensure it was just us, then flipped me off.
I laughed like I usually did at Cary’s shenanigans. “Show him into the conference room. I’ll get the partners.”
“No worries, I already let the partners know Damian was here,” he said, disappearing out the door. When I walked into the conference room, I smiled because now that all this business wasn’t on my shoulders, I felt more relaxed. “How are you? Feeling better this morning?” I asked.
Damian shook his head. “No, I had weird dreams all night. That butler ghost scared me more than I thought.”
“It was scary. Oh, one of the partners has more information for you. Hopefully that’ll help.”
Just then, Mr. Harrison entered with Mr. Stages behind him. “Mr. Richards,” they both said as they took his hand in turn before gesturing for us all to sit.
“I’m afraid we can’t give you much more information,” Mr. Harrison said immediately, “than what you received yesterday. All we can share is that Elias Ericson made it clear how his estate was to be distributed. When you appeared with the ring, the process was set into motion.”
“So this isn’t a joke?”
The older men chuckled. “No, this is certainly not a joke. However, I was told to give you this when you collect the keys from us,” Mr. Stages said. “Mr. Ericson made it clear you were to open that on your own. Now, I was instructed to help ensure the Internal Revenue Service doesn’t come knocking. Shall we dive into that?” Mr. Stages said, handing Damian the manila envelope.
I didn’t stick around for the tax conversation. I had too much to do, but I was intensely intrigued by the envelope's contents. Would that explain why the old man had given everything to a stranger? Or the haunting in the attic?
I didn’t know, but it was intriguing enough that I had difficulty focusing on the paperwork from hell. By noon, I was so dug in I’d all but forgotten about Damian and the partners discussing legal stuff in the conference room down the hall.
