At Wick's End - Tim Myers [2]
The attorney said, “No, I’m afraid it was an accident.”
“Just don’t tell me it happened in a car,” I said. I’d lost both my parents on my twenty-first birthday to a drunk driver, the last birthday I ever celebrated or acknowledged.
“No, she fell off a ladder at her candlemaking shop.”
I couldn’t believe it. “What was she doing on a ladder at her age? No, never mind that, nobody has to tell me how stubborn she was.” Though we’d lived just a few hours apart, I hadn’t made any real effort to keep up with Belle since I’d been on my own. Even when I’d moved to Red Creek six months ago, a bustling little town just twenty minutes away, it hadn’t increased the time we spent together. Belle and I stuck to our old habits. Once or twice a year we’d have lunch together, but otherwise we both led our own lives.
And now I regretted every opportunity I’d passed up over the years to see her.
“Mr. Black, there are important matters that need to be discussed immediately. Can you come by my office in an hour?”
Suddenly following up those sales leads wasn’t all that important. “Just tell me where you are and I’ll be there.”
After I hung up the telephone, I stared at a photograph on the small desk tucked into one corner of my cramped apartment. It was of Belle and me together taken twenty years before, my hand firmly in hers as we walked across a footbridge at the park.
And I felt the lightness of her touch all over again.
I decided to take a shower before keeping the appointment. Even as the spray washed away my tears as I mourned for her, I wished it could do something about scouring the heavy sadness in my heart.
The attorney, Lucas Young, turned out to be nothing like his voice. I’d imagined a tall lanky fellow with ruffled black hair when we’d talked on the telephone. Instead, what I found was a portly little man with a hairline receding faster than a snowman melting in the spring. At least the wisps of remaining hair still had a dark hue, so I hadn’t been completely wrong.
“Harrison, again, please accepts my condolences.”
“Thanks,” I said as I took a seat across from his desk. I’d managed to pull myself together after an extended shower that had drained the last of the hot water from my tank. Drops took care of the redness in my eyes, but there was nothing that could disguise the sudden weariness that had overcome me. “What’s so urgent? Do I need to make the arrangements for the funeral?”
“No, no,” he waved a hand in the air as he studied the papers in front of him. “Your aunt, great-aunt,” he corrected himself immediately, “took care of all that herself. She didn’t want a fuss. The cremation’s already taken place, and there will be no service of any kind, per her orders. I’m afraid she was most emphatic about that point”
“When did she die?” I asked.
“Sometime late Sunday evening. I’m afraid she wasn’t discovered until Monday morning.”
“And it took you a full day to call me?”
He said, “Please understand, this was your great-aunt’s wish, not my whim. She was quite matter-of-fact making her arrangements. There was to be absolutely no fuss at all.”
I had to smile, a reaction I was sure would make Young think I was some kind of ghoul, but I’d heard Belle expound on the pointlessness of funerals all my life, and I was glad she’d stuck to her guns to the end.
“So why am I here?” I asked.
“As her only living relative, you stand to inherit her entire estate,” the lawyer said.
“I can’t imagine Belle had all that much,” I said, “and I certainly don’t feel the need to discuss it right now.”
The attorney held up one hand. “I understand, it’s a natural reaction. However, your great-aunt,” he looked pleased at remembering her correct title, “insisted we do this her way.” At that, Young smiled gently. “She was