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“That’s it?” It seemed like a lot of work just to deliver some paperwork to someone I never knew existed. My hand shook as I reached for the tumbler before slamming the remaining contents in one gulp.
Susan read my mind, rising. She took my glass, went to the wine cabinet across the room, and refilled it. When she returned, she, too, had a full glass in hand.
“That’s it,” John replied, as he planted his palms firmly on the tabletop and leaned forward slightly.
“Ok,” I scratched at an imaginary spot on my cheek, “so let me get this straight.” I started, “I have to travel a thousand miles across the country to deliver an envelope, then I get my inheritance?” I felt stupid repeating it because it seemed so simple, but in reality, it was so completely complicated.
He nodded, and I couldn’t help but snap, “Why can’t I just mail it?”
I flashed angry eyes over my shoulder at Susan, who’d settled against the chair with her arm across the back. She snorted at the look on my face.
John grinned, and I wanted to reach across the desk to strangle him.
“Your mother knew you’d ask that,” he reached back into the desk drawer and pulled out another envelope, but this one was sleek and white. I immediately recognized Mother’s winding handwriting on the front.
“That will explain everything.” John nodded toward the paper in my grasp before he shut and locked the desk drawer and stood.
He rustled up the pages of Mother’s will and all the other documents he had scattered on the wood surface before closing his briefcase with a click of the latch. I stared at the envelope in my hands, and my fingers ached to open it. Because regardless of the fact that my Mother lied to me my entire life, I couldn’t wait to read her last words. All the money in the world wouldn’t bring back the one thing I wanted the most.
Her.
I already knew I’d deliver whatever she asked me to because pleasing her meant more to me than any of the money or prestige that came with being her daughter.
Susan and I exchanged glances before turning and watching John leave Mother’s study. I looked down at the envelope again, feeling a burning sensation underneath that I knew meant this would be painful to read for more reasons than were obvious.
CHAPTER 2
Who knew my mother could be so vague? She was always so chatty, and when she gave me orders, which she rarely did, her demands were lengthy and detailed. So, to say I was surprised at what her letter said doesn’t come close to how I actually felt. Astounded was a better description, or maybe flabbergasted. Or stunned even.
I tucked the white paper, mimicking how Mother had neatly folded it, and slid it back into the envelope. I raised my gaze, and before my eyes met Susan’s, I could feel her stare and knew what she was thinking. That Mother’s cancer must have spread to her head before she passed. That was the only explanation for…whatever this was.
A scavenger hunt or a wild goose chase, I wasn’t yet sure which one.
A journey that would lead me to a stranger. Did she not value my life at all? What if he was a serial killer who hunted dark-haired women? That’d be my luck. An uncle I never knew existed, and that would likely want to break off a piece of his dear old sister’s fortune.
Susan rounded the desk and arranged everything back to its previous resting place, just as Mother had left it. I watched her scowling from the chair. I was dying to throw the letter into the flames, my fingers twitching with the effort not to.
“So,” Susan began, coming to stand before me. “I’m dying to know what it said, do tell!” She leaned against the wall beside the fireplace, her arms crossed lazily over her ample bosom. Her finely trimmed and sculptured brows rose in curiosity.
“Nothing, that’s the problem.” I huffed out an annoyed laugh. I waved the envelope in front of my face and seriously considered tossing it into the fireplace again. But I stopped myself just before it fluttered in that direction.
“It lists bullet points with tasks I must complete to receive my inheritance.”
“What’s the big deal, Dahl? You want the money and this house, don’t you?”
I grimaced because I did want it, but “It’s not an inheritance if I have to earn it, Susan,” I complained. My earlier thoughts shot out of my mouth like a bullet out of a shotgun, and Susan chuckled.
“Oh, it won’t be so bad. Just do as she asked, then all of this,” Susan paused and raised her hands, palms to the sky, as her eyes roamed the expanse of the room.
“Will all be yours.” She finished with a gleam of amusement.
“Ugh,” I grumbled, slumping into the seat in defeat.
“So, when do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.” I snarled. My fate now sealed. I tipped my glass toward Susan, nodded, and silently prayed I could find Uncle Jack quickly and return home expeditiously.
Find Jack Lawrence in Strawberry Flats, California, at his last known address—16579 Fields Drive, seventeen miles off the main road. Take a right from the highway. The cabin will be on the right.
