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"They claim we owe taxes, and if I don't pay up, they're going to repossess the house." The large lump in my throat made my words sound small and weak. "They'll sell if off to the highest bidder, and I might not even see a cent."
"They can't do that!"
"I know! But..." I splayed my hands outwards in frustration. "What can I do?"
"And what has Terrance got to say?" Benson's voice was indignant.
"I haven't told him yet."
"And why not? That's his job."
"I don't have the money to pay him to deal with this."
Benson shook his head. “Don't you worry about that."
"I have to!" I said, exasperated. "I can't keep him on retainer like my dad did."
"Your father paid him so much money over the years, I wouldn't be surprised if his money paid for that man's ridiculously overpriced house!" It was ironic that Benson saw Terrance’s house overpriced but not ours. "He owes it to you. To your family name."
"I'm not sure a family name means much anymore. Not these days anyway."
He shook his head indignantly. "It does here."
"What makes you think that?"
"Look," his gnarled finger came out to shake at me, "I know you left when you were only seven, but down here, in the south, a name means something. You may not have your father's money, but you have his last name. And, despite the changes over the years, that is the one thing that will never change!”
I shook my head, wanting to believe him, but unable. "It's not like that anymore."
"It is. Trust me, I know.” He suddenly stood, gesturing for me to follow him. "I was waiting for the right time to show you. I guess now is that time.” We made our way down the east wing until we stood outside my father's office. He stopped, staring at me expectantly.
"What?" I shook my head, not understanding. "I've already gone through anything I could find. There's nothing in there."
“Please,” he insisted, “after you.”
I hesitated, then opened the door.
The smell hit me like a ton of bricks, and my eyes teared at the smell of old books and a whiff of my father's cologne.
I kept the door closed for a good reason—I wanted to preserve the aroma of the room for as long as possible.
"Your father was a good man, but…” Benson paused, hesitating by the rustic, wooden fireplace to stare at me sternly, “He always did what was best for the family. Or so he thought. But sometimes he was mysterious. He would disappear at odd times… Other strange things. You might find something here that can help you with your situation.”
Again, the feeling that there was something beneath the surface, just as Rook had warned me, filled me with dread. I didn’t want to face whatever it was. “There’s nothing here.”
Reaching forward, Benson tapped under the fireplace. Then, hobbling to the bookshelf, he pulled it open.
I blinked, frozen. My dad had a secret room in his office? “How did I never know about this?"
"He was very careful to keep it from you."
I stepped towards it, and a strong smell of dad’s cologne hit my nose. I wanted to cry. "What's in there?"
He shook his head. "I don't know."
I glanced at him, surprised.
"That was your father's private office. If he wanted to keep it secret, it was none of my business. But,” he cautioned, “I need you to promise me that you’ll be careful.”
