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“Good morning, my pretties,” I cooed, reaching for the small watering can I kept on the window ledge. Carefully pouring a small amount of water over the soil in each pot, I rotated the plants, moving the lavender to the window ledge and the African Violet down a shelf, making sure it was out of the direct sunlight. “I hope you all had a nice evening.” Running my fingers over the soft fuzz on the leaves of the violet, I smiled, feeling my soul lighten with just the smallest amount of connection to the earth.
Turning to the far corner of the room, I took my watering can and approached the larger pot I kept in the far corner, away from the harsh rays of the direct sunlight that managed to find their way into my room.
“And you,” I said, looking down at my pride and joy. The one plant that was the most exceptional—the one that I should never have even started growing—but it was also what made it the most precious to me.
Belladonna.
“You’re looking fantastic today.” Extending my hand, I reached out and cupped one of the dark purple blossoms, its bell-shaped bloom hanging heavy in my palm. Nestled in between the leaves and flowers was the latest crop of fruit, the shiny black berries looked almost ready to burst.
“Lovely crop this year,” I murmured, gently pinching one of the berries between my fingers, rolling it around just enough to make the flesh strain, but not enough to pop it. “You’ve come so far,” I said, remembering how small and fragile it had been when I’d first gotten it. A small smile crept across my face.“We’vecome so far.” Standing tall, I grinned down at my stunning Belladonna plant, and added, “And we’re not done yet.”
Making my way to the kitchen, I was surprised to see my roommate already seated at the counter, scowling into a cup of coffee and sorting the mail I’d left there last night.
“You’re up early,” I teased, laughing when all I got was a grunt in return. Morning person, she was not.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” Violet grumbled, draining the last of her mug and standing to put it in the sink. “There’s some sort of construction going on downstairs. Some jackass was up first thing, hammering and sawing away like we’re all sunshine masochists.”
That was her favorite phrase this time of day; she used it often.
“I thought the shops downstairs were all empty?” I asked, ignoring her attitude and adding a little milk to my own coffee. Our street was one of those classic New York designs, all the brick buildings housing too-small apartments built over a variety of stores and shops and storefronts. With no real pattern to the coloring of the brick, it gave the neighborhood a kitschy feel, which I adored.
“Well, they have all been empty for a while,” Violet agreed, turning back to the mail. “But I guess at least one of them won’t be empty for long.”
Taking a sip of my coffee, I sat at the small kitchen island beside her, aimlessly flipping through some random catalog that had been delivered to us for no discernible reason, when, out of nowhere, Violet let out a shocked gasp.
“Holy smokes,” she breathed, staring down at the letter in her hand.
“What is it?”
“My great aunt Edith died.”
“You have a great aunt Edith?”
“I mean, I guess Idid.” Frowning down at the letter, Violet scanned the text quickly while I picked up the envelope it had come from. “According to this, she died a few weeks ago. It says she left me something in her will.”
“Well,” I offered her the envelope. “The place that sent it is a law office in Manhattan.” Violet picked up her phone and searched for the name that had been embossed on the fancy cream-colored stationary.
“Looks legit, too,” she mused, still holding the letter in one hand, her phone in the other.
“And you really don’t remember this Edith at all?”
“I think I might.” Scratching her head in thought, Violet scrunched up her face. “When I was little—like, maybe five or so—my mom and I spent a few nights in the city with a relative of hers. Someone she was trying to hit up for money. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but when the lady wouldn’t give my mom what she wanted, we took off.” Looking at me, Violet shrugged. “We never saw her again. At least, not that I remember.”
“And now this lady just wants to give you something from her will? Someone she only met for a few days twenty years ago? What did she leave you?”
“It doesn’t say.” Violet flipped the letter one more time, then shot off the stool. “It says the reading of the will is today! Like, in just over an hour.”
“Oh, crap!”
“Ricki, we really need to get the mail more often.”
“Don’t lecture me! Go get dressed. You can’t show up at a swanky Manhattan lawyer’s office in your pajamas.”
“You think I should go? I didn’t even know the lady.”
“Well, she knew you. Well enough to remember you when she was making her final arrangements. I say you at least owe her the courtesy of showing up and hearing what she had to say.”
“Alright. I’ll go.” Glancing at her phone again, Violet grimaced. “Shit. I’ll never make it. The subway takes at least ninety minutes this time of day.”
