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She was Grandpa’s only heir, being the last living person of her family. Including me, of course, but we had no reason to believe he’d leave me anything.
After all, I was an only child, and I was there when my parents had drafted their wills.
I wanted to get into the lawyer’s office and right back out again. I had an inkling that my mother needed a stiff drink and a good night’s sleep, something she’d been lacking since Grandpa died.
Well, the sleep.
There’d been a few stiff drinks.
On all our parts.
I stared out of the window as Dad drove through Fox Point. This was the first time I’d been back in ten years, and I was surprised by how similar it was to all those years ago.
The little greengrocer on the high street still had the same green and white awning over the windows, covering the few crates of fruit and veg that sat outside the door to tempt people in. The café a few doors down had updated their logo, but the same pink and white tables and chairs sat on the cracked pavement with the paint flaking away to reveal old layers beneath it. The florist on the other side of the street had seemingly updated their door and window frames to a fetching shade of sunflower yellow, and a couple of other stores had clearly changed ownership, but that was it.
It was like being in a time warp.
Everything had changed, except Fox Point.
Dad turned off the high street and made an almost immediate left at the optician as rain fell from the sky. Tiny little droplets brushed against the car window, and I watched as they ran down the glass in a higgledy-piggledy manner until the car stopped.
Ah.
We were here.
I got out of the car and went to get a parking ticket from the machine while Dad helped Mum. The building on the other side of the road from the carpark was just like all the others—two to three stories tall with hints of Victorian architecture, grand windows, and a big double door. Next to the door was a plaque with the name of Grandpa’s lawyer and all the little letter combinations that said how amazing he was, and a little doorbell with an intercom.
I pressed the button on the doorbell.
Was that really necessary for a lawyer? Especially one who shared a wall with asandwichshop?
“Hello?” came a female voice.
“Um, yes, hello, it’s the O’Neil family to see Mr. Porter?” Wait, was that even the lawyer’s name?
Porter? Portland? Just plain old Port?
Ah, crap.
“Oh, of course. Please pull the door and come on in.”
Phew.
There was a horrid buzzing noise, and I pushed on the door, only for it to not budge at all.
“The other door,” Dad said.
Right.
Of course.
She couldn’t have specified which on the little fancy intercom, could she?
I pushed the other door, and nothing happened.
“Pull it, Lottie,” Dad said with a sigh. “She said to pull it.”
“Oh.” I grumbled, giving it a tug. It finally opened, and I let out a little, “Ah!” then held the door so Dad could help Mum inside. It was clear to see that she was going through the motions, and I wondered if she even knew where we were.
