Am I still dreaming? Things are getting weirder and weirder by the second. James props his briefcase up on the iron railing of my stoop and pulls out a piece of paper.
“This is an itemized list of everything she left for you.”
I reach for the paper and James flinches, as if he’s afraid of my fingers touching his. I glance down at the list, which isn’t anything official. I know because I can understand it. Legal jargon is lost on me. Aunt Estelle left me her house, the thirty acres it was on, an extensive antique collection and—“Holy shit,” I exclaim when I see the crazy amount of money. I had no idea Aunt Estelle was loaded.
“She wanted to make things as simple as possible for you,” James goes on. “I have a few papers you need to sign. The transfer of the titles will have to take place at a title company of course.”
“Of course,” I echo, still staring at the string of zeros at the end of the sum of money that’s supposedly mine now.
“And you’ll have to handle some of the official paperwork at the bank. I can set up appointments for you. It was also your aunt’s wish to have everything settled as fast as possible. She even had the house recently updated and remodeled.”
I blink and see the porch of the Victorian house in the background of the photo Harrison showed me. That house is mine now? I have to still be dreaming.
“If you’d like, I could go over everything in slight detail,” he offers. “As well as get the paperwork started so I can send it over to the appropriate parties.”
“Uh, sure.” I step back, still holding onto Hunter. He sniffs at James curiously, but stays calm. Hunter is a friendly dog, luckily since he’s massive. He’ll fight to the death to protect me, but overall, he likes people and getting attention from anyone who’ll give it to him.
“I bet you’re just like your aunt,” James says as he follows me into the kitchen.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Right.” He laughs nervously. “Of course.”
I brush salt off the table, left from Harrison’s French fries last night. “Do you want coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
I nod again and let go of Hunter, plugging in my coffee pot. I need coffee. James is setting papers out on the table when I join him.
“I’m sorry,” I start, looking at a bank statement. “How did my aunt come into all this money?”
“Your aunt was very good at investment and playing the stock market.” I don’t know what playing the stock market means, so I just nod again. He slides another paper in front of me. “Here are her, uh, predictions, for you. It tells you when and what stocks to buy, as well as when to sell.”
The list is written in Aunt Estelle’s tiny handwriting and is pretty straight forward, with her “predictions” going for the next twenty years. I’m busy looking at the paper when James slides another over, snatching his hand back.
“This is from her,” he tells me, and I pick up the envelope. My name is written in the center in tiny cursive that I recognize at once. I grab it and flip it over. It’s closed with a wax seal, and the same triple moon symbol is pressed into the wax. I use my nail to break the seal. Carefully, I unfold the letter.
My dearest Anora,
I’m dead, which you already know by now. Well, assuming James has done his job. He’s a bit of a coward, but you can trust him. He will assist you with all of the legal doings that neither you nor I know anything about.
Now, if you are reading this particular letter, it means I never got the chance to explain things to you. Don’t be angry at me, my dear. I did what I thought was best to save you from a world of heartache. I may be dead, but in time I will tell you everything.
I am very proud of the young woman you have become.
Much love,
Estelle
What the hell? I bite my lip and move my eyes to the top of the letter, needing to read it again. Before I can, James has more papers to carefully push in front of me.
“Your aunt lived in an assisted living facility for the last three years, so the house has sat empty.” He gives me another paper. “Per her wishes, an inspection was done just a week before her death. Everything is up to code now.”
“The house is old, right?”
“Yes. It was built in 1903.”
A few seconds of silence tick by. “When is her funeral?”
“It was your aunt’s wishes not to have one. Her body was cremated immediately after she died.”
“Oh.” I look at the papers again, not able to concentrate to read anything. “Does my mom know?”