My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
“You must ensure she is kept comfortable and quiet during this transition.”
“What transition?” I asked, stepping closer to him.
Mr. Bennett cleared his throat and glanced at the pharmacy clock on the wall.
“I have a meeting at four thirty,” he said, backing away toward the automatic doors.
“Give my regards to Margaret.”
He walked out into the gray afternoon, his coat collar turned up against the damp air.
I paid the clerk twelve dollars and walked back to my old sedan, my mind spinning with his words.
When I returned to Oakhaven, the house was dark except for the single light shining from the second-floor window.
I let myself in through the heavy front door, the smell of lemon wax and old paper wrapping around me like a trap.
I walked up the stairs, my wet shoes making no sound on the thick wool carpet of the landing.
The study door was closed, but the keyhole was dark, meaning Margaret had already gone to her bedroom.
I stood in the hallway, looking at the heavy brass knob of the study door.
