My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
“I can handle the bill,” I said, turning back to the sink.
“You say that now,” Linda whispered, her hand moving to smooth her apron again. “But you do not know the price of the things she keeps locked in that desk.”
“Is it about the money?” I asked, my heart pausing for a second. “The legal papers you were talking about on the phone?”
Linda did not reply, her silence settling over the warm kitchen like a heavy blanket. I picked up the sponge, the soapy water warm against my hands, and smiled as I washed the teacups.
The dining room table was set for three the next evening at six o’clock.
It was the first time since my arrival in Oakhaven that my grandmother had eaten a meal outside her bedroom, and the space felt different with the heavy velvet drapes pulled shut against the October twilight.
Linda carried in a silver tureen of vegetable broth, her thumbs pressed tightly against the white porcelain rim of the underplate.
