My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
“You are squeaking,” Margaret said as I approached.
“It is just the rubber soles,” I said, reaching down to pull the thick gray wool back over her shoulders.
“Cheap shoes,” she said, her eyes fixed on my feet. “Your mother always bought cheap shoes too. Thought she was saving pennies while she ruined her arches.”
I twisted the plain silver band on my finger, keeping my voice level. “They are comfortable for walking.”
“You did not come here to walk,” Margaret said. “You came here to work.”
“I wanted to ask you about the photos in the library,” I said, clearing my throat. “The ones of the old store in Oakhaven. Did you sell the property when you retired?”
Margaret’s cane came down hard against the floorboards, a single sharp crack that echoed in the high ceiling.
“The past is a closed book, Emily,” she said, her voice clipped and cold. “I do not discuss business with children.”
“I am twenty-eight,” I said.
“Then start acting like you have some sense,” she said, turning her head away toward the front door.
