My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
My hand was cold when I took the paper from him. The envelope was thick, containing something solid and heavy that shifted against the bottom crease with a dull, metallic thud.
“What is inside?” I asked, looking him in the eye.
“My obligations in this specific matter are complete once the delivery is made,” Mr. Bennett said, stepping back toward the concrete stairs. “The rest is entirely up to you.”
“Does Linda know about this?” I asked, my thumb tracing the hard edges of the object inside.
“Linda has her own duties to perform today,” Mr. Bennett said, his boots already creaking on the first wooden step. “I suggest you open it before the afternoon.”
I watched him descend the stairwell until the heavy outer door of the building clicked shut, leaving me alone in the dim hallway.
I went back to the kitchen and sat down in the yellow vinyl chair. The envelope lay on the laminate table, cast in the gray light coming through the small window that overlooked the alley.