My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
“That does not belong to you,” Linda said from the doorway.
I jumped, nearly dropping the heavy ledger. Linda walked across the Persian rug with quick, silent steps and snatched the binder from my hands.
“I was just looking for a book,” I said, my throat dry.
Linda smoothed her apron, her face completely blank as she tucked the ledger under her arm. “This room is for reading, not for auditing.”
“Those figures were from this year,” I said. “I thought she retired after the stores closed.”
“Margaret’s affairs are complicated,” Linda said, her slow voice carrying a sudden edge. “You would do well to remember why you are here.”
“Is she still running the business?” I asked.
Linda did not answer. She turned and left the room, leaving the door wide open behind her.
I stood in the center of the library, the smell of old paper and lemon wax suddenly feeling very cold.
The light under Margaret’s bedroom door was still shining at ten o’clock.
I knocked twice, then pushed the door open to bring her evening glass of water.
