My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
Margaret was sitting at her small mahogany writing desk, a yellow jeweler’s cloth in her hand. She was polishing a silver pocket watch, her thumb rubbing the engraved initials on the back cover with a strange, intense focus.
As soon as the door creaked, she snapped the watch shut with a metallic click.
“You are late,” she said, quickly sliding the watch into the top drawer of the desk.
“The kitchen clock says exactly ten,” I said, setting the water glass on her nightstand.
“The kitchen clock is three minutes slow,” Margaret said, her hand resting on the brass key left in the drawer lock. “I have told Linda twice to adjust it.”
She turned the key, the small lock giving a dry, scraping click that sounded final in the quiet room.
“Do not touch things that do not concern you,” Margaret said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
I stood by the bed, my eyes still fixed on her hand as she withdrew the key and slipped it into her pocket.
“I only brought your water,” I said.
