My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
“Then you may go,” Margaret said.
I watched Margaret lock the small desk drawer.
The next morning, the key was no longer in the lock, and the hallway upstairs was completely silent.
I carried a stack of folded yellow bath towels up the back stairs at eleven o’clock, the scent of lavender soap rising from the warm fabric.
Linda was standing by the telephone table at the end of the long hallway, her back to me.
“The filing deadline is the main concern,” Linda whispered into the receiver, her voice tighter than usual.
I stopped on the third step from the top, holding the heavy laundry against my chest to keep the basket from scraping the wall.
“He told me, ‘She must never know, Linda.’ I am keeping my word,” she said, her tone dropping even lower.
“But the transfer papers for the Oakhaven properties must be signed by Friday.”
I cleared my throat, the sound rustling in the narrow stairwell like dry leaves.
Linda spun around, her face instantly blank as she set the black receiver back onto its cradle with a sharp, heavy click.
