My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
“I am,” I said, clearing my throat before I spoke.
I took a step into the room and reached out to shake his hand, noticing the silver band on my finger spinning slightly as I gripped his palm.
“Mr. Bennett said you would be arriving this morning, but I wanted to make sure we had the desk cleared off for you,” Gary said, gesturing to the heavy maple desk that occupied the center of the office.
“Thank you, Gary,” I said, setting my leather satchel down on the corner of the polished wood. “I do not want to disrupt your morning routine.”
“Your grandmother always sat here on Mondays,” he said, taking a step back toward the filing cabinets. “She said if you did not look at the inventory sheets before the trucks arrived, you were already behind for the week.”
I sat down in the high-backed leather chair, which groaned slightly under my weight, the leather worn soft by decades of use.
The desktop was empty except for a green blotter, a brass pen tray, and a thick black binder containing the store’s quarterly performance reports.
