Bequeathed

Chapter Six: Moving In

William sets the cats down in the foyer, turns slowly, taking in the house.

“Don’t drool,” Claire says, removing the sunglasses from her face. “You won’t be here long enough to mop it up. And cleaning up after you is not a part of our arrangement. Speaking of which…” Claire steps forward, cranes her neck upwards to the second floor. “Where is Bertha?”

“Retired,” Mr. Simms says. “Your aunt saw it to it that she was taken care of.”

“You said I was the only one listed in he will,” Claire contests.

“Bertha wasn’t listed in the will,” Mr. Simms steps forward as well. His lean figure is taller and therefore more commanding than Claire's, so it steals some of Claire’s personal space. “Bertha received and…uhm…somewhat of a retirement package a few years ago. She stayed on to help your aunt but she really had enough to part ways with her years ago.”

“Aunt Bev?” Claire scoffs. “My Aunt Bev? She didn’t believe in taking care of anyone. Bertha must have drugged her. Or lied. Or stole the money. Aunt Bev didn't believe in parting with her money.”

“She had a became rather detached from her money towards the end,” says Mr. Simms.

“I wasn't aware.” Claire walks over to the staircase and slides her fingers across the smooth finish. “Still, I’m surprised. She and Bertha never got along. I had always wondered why Aunt Bev never got rid of Bertha.”

“For the same reasons Bertha stayed,” Mr. Simms says. “In the end, Bertha was all she had…besides the cats”

Claire faces Mr. Simma, eyes narrowed. “I’ll take it from here.” She sticks her hand out for the keys. “I do know how to get around.”

Mr. Simms drops the keys in her palm. “I'll be expecting a copy of the license.” He walks out, leaving the door open behind him.

Claire mounts the steps slowly, counting each one, reacquainting her feet with the slick, grey-white marble floors. “I’ll need a new Bertha,” she says to herself. William climbs the steps behind her. “Leave the cats there. I’ll bring them to the shelter near my ap…my old apartment.” Glee warms her belly and travels to her cheeks. It feels so good to say her old apartment. She will move her things out asap. It doesn’t matter that she has another week on her rent or that she still has six months left on her lease. She has money now. “Money solves everything.”

“Don’t you want to keep them?” William catches up to her.

“Not particularly.”

“But your aunt…she would have wanted you to keep them.”

“The will doesn’t demand I keep them. I don’t need to keep them.” Claire points to her right. “My room is over there.”

William smiles.

“Yours…” Claire turns, points to the left. “...Is on that side. The guest room…any of the other rooms. As long as you’re over there and I’m over here.” Claire points again to both ends of the house for emphasis. She leaves William at the top of the staircase with the cats.

She pulls the door open, races to the bed, dives in. Twice the size of her old king-sized bed; clean, soft, ironed white linen. Bertha must not have been gone long.. Claire buries her face in the sheets. Vanilla…lilac. Aunt Bev. Her eyes burn; she squeezes them tight, trapping the tears. Aunt Bev made her decision. She chose to cut Claire off. She turned her back on Claire, knowing she was all Claire had. “No time to reminisce. I’ll enjoy my inheritance.”