Second Chance

A lawyer told

The chair felt unusually cushy, the birds were singing together in a lovely tune, and everything around me seemed to glow just a bit brighter.

“You still haven’t explained anything to me, ma’am,” Jack said, crossing his arms tightly. I turned to see him with an expression of irritation, clearly wanting some answers.

“You can’t expect to know everything, you need to figure some things out on your own,” I replied gently, my eyes drifting to a teardrop that had found its way to my left hand.

I checked the clock and sighed; it was already 4 PM, and I had lingered here long enough. As I tried to tie my shoelaces, the door creaked open. A guy in a casual red shirt and jeans peeked in, scanning the room. He stepped inside, found an empty table, and sank into a chair, taking a deep breath. I couldn’t help but move a little closer; that slicked-back hairstyle looked oddly familiar.

“Mr. Derson?!” I gasped, finally getting a clear look at his face. It was the lawyer for the Miller family. “Mrs. Miller?!” he echoed, springing up from his chair, clearly taken aback.

He quickly sat back down, avoiding my eyes. “I’m really sorry for not coming by sooner to express my condolences; life’s been quite hectic,” he admitted, fidgeting with his fingers. Mr. Derson was typically quite reserved in social settings—except when he was in a courtroom scenario.

I nudged the chair beside him a bit closer so I could settle in since I knew Angelina wasn’t waking up anytime soon. “Mind if I sit?” I asked, and he gave a quick nod. I took a seat, placing my purse on the table. “Sorry to interrupt your peace.”

He shook his head, “Not at all. Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to share with you,” he said, finally making eye contact. Just then, Jack joined us at the table, plopping down in the third chair. “What kind of shift is this? One moment you’re hugging me, and the next, you’re deep in conversation with a random guy!”

Mr. Derson glanced at Jack, clearly puzzled, before turning his gaze to me with the same expression. I let out a sigh and pleaded with Jack for a moment of privacy. He shot me an 'I’m keeping an eye on you' look before making his way to the counter.

“I can’t believe you’re here, Sir! What brings you by?” I asked as I crossed my legs. He set his phone down on the table and idly toyed with it. “I’m really sorry I didn’t handle this sooner. Can you give me your account details so I can express my condolences?”

I blinked in surprise as I tried to process what he was saying, looking at his expectant face and the phone in his hand. Suddenly, I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach and propping my feet on the chair where Jack had just been sitting.

“W-You don’t have to do anything!” I managed to say, still trying to catch my breath from the unexpected giggles. He shook his head firmly. “No, I insist—” I leaned in and gently placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

"I don't want you to insist, Mr. Derson. I don't want any sort of condolences", I said settling back on my seat, "Also sorry for cutting you off like that". He stared at me in shock for a while before comporting himself, continuing "If you say so, Mrs Millers. I do have something important to tell you concerning Mr. Oscar's property share".

“Ugh,” I groaned, slapping my forehead. It was like Oscar’s issues had a way of resurfacing, just like that pesky cockroach in Angelina’s basement. “So, what’s going on?” I finally blurted out.

“As his spouse, you’re entitled to one-third of his shares, whether he specifically willed them to you or not. It’s a law designed to protect spouses in situations like yours,” he explained.

His words struck me like a needle found in a haystack—sharp and full of promise. “A-Are you really sure about this, sir? Like, how does it work? What do I need to do?”

“Please take a deep breath, Mrs. Millers,” he said, concern in his voice as he handed me a glass of water. I quickly drank it down and set the glass aside. “Could you please repeat what you just said?” My eyes lit up with newfound hope.

“You’re entitled to one-third of his property. You’ll need to go to court, but don’t worry—it’s a straightforward process, and you’re bound to win the share you rightfully deserve,” he elaborated. I took in deep breaths as my mind raced to absorb everything he had just told me.

“Wait, so I actually can take something from his property?” I asked, making sure I wasn’t just imagining things again. Mr. Derson leaned back in his chair and nodded. “Come by my office tomorrow, and I’ll give you all the details.”

I stretched my arms behind my head, pondering Oscar’s riches and how much of a slice one-third of it would actually be. For the first time, I found myself appreciating the two things I usually liked the least: Oscar and Math.

Just then, a server approached our table with a steaming cup of coffee, and I couldn’t help but wonder when Mr. Derson had ordered it since we’d been engrossed in conversation the whole time he’d been in the café.

The waiter set the coffee down in front of Mr. Derson, only for him to clarify that it wasn’t his order. The waiter apologized and, in his flustered attempt to retrieve it, accidentally spilled a little on Mr. Derson’s pants.

I jumped up and asked if he needed a wet towel. Luckily, one was brought over, and Mr. Derson headed to the bathroom to clean up.

“Do you need me to come help?” I asked as he started to walk away. He waved his hand in a ‘No’ gesture and picked up his pace. I settled back into my chair, trying to get comfy again.

Then I felt someone’s gaze on me—it was creepy enough to make me turn around. There stood Jack, arms crossed like a stern dad waiting for an explanation about why I was late coming home after curfew. “What do you want?” I asked, feeling a bit defensive.

“You know exactly what I want,” he replied, his expression unchanged. I muttered something under my breath, then looked back at him. “It’s not something I can explain quickly. Let’s chat later.”

He clenched his fists, then suddenly grabbed my hand, slipping a folded white paper into it. “That has my number on it. Even if you don’t call, I’ll find a way to track you down,” he said, trying to sound mysterious.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Sounds tempting, I might think about it. Just so you know, that hug was a bit emotional—that’s all I’ll say for now.” The serious look on his face immediately shifted to a smirk. “What kind of emotions?”

I sighed and turned my back to him, thinking, "Believe what you want." He sauntered off with an ever-widening smirk, likely conjuring up some not-so-nice ideas in his head.

Just then, Mr. Derson came back from the restroom and settled into his chair. A waitress approached him with a complimentary cappuccino, apologizing for the earlier mishap. He paused for a moment to enjoy the rich aroma before shifting his gaze to me.

“There's one more thing, a way for you to claim all of Oscar’s assets,” he said quietly. I leaned in closer, my curiosity piqued.

“What do you mean?” I asked, unsure if he was joking—though he didn’t strike me as the type to joke around.

He took a sip of his cappuccino before setting it back down. “According to your husband, if you marry Louis Lidgleton, you can have everything.”