Page 14 of Never Been Gargoyled
“People forge birth certificates?”
He shrugged. “When money’s involved, people will do anything.”
Very true.
The letter rustled as I stared at it, before looking back up at him. “You’re really a lawyer?”
“Yes. I’m offering to represent you if you want me to.”
“Why?”
“Because you own the estate.”
I lifted the paper, rattling it in the air. “According to this, I don’t.”
“If I represent you, I’ll look into this. Handle any correspondence. Work with you to make an offer to buy her out if she is, in fact, Helga’s true daughter.”
“I don’t have a lot of money.” And that sucked. I mean, I had enough to make sure the house didn’t crumble around me and purchase tools and what I’d need to restore the grounds, but pay someone off? Nope.
“We’ll worry about that if it comes to it.”
My brain scrambled for a response. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a snarky comment about gargoyle night school tried to form, but it couldn’t quite fight its way through. I was holding an envelope that might cost me everything, and he was offering to stand between me and the storm. It was hard to joke in a situation like that.
“Okay,” I said. “Yes. Please represent me.” My voice came out limp, but I’d been wrung out and left to dry. “I appreciate it. I don’t know what to do. Who to turn to.” Would my dad have offered to help? He wasn’t a lawyer, but he was savvy enough in his own way.
Probably or perhaps not. He’d offer sympathy, but he was irritated Helga hadn’t left the estate to him, though he would’ve promptly sold it. Helga gave it to me because she thought I’d love it as much as she had. Why hadn’t she mentioned she had a daughter who might insist the property was hers?
“I’m here to help you,” Feydin said. “What you can do now is trust me. Leave this to me. Let me make this easier for you.” He gave me a curt nod. “I’ll return shortly.” He strode from the parlor and the front door thudded shut not long after.
I looked down at the letter again and reread the first paragraph.
Then the second.
Then the whole thing, one line at a time, trying to make it mean something else. But no matter how many times I skimmed, the words stayed the same.
Intent to obtain a temporary injunction on property modification…
DNA verification pending …
My stomach churned. I’d spent the morning cleaning. Planning. Dreaming. Now those dreams were shot. I’d just gotten used to the idea ofmaybecalling this place home.
And a stranger was trying to yank it out from underneath me.
My eyes burned.
I stared at a bookshelf and an old glass vase in deep pink that had belonged to Helga. Not the most attractive thing, but she must’ve loved it.
Had she really had a child and never told anyone?
All the time she’d shared about traveling alone, her love of solitude, and having no true family but me may have just been stories.
I felt like a fraud, like I’d walked into someone else’s life and started rearranging the furniture.
The silence in the room felt heavier without Feydin. The building creaked and sighed like me. None of this made sense anymore.
I stared at the letter again. And then gazed around the parlor, taking in the mismatched cushions, the brass lamp that had to be an antique, the blanket still folded and laid across the back of a chair as if my aunt was planning to sit and cover her lap with it at any moment.
It had all been hers, and I’d started to treasure each piece already. They’d been a bridge to the woman I’d loved who’d died of a horrible disease.
