Wednesday, June 24, 2020

If Walls Could Talk.

  

It was a long day at work. All I could think of was going home. And just as suddenly as my thought about going home came, the phone rang.

 

"Clarke, you have a call on line 4." My secretary said from the reception room.

"Thank you, Stacey, go ahead and hang up, I got it from here." I called out.

 

I pick up my office phone.

 




"Hello," I said.

"Ms. Owens?" A voice asked.

"This is her speaking," I responded, "May I ask who is calling?"

"This is Mr. Donaldson from your mother's estate" He said with a huff.

"Is everything alright?" I asked as it seemed he was rushed.

"Could you stop by my office to discuss the estate?" He asked me.

 

I knew this day would come, just didn't think it would be three days after the funeral.



 

"Sure," I start, "when?"

"Today, lunch time. I will fax the address to my office." He responded.

"Okay, gre-" He hung up.

 

I start to hear the fax machine do that God awful 'brrrrreeeee' noise.

 

Stacey comes to the door with the address.

 

"Thanks, Stace" I say.

"No problem," She starts, "are you heading out?"

"Taking an early lunch, have to figure mom's estate out." I say with a sigh.

"Take your time." Stacey says with a smile as she heads back to her desk.

 

I gather up my things and pack them all into my bag. As I head to the door, I pass the wall mirror and realized that my hair is a mess.

 


"Good Lord" I whisper to myself.

"Hey, Stacey," I say. "Please forward all calls to my cell phone please."

"Not an issue, drive safe!" Stacey replies.

 

The drive to Mr. Donaldson's office was a short and boring drive. The sun outside does not seem to help the gloomy mood that has fallen over me.

 

Donaldson's office is in a very nice building, which I remember was a huge deal when it was being built. A lot of negative backlash.

 


As I walk inside Mr. Donaldson was waiting for me by the door. He is very tall. Very attractive, and very tired looking. This poor man. Probably my mom's fault to be honest.

 "Welcome Ms. Owens" He said with a small tired smile.

"Clarke is fine, please." I say with my own small tired smile.

"Please, follow me."

 We head to an elevator, and as we are in the small 6 ft by 6 ft metal moving box, he tried his hardest to keep up with small talk. The floor bell finally dings, and now we have officially hit the 27th floor.

He motions for me to take a seat in front of his glass and metal desk.



"I won't keep you long Ms. Ow-" he stopped himself. "Clarke,"I smile back at him.

"Let's get started, shall we?" I ask.

 He goes over the logistics and everything that I need to decide upon. I just felt it was best to just donate everything to charity. What do I need all these things for?

 "Now for the last thing on the list." He says.

"Oh boy, best for last, right?" I say jokingly.

"Right." He says with a more lit up smile than before. "Your mother's home."

Oh, I forgot about Owen's Manor...

"What about it?" I asked. "Give it away."

"Well, we can't." He retorts.

"Why not?" I ask.



"Your mother expressed that this home be handed over to you, and only you." He says.

"Okay, well what am I going to do with a whole house I have not been in, in 13 years?" I asked.

"Move back in." He says with a joking tone.

"Not happening." I respond sounding more annoyed than I intended.

"Sell it." He offered back.

"Put it up for sale then." I say as I stand to leave.

 

On the drive back to my office, I think about everything that had just happened. Why did she want me to take it? Why was she adamant about it?

I hit a U-turn and head back to Mr. Donaldson's office.

I get into the elevator, hit his floor number, and then burst into his office.



"I'll move in!" I shout almost knocking him out of his chair from fear. "Don't sell it, I'll move in."

If Walls Could Talk.

   It was a long day at work. All I could think of was going home. And just as suddenly as my thought about going home came, the phone ran...