Page 3 of The Secret Heir Next Door

“Sounds like a lovely man.”

“The loveliest,”I reply drily. “I’ve never seen him before and hope to never see him again. Seriously, I’m pretty certain my MacBook is trashed.”

“It’s been trashed,” she teases. “It’s time for a new one.”

“I can’t afford a new one.”

“It’s a tax write-off with the store, silly.”

“You have to have the extra cash for that to happen, and I don’t have it. I’m to the max with everything.”

“I thought online sales were good.”

“They are, but I’m climbing out of debt, remember?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “It’ll get better. Maybe we can work on some marketing stuff tomorrow.”

“I can’t pay you.”

“I didn’t ask you to. You’re my best friend. Your success is my success.”

“Thanks, Lila. Listen, I have to open the store. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Go be great,”she says in a singsong voice before hanging up.

I wish I had her optimism.

I’m standingon a step stool, carefully placing jars of assorted candies on the top shelf, when I hear the familiar bell jingle above the door. I glance over my shoulder and see Dan, my mailman, walking in with his usual stack of mail.

“Morning, Serena!” he calls out cheerfully, balancing the stack of letters and small packages in one hand.

“Morning, Dan,” I smile, stepping down from the stool. “What’s in the mailbag today? Anything good?”

Dan chuckles as he hands me the stack. “Bills, bills, and more bills, I’m afraid. But hey, maybe there’s a surprise in there somewhere.”

I take the pile from him and start flipping through it. Bills, indeed. I let out a small sigh.

“Thanks, Dan. You always know how to brighten my day.”

He grins. “Just doing my job. You know, I heard someone raving about your fudge this morning.”

“Is that so? I tried out a new recipe. It seems to be getting great reviews.”

“She was telling everyone about it. She also said how nice you were.”

“That’s definitely what I needed to hear today. Thanks!”

“You take care now, Serena. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Dan! Be safe!” I wave as he exits the shop, the bell jingling again.

I set the stack of mail on the counter and continue stocking the shelves, my mind half on the task and half on the stack of envelopes waiting for me. Once finished with stocking and customers, I hop off the stool to sort through the mail properly.

As I go through the usual suspects—electricity bill, water bill, various advertisements—one envelope stands out. It’s from a law firm, addressed to me in a formal, almost intimidating font. My heart skips a beat.

What could this be about?

I tear openthe envelope and unfold the letter inside. As I read, my stomach sinks. The letter is from the new owner of the building, informing me of my failure to comply with the amendments of my lease.

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