Page 39 of Mourner for Hire
“Handled,” he adds with a nod.
“I still can’t believe he said I’m a pot stirrer.” Annabelle continues her pity party in the spirit realm, and I ignore her.
“By the way he tore out of the parking lot, he doesn’t necessarily seem handled, but rather furious.”
“Don’t worry about him. He is not a violent kid. He’s just hurting, and his mother pulled a fast one on him,” Sully answers.
“I see that.” I give Annabelle a side-long glance, and her cheeks are red with fury.
“Like I said: pot stirrer,” he adds, to which Annabelle shouts, “I am not!”
And I muse with a smirk that thankfully fits his statement as well as dear, sweet, manipulative Annabelle’s outburst. “Ahh, well, hopefully, my time at the cottage will go quickly, and I’ll be in and out of this town before I’m the one to cause a stir.”
“Oh, honey, you already have.”
My smirk morphs into a wince. “It is rather unfortunate, isn’t it?”
He hums in agreement, shifting the pages of the will in front of him. “Anyhoo, I want you to know Dominic won’t be bugging you, and if he does, you be sure to call me on my personal cell.”
He slides a gold-inscribed, cream-colored business card over to me with a thick index finger. I take it and slip it into my bag.
“Thank you,” I say softly, twisting my lips with my thoughts. I clear my throat before gathering the courage to ask, “And why is it that you’re certain Dominic won’t have an issue with me?”
He barks out a laugh. “Oh, he’ll always have an issue with you, but it won’t interfere with all the things you need to do for Mrs. Dunne.”
My brow furrows, the question implied in the etch marks on my forehead.
He leans back, pulling a page from the will and rotating it so it’s right side up for me and tapping his knuckles against it twice. I lean forward. Annabelle does, too, and lets out a righteous giggle. I shoot her a sharp glare before reading the text on the page.
Contest
If any beneficiary or would-be beneficiary under this Will shall in any manner contest or attack this Will or any of its provision, then in such event I hereby give, devise and bequeath such contestant the sum of One Dollar ($1.00) only and specially revoke all other provisions hereof in favor of such contestant. Therein all provisions revoked by the contestant will be split evenly among the other beneficiary.
My breath stays caught in my throat.
“You tricked him!” I gasp, and Annabelle laughs.
“Well, Ms. Dunne insisted?—”
I clench my jaw and glare at her to my right. For Sully, I’m in a staredown with his bookshelf, but Annabelle receives the glare with a triumphant smile.
I sigh and return my gaze to Sully. “You know, Annabelle never told me exactly why she wanted me to do this…”
“Really? She told me she told you about knowing your mother. God rest her soul.”
I swallow hard. “My mother died when I was very young. That’s hardly reason to link us to each other beyond a lifetime.”
“Well, maybe she just really wanted your renovations on the cottage.”
“Maybe. But that’s rather extensive, isn’t it?”
“I thought it was a part of your job.”
“Attending funerals is my job. I complete the tasks. No questions asked. But I’ll admit this is the most extensive request I’ve ever had?—”
“And the most money,” Annabelle fits in.
“And the most money,” I repeat because, in truth, the money is the driving factor. That is, until she decided to haunt me.
