“And I’m supposed to remember you?” I said.
“Well, certainly! We have excellent memories, we Smedrys. Now, about that box…”
Grandfather? The man had to be lying, of course. I don’t even have parents. Why would I have a grandfather?
Now, looking back, I realize that this was a silly thought. Everybody has a grandfather – two of them, actually. Just because you haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. In that way, grandfathers are kind of like kangaroos.
At any rate, I most certainly should have called the police on this elderly intruder. He has been the main source of all my problems ever since. Unfortunately, I didn’t throw him out. Instead, I just watched him put away his yellow-tinted spectacles, retrieving the reddish-tinted ones again. Then he finally spotted the box on my dresser, scribbled-on brown paper still sitting beside it. The old man rushed over eagerly.
Did he send it? I wondered.
He reached into the box, taking out the note with an oddly reverent touch. He read it, smiling fondly, then looked up at me.
“So, where is it?” Grandpa Smedry – or whoever he really was – asked.
“Where is what?”
“The inheritance, lad!”
“In the box,” I said, pointing at the package.
“There isn’t anything in here but the note.”
“What?” I said, walking over. Indeed, the box was empty. The bag of sand was gone.
“What did you do with it?” I asked.
“With what?”
“The bag of sand,” I said.
The old man breathed out in awe. “So, it really came?” he whispered, eyes wide. “There was actually a bag of sand in this box?”
I nodded slowly.
“What color was the sand, lad?”
“Um… sandy?”
“Galloping Gemmells!” he exclaimed. “I’m too late! They must have gotten here before me. Quickly, lad. Who’s been in this room since you received the box?”
“Nobody,” I said. By this point, as you can imagine, I was growing a little frustrated and increasingly confused. Not to mention hungry and still a bit tired. And a little sore from gym class the previous week – but that isn’t exactly all that relevant, is it?
“Nobody?” the old man repeated. “Nobody else has been in this room?”
“Nobody,” I snapped. “Nobody at all.” Except… I frowned. “Except Ms. Fletcher.”
“Who is this Ms. Fletcher you keep mentioning, lad?”
I shrugged. “My caseworker.”
“What does she look like?”
“Glasses,” I said. “Snobbish face. Usually has her hair in a bun.”
“The glasses,” Grandpa Smedry said slowly. “Did they have… horn rims?”
“Usually.”