if you’d like me to come back later, I understand.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “Hold on a moment. Let me get some clothes on.” I shut the door on him, went to my room, pulled on my jeans and a long-sleeved blouse and sweater, then came back and opened the door. “All right, you can come in.”
“Thank you.” He stepped into the front room and I closed the door behind him.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Uh, no thanks. I’m good. I’m trying to cut back on caffeine.”
“I’m going to get some for myself.” I motioned to the front room couch. “Have a seat.”
“It would probably be better if we sat at the table. I have a few documents that need to be signed.”
“Wherever you like.” I went into the kitchen and poured my coffee, then brought it to the table. The lawyer was already seated. He had opened his satchel and laid out his papers in a few orderly piles. He looked up at me as I sat.
“Your name is Christopher?”
“Yes, ma’am. Christopher Smalls.”
“How long have you been my father’s lawyer?”
“I’ve worked with your father for more than ten years, when he hired me to draft his first will, which we updated just a few weeks ago.” He lifted his pen. “So, in his will, your father left you everything he owned.” He handed me a few papers. “We’ll begin here. Your father didn’t have a lot of liquidity, but he maintained a life insurance policy worth a million dollars, for which he named you the sole beneficiary.”
“A million dollars? Why would he have that much coverage after my mother’s death?”
The lawyer glanced down at his papers. “He actually increased the benefit after your mother’s death.” He looked up at me. “He did it for you.”
The revelation surprised me.
“He also had a Roth IRA account with a little more than $115,000. I’ve got that account information right here, and these are the notarized transfer papers. He also owns the house outright, which he has left to you. We don’t have a recent appraisal, but this is a prime location for mid-priced homes. There’s a home on the street just behind you that went for four-thirty-five last month. We’ll need to visit the title company to transfer it correctly.”
“This is…” I looked up at him. “I didn’t expect he would leave me anything.”
“Small compensation for losing your father, of course. I’m sure you’re already aware that he left you the bookstore.”
I leaned back slightly. “Then he did leave it to me…”
“I’m sorry, I assumed you knew. Yes, he left the entire business to you, including its assets.”
“Not to be crass, but is it worth anything?”
“He lived off it for thirty years. I know that he worked his tail off to keep it going, but it’s profitable. And, from what he told me, as a whole, things are looking up for independent booksellers.”
I had never once asked my father about the bookstore. Working with authors for a major publishing house, I knew too well the endangered-species status of most independent bookstores—suffering the same terminal fate as the record and video store.
“Along with the house, he left everything in it to you, including all his personal belongings, which includes his automobile, his Lladró and rare book collection.”
I was aware of the sculptures but not the books. “What books?”
“I don’t know exactly what they are, just that he has some valuable editions. He keeps them in a fire safe at the bookstore. There’s also a safe in the house where he’s stored some valuables. He put the combination to both safes in this envelope.” He handed it to me.
“Is there anything in it? The safe, I mean.”
“I don’t know what specifically, but he was adamant that I get this to you. He said that some of his most valuable possessions were in his home safe.”
“Do you know where the safe is?”
“I assume he wrote down the location with the combination. But even if he didn’t, it’s a small house. I’m sure you won’t have too much trouble finding it.” He rubbed his chin. “I know I just laid a lot on you, but have you considered your plans?”
“Things are a little fluid right now.” Fluid was an apt adjective, as I was pretty much drowning. “If you had asked me two days ago, I would have told you I was going to sell everything and get out of Dodge.”
Mr. Smalls looked up at me over his glasses. “You don’t like your father’s car? From my experience,