One Stupid Thing

Love, Mom

Right as John B and Sarah drive off in the Twinkie, a fancy-looking, black SUV passes them on their way up the driveway. Pope halts on the way over to the truck and looks back at Cleo and I. "Either of you know who that is?"

I shake my head at the same time Cleo says, "Not a clue."

The SUV, which I now recognize as a Buick Enclave, slows to a stop in front of our house. A man in an expensive suit steps out of the drivers seat and approaches us carrying a briefcase at his side.

"Hey, can we help you with something? Directions, maybe?" Pope offers, eyeing the man warily.

"No, thank you, I'm actually looking for Blair Finch." I instantly stiffen at the mention of the name, but neither of my friends react with anything other than confusion. "Oh, wait, maybe the name, Stella Cameron, rings a bell instead?"

Cleo and Pope both turn to me with furrowed brows. "That's me."

The man turns to me with a solemn smile and holds out his hand. "My name is Dan Weatherbee. I was your mother's attorney. It's very nice to finally meet you."

"Oh." All my hopes of seeing JJ soon flew out the window with a single sentence. I take his hand and shake it firmly. "Nice to meet you, too." I turn to Cleo and Pope, who both look at me with so much sympathy that it makes me feel sick. "Um, why don't you guys go ahead without me. I'll be okay."

"You sure? I can stay here if ya need," Cleo offers.

"Yeah," I assure her. "This seems like the kind of thing I should do on my own."

"We'll come back right after," Pope says.

"Thanks, guys. I'll see you later." I turn back to Dan and gesture to the front door. "Let's go inside, shall we?" I lead the way back into the living room that I was just in a moment ago. All of our stuff from dissolving the barnacles was still laying out all over the place. "Sorry about the mess," I apologize while I awkwardly clear the coffee table. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Uh, no, that's okay." Dan sits down on the couch and I sit in the saucer-shaped chair that my sister accompanied earlier. He places his briefcase on the newly cleared table and opens it towards him. "So, Blair— uh, Stella. What name do you go by?"

"Stella's fine." I shift uncomfortably and tuck my legs up under me, criss-cross applesauce style. "Blair was what my mom called me."

"My condolences. Your mother was a lovely woman."

"Thank you, Mr. Weatherbee."

"So, the reason I'm here today is to discuss Margaret's personal effects," he tells me. Dan ruffles through his briefcase and pulls out a manilla folder, flipping through it until he finds his desired page. "Even though you are her last living relative, that doesn't automatically put everything in your name, and, considering that she hadn't updated her will recently, a reading of it is necessary."

I nod fervently. "I understand, sir. We had only just reconnected at the end of 2020."

Dan nods in reply, too busy pre-scanning the document to speak. Suddenly his eyes grow wide and he clears his throat. "I stand corrected. It says here, 'I, Margaret Anne Finch, leave my property, along with everything inside, to my daughter Stella Blair Cameron. With her, I also leave my remaining assets and finances to be put in trust until August 12th, 2024, to which, at that point, she may do whatever she sees fit with it'." He pulls out a the page after that. "And I've got the trust account information right here."

My jaw drops. Margaret left me... everything? "I'm sorry, I'm just a little speechless over here. My mother told me that she had been told I was dead. I thought she didn't know I existed until I showed up on her doorstep in Lisbon."