Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
“Coming!” I say when the jarring noise goes off again. The rental house I moved into is a small two-bedroom and one-bathroom, less than eight hundred square feet, and serves its purpose well. It also doesn’t take me very long to reach the front door, look through the sidelight, and see a woman in a sophisticated pant suit. My stomach would have dropped if this had happened before the judge signed, sealed, and delivered my divorce papers today.
“Hi,” I answer the door after twisting the knob. I’m trying to be chipper, except I’m anything but. I’d much rather be left alone, and my untucked dress shirt with the lack of shoes probably shows that more than I’d like.
“Hello, there, are you Lennon Sinclair?” the woman on the other side of my door asks. Thank god, I put in the paperwork with my lawyer to change my last name back to my maiden name. I’d have started over with a different name entirely, but Minnie, my baby sister, has the same name for now. Plus, I’d like to think we’d make a better name for it than our negligent parents.
“I am. May I ask what this is about?”
“I’m Miriam from Simon & Simon attorney at law. You’re a hard woman to get ahold of. Usually, we’d have you come into the office to give you this news, but we couldn’t find a phone number.” I pause to think about what Miriam just said. When everything went down, I had to change phone plans and numbers with my credit being shot. I either needed to ask my younger sister to add me to her cell phone plan or get a pay-by-the-month deal. I went with the latter, so unless this lady did more research about my divorce, it’d be pretty difficult to get ahold of me minus e-mail or snail mail. The mailbox at the end of the driveway is rarely checked since all of my bills are paid online, so who knows if she sent me a letter.
I blink, staring at her with wonderment at what she’s getting at. “Do you know an Estelle Sinclair?” I shake my head. “That’s okay. My firm is in charge of her estate. She left you a home in Whispering Oaks.” I’m stunned silent, trying to digest her words. I swallow air, opening my mouth, closing it, then proceed to do the same at least two more times.
“Me? Are you sure?” I point to my chest, wondering if she’s being serious, or maybe I’m on one of those shows where you’re being pranked.
“I’m sure. Here are the documents as well as the deed.” Miriam hands me the folder, flipping it open so I can read the information.
“Wow.” The word comes out with a breathless quality.
“I can see this is a shock. I’d love to give you more time to go over this, but as you’re the last living relative, there isn’t much else I can do except have you sign.” She continues talking. I hear bits and pieces. The house is paid off, there’s money left for taxes as well as a decent sum of extra cash. Is this real life? Me, the girl who has worked her ass off, is now divorced and essentially starting over from scratch.
“Oh, okay, I can sign.” Miriam pulls a pen from her breast pocket, clicks it, and passes it over. I probably should have offered to do this inside, but my manners are completely out the window.
“Thank you. Once you’ve signed, I’ll get your phone number and set up a time to finish the complete transfer of the property.” I go through the motions, remembering I’m a Sinclair again, so my signature takes a moment before I tell her my phone number. Then she’s walking away, and I’m left reeling for another reason entirely.
Once Miriam is pulling out of the driveway, I finally head into the house. I’m practically running to grab my phone to make an important call. The ice cream is completely forgotten, but the bottle of wine is in my hand. I take a sip directly from the rim and pull up my sister’s number, putting it on FaceTime. It rings a few times before she answers.
“Minnie,” I say.
“Lennie,” she replies at the same time.
“You’ll never guess what happened a few minutes ago.” The papers are on the table. I prop my phone up against a stack of books and take another sip of wine.
“Wow, sister, think you’re celebrating a bit much?” Minnie says with a laugh.
“Leave her be. She’s finally rid of that worthless piece of shit,” Clay interjects in the background. He’s not in the screen, but when everything came out and Minnie shared what had happened and then some, well, let’s just say he hugged me tightly and offered to pay my divorce fees, saying the Sinclair girls are done taking shit from the world. I love him for my sister, and while he was annoyed that I didn’t take his money, he understood my reasoning too.