Family Inheritance

We sat in the funeral home’s parlor, as instructed, impatient and annoyed that we had been summarily summoned to attend this private family meeting. Mother appeared to be somewhat beside herself, since she knew that the three of us would be demanding an explanation immediately following this event.

“I can’t stand funerals or funeral homes.” Gary, my brother, leaned over and attempted to whisper.

“I’d just like to know who all these people are, including the guy whose funeral we are attending.” Arthur shot back.

“Well it looks as if we’re about to find out? Shut-up!” I snapped at the two of them.

A short, compact, chubby man waddled into the room. He appeared awkward and uneasy, in one hand he carried a well-worn black leather brief case, and in the other a short stack of legal-size papers. He was wearing a solid black suit. The suit looked new, but resembled a style of men’s suits from an era long passed.

“I’m Charlie, you’re uncle’s attorney. Your uncle Jimmy, I mean James Riddle made conditional provisions for each of you in his will.” His breathing was labored, just as if he’d climbed several flights of stairs in a hurry. His face was dotted with beads of sweat that he wiped away with a white handkerchief.

As attorney Charlie handed each of us a packet of papers, I noted that each of our names were printed boldly on the top page. “You know who each of us are?” As usual, questions just pop out of my mouth. I mentally kicked myself for thinking out loud.

“After all, you are his only niece and nephew’s he ever claimed as kin. I’ve been Jimmy’s, I mean James’s attorney for over forty years. I’ll leave you with your papers. My card is attached, if not before I’ll expect to be hearing from each of you a year and a day from now. That would be October 27th, 2006.” Attorney Charlie then waddled back out the room exactly the same way he waddled in.

“Well it appears we have a proverbial long lost, rich great uncle, who was quite the entrepreneur.” Gary said sounding amused. Gary was a fast reader, sharp, but he evidently missed one important detail.

“Why are you laughing? What do you mean rich? As I understand the financials included in my papers, his business was bankrupt.”

“Well, maybe so big sister, but there is bankrupt, and then there is bankrupt. If you’d spent less time reading the financials, and more time reading the fine print and details in our great uncle’s notes to us, you’d see this is a wonderful and challenging opportunity.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about insurance, much less operating such a business.”

“What?” Gary looked confused. “I don’t know why you’re talking about an insurance company. My papers refer to great uncle James Riddle’s trucking company.”

“You are both confused; my papers refer to his brewery holdings. What do I know about operating a chain of breweries? I drink beer; I don’t know a damn thing about making it.” Arthur chimed in.

In unison we all turned and glared at our mother, who was just sitting there with her face all scrunched-up.

“Mother, our great uncle James Riddle was how old?” Arthur asked.

Barely audible mother replied, “Jimmy was born on February 14th, 1913; this past February he turned Ninety-seven.”

“So, mommy dearest, why didn’t you ever tell any of us about your Uncle?” Gary was the smart-ass of the family.

“Not here, let’s just go home, and I’ll try to explain.” Mama said in an unfamiliar tone, and we watched as she glanced nervously around the funeral parlor room. “There is some background I’m now forced to share with all of you about my Uncle Jimmy.” As we walked out of the funeral home, we all overheard mama muttering to herself about how, after all these years, she was sure this day would never come. Her limousine driver dutifully opened the door, and assisted her as she stepped in. We followed her home.

Mama’s beautiful French Country Estate home in Bloomfield Township, Michigan was her dream home. None of us had never thought to ask Mama how she came to own 2.25 acres in Bloomfield Hills.

“Jimmy bought this property for me so many years ago, I can exactly remember when. I know all of you, and most of Bloomfield Township thought I had lost my mind, and indeed it was extravagant for me to demolish the old house, and build this lovely home, but what else is money for if you can’t spend it?” Mama had so much history to remember, but it was time for her to tell us about our mysterious newly discovered Great Uncle.

“Mama, tell us about your Uncle, our Great Uncle, and why he left us such a strange conditional inheritance?” Gail asked.

“Children, does the name Jimmy Hoffa mean anything to you?” Mama always called us children.

“NO WAY!” Arthur shouted.

Gary and I just stood there, frozen. Arthur was acting the fool, as usual. Mama smiled a strange, mysteriously knowing sort of smile and said, “I assure you those businesses are far from bankrupt. Jimmy didn’t trust banks. The real estate holdings alone will make you each unbelievably rich. You’ll eventually find the money. Jimmy liked to hide cash, but along with all that money, the three of you will actually know where your Great Uncle Jimmy Hoffa is actually buried.”

Mama laughed, and went to the bar to fix herself a little Harvey’s Bristol Cream. We all followed her, but we were in the mood, and in the need of something much stronger than Mama’s Bristol Cream.

“I’ve got some books, and other papers all of you will need to see. Dinner will be served at 6:00 children. Be sure to dress, after all this is a very special occasion.”

*******

Word Count: 983

Prompt:

The New Prompt is:
You just inherited a bankrupt business from your great uncle, that you have never met, but as a stipulation of the will you aren't allowed to let the business close for at least a year to inherit the real estate of an undisclosed amount (or item)

Written for:

FORUM

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