Becca laid out each piece from the case onto the table in front of her. A black candle, a white candle, a pink candle, and a lighter. A small bag of some herb. She smelled it. Sage. Another bag of maybe charcoal? And another with what looked like rosemary. A small box with carvings but completely sealed. She opened the envelope that had rested on top of the pile and read the letter inside.
Dear little B,
This might come as a surprise to you, but when I thought about who should get all my worldly possessions, I could think of no one better than you. This stupid attorney keeps hounding me to get it together. I’m gonna make it easy. You get it all. But I don’t want to just give it to you without knowing you are the same little sweetheart who used to help me with my spirits. Our family has a way of corrupting people, after all, so what if you turned into a crazy person too? I can’t have my stuff going to crazy people. If you decide that you don’t want to stay and you don’t want my trinkets, it all goes to my cat, Cora. She’s the next in line in deserving my things. Please let Mr. Honeyweather know as soon as possible so that little Cora gets her meals on time. She will need to be fed twice a day and rewarded with treats abundantly.
She turned the paper to see if there was anything else written, knowing full well there wasn’t. The paper was heavy and the edges were torn. She wondered if she had prepared the paper like they used to do for projects when she was little.
The nostalgia returned at the addressing as little B. Aunt Jo would call her that when she was small and pat her on the head. As Becca grew taller, the pats stopped but the little B held on. The thoughts in Becca’s head jumped around. She laughed a bit at the thought of Aunt Jo calling the family crazy when she was the only one to have been literally institutionalized.
Her phone rang. Mr. Honeyweather. Only Aunt Jo would find and use an attorney with the name Honeyweather when in fact even finding an attorney when your family held a few themselves, was ridiculous.
“Hello,” he started. “I hope the day is finding you well.”
“Yes,” Becca answered. She hadn’t felt so well in awhile. Like everything was right in the world.
“I was wondering when you will be headed to the house,” he continued. “Cora will need to be fed before 9AM.”
He really has been feeding the cat. “If I head there now I could make it,” she said. “But I was hoping to have some time to pack up and I do have to work later.”
“I will do the morning then and should I expect that you will have this evening and the future feedings?”
Am I really discussing the schedule of a cat. “Yes,” Becca answered. “I can head there after work today.”
“That would be lovely,” Mr. Honeyweather said. “I hope you have a fantastic day at work and I’m sure we will be speaking of the little details soon.”
“Yeah,” Becca went on, “Wait, do you have the key to the house?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s right there in the box.”
Becca looked at the items on the table and then picked up the box, shaking it upside down. “Um, there isn’t a key,” she said.
“It’s in the little box,” he said. “You’ll have further instruction when you reach your new home. You’ll need to check the mailbox that is next to the door to find the next bit of information.”
“Oh, so it’s like a treasure hunt,” she said, more to herself than to Mr. Honeyweather.
“That’s the spirit! Josephine said you would enjoy this.”
Becca did not know how to think about what was happening in this conversation and began to wonder if it was even real. “Thanks,” she uttered.
“Of course, and you have my number if there are any other problems?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
She hung up the phone and remembered she had a breakfast date with her dad. Quickly pulling a shirt over her head, she jumped into a pair of leggings and grabbed her bag. Pushing her feet into sandals as she exited and descended the stairs was the best she could do or risk being late, something her father despised.
Upon arriving at the restaurant, she suffered another punch in the gut. Andrew sat across from her dad.