The hotel where the family was meeting looked the same as it did ten years ago. The same faded carpet and the same dull paintings hung on the wall.
Just as I entered the lobby, a voice rang out.
I turned around to find my uncle. “Daniel. I haven’t been Danny since I was ten”.
He motioned me into the dining room, where the family gathered immediately asked, “What’s the deal with the will?”
It was always about the money.
I shuffled some papers and cleared my throat. “According to Dad’s will, no one inherits the factory or the estate. In the most recent will he made before becoming mentally unstable, he created a foundation, headed by Loraine Crump, his former nurse to manage both.”
I quoted from the paper in my hands.
“Loraine put up with me, cleaned up after me, and showed more grace in her little finger than the rest of you idiots. She stayed up hours reading to me, even after I couldn’t hear her well, but I knew she was there. She dealt with the insurance and the hospitals and went to appointments with me. She has shown that she is more than capable of running this business better than the rest of you. There will be a small grant for most of you, but if you contest the will, you forfeit the grant and all other rights to the estate.” Signed and dated last year, witnessed by two people unrelated to the family or business.”
A sharp cry came from the back of the room. Everyone looked around to see Loraine Crump lying on the floor, blood flowing from a knife embedded in her chest, my uncle next to the body.
"Now who inherits the dammed money?"
“Now who inherits the damn money?”