The Business

The lawyer handed the document to her almost four weeks ago.

 “It comes with a specific caveat,” Ms. Wells. “You must claim the house by the end of the year or it will become property of the state. When you get there, take a picture and text it to me.”

How will you know that I won’t just take a picture of some old cabin somewhere?”

“We will know.”

“The end of the year? But that’s only three weeks away.”

The lawyer nodded his head in agreement with his final words, “Well, it’s up to you, Ms. Wells; it’s up to you.”

Lora met her best friend Kate for lunch a few days later.

“It’s just so weird, Kate. I barely knew the man, aka Uncle Fred. He was pretty much lost to the family living off the grid most of the time. I can only remember seeing him two or three times and each time it was at the funeral of relatives, shaggy looking hermit, long before mom and dad…”

She inhaled sharply, and couldn't finish the sentence, “before mom and dad were killed in that airplane crash.” 

Her parents were on their way, with friends, to “The Business,” meeting. That was the name of the company, “The Business.”

Her dad began training her when she turned 13, how to spot red flag triggers, when to take action and when to walk away, how to spot a liar, when to keep silent and when to speak, everyday stuff like that. Each time her dad would end the training with, “You need to know the business, Lora. You need to understand it all!”

Something had gone wrong with one of the engines and the plane took a nosedive into the earth not long after takeoff. She had just turned 18 but she was more than ready and able to take over “The Business” because of all her father had drilled into her.

Uncle Fred was her father’s uncle, her great uncle.

“What are you thinking, Lora?”

Kate’s question brought Lora back to the present setting.

Lora shrugged. “I’m still thinking, I guess. When I decide, I’ll let you know. I have to drive a distance, park the jeep and walk to the cabin, no other way to get to the cabin apparently and I’d like someone to know where I’m headed.”

“I’ll come with you, Lora.”

“No; this is something I should do alone. I’ll be alright.”

A week later, after notifying Kate and emailing her a copy of the map attached to the will, Lora threw a small suitcase into the back of her bright blue Range Rover and took off for the unknown.

Kate advised caution, “Just look at the place, text that picture to the lawyer to prove you were there, come back and put it up for sale, pronto. Do not hang around it or any little town along the way.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will do exactly that.” 

Lora smiled at her friend’s protectiveness. They had been friends since elementary school. Lora, tall and lanky with frizzy brown hair she always kept cut short; Kate petite and curvy with natural blonde curls past her shoulders when the curls succumbed to the heat of Kate’s daily flatiron attack. Her dad often called them the fraternal friends, so very different but so much alike, too.

Lora was well into the drive when she had to exit off the main highway to take what looked like a country back road, a winding rough asphalt road that became more and more narrow. It was some 40 minutes before she came upon a hand painted sign, “Welcome to our Happy Town!"

“Great Uncle Fred with the snuff stained beard, you chose some place to hide out. The sign says town but it feels more like some little burg stuck in a time warp.”

Lora drove through the center of the town that brought up memories of the black and white television program her grandmother loved to watch, “The Andy Griffith Show.”

“Hello, Mayberry!” Lora tried to mimic a southern accent as she shouted out the greeting.

Small faded wood framed buildings lined the road as she drove through, a filling station with two pumps set back a distance from the road. The few cars that passed her were older models; her blue Range Rover practically shouted “City Slicker!”.

Heading out of town she passed some modest homes, most painted white, a few scattered pastels. Some even had the proverbial wide front porch with colorful flowers in the front yard and big shade trees. She could almost see Aunt Bea sitting in her rocker on one of those porches. There were, of course, a few obligatory white picket fences, too.

The houses gradually faded away into a landscape that morphed into modest rolling brown hills, hills that rolled down into green pastures dotted with bright red barns. Eventually only the fields on either side of the now dirt road remained.

Her drive ended at a metal gate with a large “No Trespassing” sign attached to it.

Scanning the area around her, she looked to her right and saw the beginning of a worn path that had been noted on the map, the path she was supposed to take to the cabin.

She opened the jeep door, jumped out and slammed it shut.

“I’m not spending the night so no point in a suitcase.”

Clicking the car key, she locked the doors to the jeep, zipped up her red hoodie, pulled the hood over her head, took a deep breath and stepped onto the path.

She was walking towards a place (she hoped) she knew nothing about though her imagination told her it was probably some rickety old shack that had managed to weather the times until Uncle Fred the scraggly gave up the ghost. 

The many branched trees on either side of the path leaned into each other creating a leafy canopy under which she walked.

She could hear her Dad’s voice in her head: “When you face the unknown, and in this world it’s always unknown, always prepare for the unexpected!”

Suddenly the path opened into a clearing at the center of which was a building but it was more than just a cabin and the sight of it stopped Lora in her tracks.

“Great Uncle Fred, what the Hades!”

The “cabin” was more like a small woodland manor. The exterior practically glowed with polished logs into which were hand-carved intricate patterns of vines. The building was capped with a dark-green patina tinted roof that glimmered as the sun filtered through the trees.

Glass windows—tall, arched—wrapped around the building. The porch was bordered by black cast iron railings. There were beveled glass double doors which were were reinforced with iron scrollwork with a crown in the center..

Lora stood and stared at the building for a few minutes before she reached into the pocket of her hoodie to grab her camera, take a picture and text it to the lawyer.

“Of course there is no service, not even one bar. I’ll text it when I get back to Whateverburg.”

She tucked the phone back into the hoodie pocket, stood for a moment, again, to stare at the “cabin.”

“I’ve got to see what it looks like on the inside. I hope it's not locked 'cause Uncle Fred's lawyer didn't give me a key.”

She stepped onto the porch and pushed open the double doors.

A familiar voice greeted her as she stepped into the room.

“Well, hello Little Red Riding Hood. I’m happy to see that my map was on point, that it led you to here and to me. How do you like what I have done to the place? It was pretty much run of the mill until I put my imagination and my money to work. Isn’t it grand? Your uncle was such a gracious host when I stumbled across the cabin. Well, actually, not stumbled, but an intentional encounter on my part. You see, after the parting of the ways, I did some family research, your family actually and I discovered your dear old great uncle, tracked him down and spent some time with him. He was a little weird, loved his snuff, talked in grunts, but he had not forgotten you and told me his plans to leave this property to you in remembrance of his beloved nephew and wife. What a great way to locate you! He was such a character and who would question his quirks when he reached out to a lawyer by proxy (me, that’s me) from right smack dab in the middle of nowhere to create a will and when he died to ask that they do some research to find you and let you know about his intent and well, the rest is history and here we are. Good old Uncle Fred! He was so trusting. Welcome to your new home, dearest!

Right there, in the middle of the room, was an ex-lover. He was sitting on the floor wearing a black hooded robe and was surrounded by a circle of lit candles. He tightly clutched a bouquet of black roses in his left hand. His right hand remained in the pocket of that robe. 

The relationship had ended badly. In the beginning he had been amicable, personable, gracious and brilliantly intelligent. They had many deep conversations and many moments of hysterical laughter over the most nonsensical stuff.

“He’s the one, I think.” Those were her last words to her father before that infamous flight.

“As long as he fits into “The Business," and is not giving you the business,” was her father’s response.

Then things turned, after the funeral he became more and more possessive until Lora called it off.

“You’re smothering me!” she screamed at him as she spat out her ultimatum. “Stay away from me; you don't know me like you think you do!

He laughed. “You’ll never get away from me; I’ll always be somewhere watching and waiting for you to return to me.”

Lora was dragged back into the present by his voice.

“I’m so glad you took your time staring at the house before you came in; gave me time to fine tune my speech. I've been here a while. I knew you wouldn’t miss the deadline, not you, Miss always on time and straight to the point. Myers, arm the security system, now!”

He turned to Lora, winked at her and said, “I like that name much better than Bixby.”

She heard the click of door and window locks as shades slowly lowered until the room was in total darkness except for that stupid circle of candles that illuminated him”

“Damn!” 

II.

“Myers, disarm the security system, please.”

“Should have given Myers specific voice control, not as smart as he thought he was! Ugh, he’s put on some weight.”

Lora dragged the limp body out the front doors to a hill behind the house. Giving the body a shove she watched it slowly roll down to a rapidly moving body of water at the bottom; she waited a few moments to watch the body slowly disappear from view.

“Welcome to ‘The Business!’” she shouted.

Lora went back into the house and picked up the battery lit tea candles. 

“He was always a cheapskate,, even with all the money his Daddy left him.”

She looked around the room and spotted his backpack. Stuffing the candles, the black roses and the gun that was in the pocket of his black robe, she placed the pistol she always carried back into the inside pocket of her hoodie. He’d never know that about her, that she was always packed and loaded. She always had her piece always with her. Kate didn't even know about that side of her.

"Myers, secure the house, please." Throwing the backpack over her shoulder, she heard the click of locks as she walked back down the path to the jeep.

“Guess he didn’t remember my warning when I broke up with him, or he just didn’t believe it. I gave him the privilege of living when I walked away from the relationship.”

She waited until the day before New Year’s Eve to text the picture of the "cabin" to the lawyer along with the note: “Such a quaint little place; I think I’ll keep it for a while.”