The Family Plot Read Free

he declared, “Ms. Withrow, we’ve got a deal.”
    â€œExcellent! Shall we summon your finance fellow, for approval?”
    â€œNah. He works for me—not the other way around.” Until the first paycheck bounced.
    She rose to her feet, papers in hand. “You are the boss, after all.”
    â€œDamn right, I’m the boss.” He took her papers and signed where indicated. He produced a checkbook, started writing, then postdated the check by several days. “I’ll need to juggle some funds,” he explained. “I hope that’s all right.”
    â€œJuggle away. I’ll sit on the check if you like, but you only have until the fifteenth to get the job done. That’s when the wrecking ball arrives, and your time is up.”
    â€œTwo weeks is good. We won’t need half of that.”
    â€œI’m glad to hear it.” Then, for the first time, she hesitated. “And I’m glad that the things which can be saved … will be saved. I don’t know. Maybe you’re right, and maybe it’s a shame to see the place go. Maybe I should’ve tried to find a buyer … Maybe I should’ve…” She looked at the folder on his desk, and the check in his hand. For a split second, Chuck thought she might tell him to tear it up—but she rallied instead. “No, it’s done now. I’m done, and the estate ends here. Believe me, it’s for the best.”
    Chuck handed over the check with two fingers.
    Augusta Withrow traded it for a set of keys, and thanked him.
    â€œNo ma’am, thank you ! And I promise we’ll do our best to treat the old place with the respect it deserves.”
    Her face darkened, and tightened. “Then you might as well set it on fire.”
    She left his office without looking back. The sharp echo of her footsteps rang from the concrete floor as she retreated the way she came—between the rows of steel shelving stocked with wood spindles, birdbath pedestals, and window frames without any glass. When she turned the corner beyond the row of splintered old doors, she was gone … and only a faint whiff of flowers, tobacco, and Aqua Net remained in her wake.
    Chuck took a deep breath and held it, then let it go with a nervous shudder.
    Forty grand was a lot of money, but he could swing it, he was pretty sure. He could rig up enough credit and cash to cover expenses for the next few weeks, until the Withrow stuff flew off the shelves and refilled those dusty corporate coffers.
    â€œIt’s a gold mine,” he reassured himself, since nobody else was there to do it. “This is a good idea. We can do this.”
    â€œWe can do what?”
    He looked up with a start. He wasn’t alone, after all. His daughter leaned around the doorframe, peering into the office. “The Withrow estate,” he told her.
    â€œWhat’s the Withrow estate?” Dahlia Dutton strolled inside and planted her ass in the same seat that Augusta had recently vacated. “Does it have something to do with that old lady who just left?”
    â€œYup. That’s Augusta Withrow.”
    She gazed across Chuck’s desk. “You cleaned up for her. She must be rich. Hey, wait—is this that place James was going on about? The one in Chattanooga?”
    â€œThat’s the one. You wouldn’t believe it—this lady’s just walking away from a gingerbread mansion with a carriage house and a barn. James said we could earn back a nickel on every penny.”
    Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. “How many pennies, Dad? ‘Estate’ is usually code for ‘expensive.’”
    â€œIt was … a good number of pennies, yes. But it’ll be worth it.” He shoved Augusta’s folder across the desk.
    Dahlia picked it up and opened it. She flipped through the first few pictures, scanning the highlights. She let out a soft whistle. “Many, many pennies, I assume.