The Haunting Read Free Page A

sometimes did when she’d just had a surprising thought, and a tiny smile flickered at the corners of her lips. She said, “Why don’t we order at the drive-in window? I saw a small park in the next block. We can eat our hamburgers there.”
    That was the difference between Mom and me. Mom and I saw the same problem. I had an embarrassing case of hysterics, but Mom worked out a solution to the problem. I slumped down in the backseat, wishing I’d gotten even a few of the genes from the Women Who Are Exceptionally Brave. Why did I get left out?

    We made it to the office of Gerald R. Clayton, attorney-at-law, exactly on time. It didn’t surprise me. Mom and Grandma were always prompt.
    Mr. Clayton was a tall, very thin man, who was wearing a charcoal gray pin-striped suit that made him look even thinner. He came to the waiting room to greet us and led us down a hallway to a small conference room. “That was a lovely memorial service for Sarah,” he murmured.
    When we were all seated and the receptionist had placed glasses of ice water for each of us on the table, Mr. Clayton said, “Sarah was a remarkable woman. Did she tell you that she gave me flying lessons?”
    He went on to tell us about the flying club Sarah had founded. It was an exclusive club with high dues, but the dues went to provide summer camp for children who wouldn’t have been able to go.
    I wished I had gotten to know my great-grandmother. I wished she’d had time to know me. I felt certain that I would have liked her even if her accomplishments seemed overwhelming.
    Grandma impatiently shifted in her chair. She cleared her throat, and Mr. Clayton changed the subject. “How long will you be in San Francisco?” he asked.
    “Only as long as it takes to dispose of Mother’s things,” Grandma answered. “Then I’ll return to my home in Baton Rouge.”
    Mr. Clayton nodded, then looked at the papersin front of him. “Are you ready for me to read the will now?”
    “If that’s what should be done. Yes,” Grandma said.
    “It’s not a complicated will,” Mr. Clayton began. “If you’d like, I can skip all the legal statements in the beginning and summarize it for you. I’ll give you a copy to read later.”
    “Thank you, that will be fine,” Grandma agreed. She settled back in her chair to listen.
    “Sarah Langley made some provisions for special gifts to a few select friends as well as her longtime caregiver. She has left a donation to the summer camp program, her favorite charity. And now for the family. She has left you, Mrs. Moore, as her only child, her house, most of the furnishings and property within it, and her stocks and bonds.”
    Grandma nodded. She threw a quick glance at me, as though challenging what I’d told her, and said, “And Graymoss, of course.”
    “Indeed, she has left property called Graymoss, which consists of a house, all its contents, the outbuildings, and land, to her granddaughter, Anne Starling.”
    Grandma sat upright, clenching her hands. She stared into Mr. Clayton’s eyes. “Are you sure my mother knew what she was doing when she made that provision to her will?”
    Mr. Clayton didn’t look surprised. I wondered if Sarah had warned him how Grandma would react. He stared right back and said, “This will was dated ten years ago. If you are concerned about whetheror not Sarah was of sound mind, I can assure you that she was.”
    Grandma thought for just a few seconds, then gave in. “It doesn’t matter who inherits Graymoss,” she said with a voice of authority, “as long as the house is destroyed.”
    Mr. Clayton picked up the will, turned a page, and continued, “Graymoss comes with a few strings. It was Charlotte Blevins Porter’s wish that the house be kept standing and well cared for, and it was important to the dear departed that this wish be carried out to the letter of the law.”
    “A wish is nothing more than a foolish notion,” Grandma retorted. “It wouldn’t be binding by