Dinner completed and George pacified with the roast beef Jane slipped him, Jane set her dishes in the dishwasher and refilled her wine glass. “Come along George, might as well go see what secrets the hand addressed letter from England holds.” Jane remarked on her way out of the kitchen. George listened but decided that he would much rather take a nap and sauntered into the bedroom and promptly curled himself into a plump black ball and began deep but gentle snoring on Jane’s pillow.
Jane flicked on a couple of reading lamps as she moved into the living room and then closed the drapes. The room was cast in a nice mellow warm white glow, perfectly illuminating the soft blue walls and forest green drapes. Jane returned to her favorite chair and tucked her feet up under her, an old habit from childhood she never outgrow despite her mother’s valiant attempts to dissuade the behavior all of these years. Jane set her glass of Merlot down on the table next to her without glancing down as she did so, somehow missing the stack of books and the letter. Jane settled into her comfortable position and was content.
Any stranger peaking through the window might get the impression that Jane was an old spinster more comfortable with her books than other people based solely on appearances. The first thing they would notice is the comfortable, somewhat worn furnishings of the room. Jane’s favorite chair was an imposing wing back chair covered in a floral print. There was a much loved writing desk tucked into the corner of the room, with an uncomfortable looking chair. The desk itself was cluttered with books and papers sticking out of books. The various tables scattered about the room all had books on them in addition to lamps and flower vases. The walls were lined with bookcases as well. Overall, from the outside the room looked antiquated.
Jane loved this room however, the smell of roses that bloomed year round in her garden and the smell of books. A visitor to Jane’s home who took the time to look at the extensive book collection would immediately notice how eccentric the collection was. There were fantasy books, romance novels, biographies, histories, beloved children’s books, livestock books, and home repair self-help books. There was an extensive section devoted to mystery novels that had all been well read over the years. And scattered amongst all these books and roses were the photos of Jane and her family. Her husband Fred, their dogs, the three kids, and the many adventures they had taken over the years.
Jane took a sip of her Merlot and picked up the letter. Unfolding it carefully, the first thing to grab her attention was the letter than tumbled into her lap. This letter was on a lesser quality paper, and clearly not handwritten. Jane decided to read the intruding letter first.
From the Office of James Beardsley, Esq.
Canterbury, England
Dear Mrs. Jane Perkin,
As you may or may not be aware, the last surviving cousin of your husband’s family in England, Miss Eliza Perkin, has passed away. Her Estate has been handled according to the terms of her will. Her last bequest is this letter to you.
As requested by the Miss Perkin and the letter enclosed, the referenced item is being sent to your residence in Arizona. Please have someone available to sign for delivery on 3 February 2013 barring any delays from clearing customs and winter related weather.
There will be no further contact from my office. Should there be a problem with delivery as specified please work out the details with the agent. He contact information is contained on the enclosed business card.
Sincerely,
Mr. James Beardsley, Esq.
Jane set the letter aside and looked at the business card in her lap.
Carollton Custom Couriers
Over Land or Over Seas – we handle the intricacies of moving for you
James Carollton, Owner
jc@carolltoncouriers.com
“Well, what a rude and abrupt man Mr. James Beardsley, Esq. is!” Jane exclaimed to herself. But if Fred or the children had been around, they would have clearly heard the twinge of excitement and wonder in her voice.
Jane picked up the letter from cousin Eliza with a strong twinge of sadness. The old gal had passed and the only notification to her remaining family had been the brusque missive from the solicitor. “Fred and I will just have to find some way to honor her memory more appropriately,” Jane muttered to herself as she slipped on her reading glasses and began to read the letter.
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