The Inheritance: A feisty, giggle-inducing romance

by Coleman, Angie

  Mrs Rochester told us that she would visit around lunchtime. The taxi pulls up and I begin to think about how I can find a way to let Mrs Rochester believe that everything will be shared fairly between me and Jamie. I have no intention of letting him get his grubby hands on any parts of the house other than the room where he will stay for the year. The rain hits the car windows and it distracts me so much that I’m even more irritated when I finally see the house again.

  “I can get out here, thanks.” I say to the taxi driver, as he pulls up outside number 37. The man turns towards me with a dumb smile on his face.

  “It’s forty-eight dollars and fifty-one cents please.”

  I grab my handbag and reach in it to find my purse. Then I freeze as a sudden realisation hits me – I don’t have any money! Damn!

  “I’m sorry, I…” I mutter to the taxi driver, who’s now looking a little concerned. I drop my handbag on the back seat and jump out of the taxi. Jamie is running towards the porch to shelter from the torrential rain. When he sees me, his face becomes even grimmer than it was before. Well, it’s not my fault if everything didn’t go as planned for him. We’re both in the same boat.

  “Hey, you don’t have fifty dollars, do you? I’ll give it back to you soon.”

  Jamie stops very close to me, sheltered by the porch. He’s staring at me with his eyes wide open.

  “You’re such a gold digger.” He shakes his head slightly as he speaks, making his hair dance in front of his eyes.

  “Oh, come on, it’s just for the taxi driver. I’ll give it back to you soon, I promise!” I insist. I really don’t want to be out in the rain any longer, I’m desperate to get inside and put some dry clothes on.

  Jamie keeps staring at me for what seems like eternity, then he gives in and slides his hand into his inner pocket to pull out his wallet. He hands me a fifty dollar note and, in the meantime, a piece of paper with some numbers scribbled on it falls on the ground. I could pick it up for him to thank him for his nice gesture, but I’m really not in the mood today. I turn round to pay the taxi driver while Jamie hunkers down to pick up the piece of paper.

  “Would you open the door for me now? I’m freezing!” Jamie exclaims impatiently. I almost feel sorry for him now, but I have to look impassive. The idea that this man will invade my private life makes me livid. I put my key in the door and dash into the hall. The faithful Gregory lifts his eyes up from the newspaper that he’s reading to greet me.

  “Good morning, Miss Morgan, and…”

  “Good morning to you, Gregory.” I interrupt him, because I know who else he was about to greet.

  A rustle behind my shoulders tells me my attempt failed: the two have just exchanged nods of recognition.

  I press the lift button furiously and tap my toe nervously while I wait for the lift to descend. Sometimes it seems to take ages for it to reach the ground floor; today’s one of those days.

  When the lift finally arrives, Jamie follows me in like my annoying shadow. We go up to the seventh floor, the lift opens to show the front door of my beautiful apartment. It almost seems a mirage. I dash inside quickly. Jamie huffs, annoyed, and follows me to the living room.

  The sight of my designer kitchen perks me up a little. Then Jamie stands in front of me and all my effort to try to forget how horrible today has been is in vain.

  “Okay then, Madam, may I know which room you’ve kindly allocated me? You know, just so I can drop some of my stuff in there, I left my luggage in the car.” That petulant attitude, again.

  “Don’t you dare call me Madam! This situation is not my fault.” I head to the stairs while I speak. This should be my apartment. It should be the beginning of my perfect life, with my comfortable routine.

  I stop at the top of the stairs to indicate the first door on the left to my annoying guest. That was Dad’s room and it’s very close to his personal library which is full of biographies and thrillers, his favourite genres.

  “That’s going to be your room, stay there as much as possible so you won’t invade my personal space.” I say sharply.

  “Where’s your room?”

  “All of the other rooms are mine.”

  “I mean, where are you going to sleep? Stop saying that I’m invading your privacy!” Jamie says angrily.

  “It’s exactly what you’re doing!” I reply coldly, I’m not afraid of his tone.

  “I didn’t write that will, it was your father, not me, so stop this show.” Now that’s a clever tactic – trying to make me believe that it’s my fault! My blood pressure is at boiling point; I don’t think I’ll be able to stand Jamie’s presence for long. I turn round and walk down the stairs to prevent my temper exploding. I hope he doesn’t follow me again. How the hell did Dad manage to find such an arrogant successor? Who does he think he is? The time when I used to think that he was a kind, loving man has long gone now. How on earth could I ever have thought that?

  It might be a good idea to start tidying up the kitchen, hopefully this will help me to calm down. I have some housework to catch up with. It’s always good to keep your place tidy when you have guests. As I walk to the sink, the mat decides to get hold of one of my wellies. A moment later, I’m on the floor with my leggings ripped. There’s nothing else that could go wrong today. I hear Jamie rush down the stairs while I try to pull myself together.

  “Are you alright?” He looks genuinely concerned. “I thought you were having a heart attack!” Oh for goodness’ sake, why is he so dramatic?

  “Of course I’m alright, is it not obvious?” I ask. I’m really not in the mood for an argument right now. His vaguely worried face takes on an expression of irritation.

  “You’re so ungrateful,” he says and stretches his hand out to help me up.

  “I never asked for your help.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly your problem.”

  “No, that’s not my problem, you are my problem. Try to stay away from me.” I say and I ignore his outstretched hand. Jamie stares at me, astonished, then he clenches his fists and presses his lips together. His eyes are now full of hatred for me.

  “Okay then, let’s see if you get by without any help.” Jamie roars furiously, then storms out of the kitchen. I wish he’d decided to walk away for good, but he’s only gone to pick up his stuff from the car. If I know him even a little, he’s not going to surrender that easily.

  *

  Two and a half hours later, the kitchen and the living room look just perfect. I managed to tidy it all up in record time and now I’m exhausted. I want to just drop on the sofa but I know that I’ll fall asleep if I do that and Mrs Rochester will be here soon.

  Jamie has fallen off the radar. The fact that he’s not around helps me to convince myself that I can survive this nightmare after all. I’ve been thinking about the will all morning, and I still can’t get my head around how Dad came to that decision. Jamie and I have never had a good relationship, at least not since it became clear that he would inherit my father’s company. From the first time I saw him, or at least the first time I saw him talking to Dad, I should have realised he was going to be trouble. Instead, I had a good impression of him initially; I was completely taken in by his attitude.

  I used to find him charming, handsome, interesting, but now I know that he’s nothing like that.

  The main reason I came to hate him is the fact that Dad decided to promote him to an executive position; even though Jamie knows nothing about leadership and administration; despite all my efforts to get a relevant degree. I may as well have studied something else.

  Yeah, that’s the reason why I began to hate him, but it doesn’t matter any more. I have my own job now, I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do. And I like my life.

  I just wish I could enjoy living in the apartment.

  I’m nearly done with dusting some of the shelves in the living room near the stairs, when the buzz of the entry phone distracts me from my thoughts.

  “Hello?” I lift the receiver
next to the front door.

  “Hello, Miss Morgan, Mrs Rochester has arrived. Shall I let her in?” Gregory’s calm, professional tone reminds me of an old-time butler.

  “Of course, Gregory, thanks.” I reply. I hang up and open the front door immediately. The sooner her visit begins, the sooner it will end. While waiting for the lift to open and let the lawyer out, I almost feel like an inmate under house arrest.

  “Hi, Mrs Rochester, come on in!” I greet her as soon as her serious looking face emerges from inside the lift. Her perfect hair bun reminds me of a strict school teacher, and her fancy glasses and her red lipstick make her attractive from an objective, girly point of view.

  “Hello, Miss Morgan,” the lawyer nods to greet me, then steps into my beloved apartment. She takes her coat off. “Mr Standley?”

  Her eyes run questioningly around the living room, looking for my flatmate, while I take her coat.

  “I believe he’s trying to unpack upstairs,” I reply calmly. The fact that I have to live with Jamie for a year doesn’t mean that I have to constantly take care of him.

  “Would you like to take a seat? Can I get you anything to drink?” I offer, while pointing to the comfortable, violet sofa in front of us.

  “Thanks for the offer, Miss Morgan, but I’m good. I’d like to talk to both of you so that I can explain to you how I will be conducting the inspections over the coming year, and all of the clauses in the will.”

  “Sure, I’ll call Jamie then. I’ll be back in a moment.” I walk towards the staircase, while she finally sits down on the sofa.

  On the upper floor, I stop indecisively in front of the door to what used to be Dad’s room. I can’t hear any noise from inside. Strange. I knock once and wait for an answer. Nothing.

  “Jamie, it’s me. Mrs Rochester is here. She’d like to talk to us.” Still nothing. Did he leave via the balcony? That’s impossible, we’re on the eighth floor! “Jamie!” I insist again, but I receive no answer. I decide to open the door. The room looks perfectly tidy, there’s nothing unusual except for the fact that he’s lying on the bed in the corner of the room. He looks asleep. He’s still wearing his smart clothes, with his white shirt unbuttoned at the neck and the dark trousers he was wearing when we met the solicitor this morning. His calm expression is gently illuminated by sunlight filtering through the curtains.

  I freeze for a few moments staring at him, as if I have never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Then he turns on one side and I realise how stupid I am. I must be tired, I haven’t slept that well this week. Yeah, it must be that. I try to convince myself that’s the reason I felt like that while I walk round the bed. I grasp his pillow and pull it away to wake him.

  “Wake up, Cinderella!” He opens his sleepy eyes with a start and looks around, momentarily disorientated. That will teach him; he needs to be prepared for Mrs Rochester’s visits.

  “What the…?” he mutters resentfully and then fixes his brown eyes on me.

  “Mrs Rochester is waiting for us downstairs. She wants to talk to us. Hurry up and come down.” I throw the pillow in his face while I tell him this, then I walk back downstairs. For the first time, walking away from him gives me mixed emotions. I don’t want to linger on these emotions too much. My brain will resume working fine after a good night’s sleep.

  A few minutes later, Jamie joins us in the living room. He still looks very sleepy and he has forgotten to tie his shoelaces.

  “Good to see you, Mrs Rochester.” Jamie greets her, shaking her hand, then he drops onto the sofa a few inches away from me. Feeling his body so close to me gives me a shiver for a split second, but I try to ignore the problem. I want to stay focused on the most important things.

  “So, what did you want to talk to us about?” I invite our guest to speak, whilst she’s smiling kindly at Jamie who has plonked himself down so ungracefully.

  “Thank you for being here, guys. Like Mr Orwell said, my duty will be to make sure that you adhere to the conditions set out in the will for the coming year. I’m going to have to visit you every now and again to check whether there has been any progress and I will write a report at the end of each inspection. Obviously, I won’t be able to inform you in advance, they will have to be unsolicited visits with the aim of establishing whether or not you are actually sharing the same apartment and the same duties as directed in the will” Mrs Rochester speaks in a professional tone.

  “Are you going to visit us at the lab?” Jamie asks. He seems to be alarmed by the possibility of her visiting him at work.

  “Of course, Mr Standley. As I’m sure you understand, it’s my duty to make sure that you collaborate at work and that you make managerial and organisational decisions by common agreement.” Mrs Rochester has begun to sound a little patronising; we’re not exactly children.

  “So we don’t necessarily have to be physically together at Morgan & Hall?” I’m worried about the answer to this question. I have my own full time job, and it’s nothing to do with pastries and chocolate.

  “Oh, no, don’t worry, Miss Morgan. I’m not expecting you two to always be at the same place together. All I have to do is to verify whether or not you’re both acting heads of the company, which is why I’m saying that all of the managerial and organisational decisions will have to be made together by mutual agreement. Basically, I have to be able to write in my reports that you’re both involved in managing the company as directed by Mr Morgan in his will.”

  ‘That’s a lovely gift from Dad’, I reflect bitterly. The fact that the words together, both, and agreement are repeated so often makes me very uncomfortable.

  “You’re aware that I have a full time job at the moment, right?” I ask, perplexed.

  “Of course, Miss Morgan. I’m aware that you’re working at The Lighthouse bookshop. I’m not asking you to quit your job; I don’t think that is what your father wanted anyway.”

  I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I suspect that Dad never really liked my job, especially because I was arrogant enough to snub the list of contacts that he gave me and found a job somewhere else.

  “You’ll just have to make decisions for the company together with Mr Standley.” Yeah, easier said than done. Ever since Jamie has been head of the company, I’ve been clueless about the company’s plans. Morgan & Hall has changed a great deal recently; the arrogant scumbag who’s sitting next to me has introduced dozens of new products which have quickly replaced the traditional ones. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to change the company’s name into Standley & Co. now. I’m ready for anything.

  “Everything clear?” Mrs Rochester asks, searching for approval in our eyes. We both look perplexed but we nod slightly, like two kids who have just been told off after a mischievous trick. It’s just a year, three-hundred and sixty-five days and then it will be all over. The lawyer smiles at us politely, then she stands up and walks towards the front door. I go to accompany her and – thank goodness – Jamie decides to stay on the sofa. I’m the owner of the house after all, so it’s my job to attend to our guests. I hand Mrs Rochester her coat and open the front door for her.

  “Well, I’ll see you soon then. Thank you.” I pretend to be enthusiastic, while I’m really extremely tired and irritated.

  “See you soon, Miss Morgan,” the lawyer replies. The lift doors open to let her in. I have a feeling that this is going to be an extremely long, tedious year.

  3

  “You look tired.” Elly’s worried tone brings me back to reality.

  “What?”

  “I just said that you look tired. What happened? I think you said you sorted the will problem at the weekend?” She’s rummaging in the cupboard behind the counter, trying to find some wrapping paper. Her fingernails are painted a flamboyant bright purple.

  “Yeah, I must have mentioned it.” I feel frustrated.

  “So what happened?”

  “My father has found a way to ruin my life even from the grave.” The tone of my voice is very low, m
uch like my mood today.

  “Oh dear, what did he do?”

  “The apartment won’t be mine for a year.”

  “I’m not following…” she interrupts me perplexed.

  “I have to spend a whole year sharing my apartment with Jamie.”

  “What?!” Her facial expression describes perfectly the tragedy of my situation.

  “You heard it right – my lovely father has decided that I won’t inherit his apartment unless I successfully spend a year sharing it with his beloved successor.” I continue.

  “Wow, now that’s bad luck.” Elly comments, drumming her fingers on the counter thoughtfully. “And you can’t do anything to get out of it?”

  “Trust me, if I could do anything at all I would have done it already. All I can do is to stay away from him as much as possible.” I mutter.

  “What was his reaction?”

  “To what?”

  “The co-habiting, what else?” she says impatiently. I can’t stand her when she has a peevish attitude with me. My mood is so low it’s practically underground now.

  “How do you think he took it, Elly?! He moved in, he brought his stuff round yesterday and this morning.” At least this has kept him away from me for a few hours.

  “Hmm, it’s probably not as bad as it seems, you know. You’ll follow different schedules and you’re very rarely going to bump into each other. Don’t be so discouraged about this, it might turn out to be a fun experience.” she comments optimistically. I wish I could steal some of her optimism.

  “My father has found the perfect way to make my life more difficult.” I mutter.

  “Yeah, your father never gave me the impression of being sensitive. It was already bad enough that he picked up a stranger from the street and gave him his company. Forcing you to live with him for a year is definitely over the top. I have a feeling that he didn’t like you very much; that’s pure evil.”