Deadlines for Writers
Word Count: 1200
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This could change everything.
Without taking the time to eat breakfast, Marci had pulled boots on over her pajama pants and socks and grabbed her coat and hat. The wind picked up as she trudged through deep snow drifts along the half mile path.
Anticipation propelled her, one foot at a time. Once at the post, Marci used her fur lined mittens to push the heavy snow from atop the mailbox, then pulled down its front cover. The cold metal box was empty. Marci knelt down, pawing at the snow, searching for an envelope that may have fallen and become hidden from view. She found nothing.
Disappointed, Marci decided to return to the cabin she shared with Ben, her five-year-old yellow lab. He’d wanted to come along, but she’d kept him home, not wanting an errand to become playtime. With news of her father’s passing, Marci’s mother hinted at the possibility there was something significant left for her. The lawyer would be sending it via certified mail.
“A check?” she’d asked her mother.
“We shall see.” Was the simple response.
Marci would be grateful for the thought over any amount of money. She was stable financially, supporting herself with her Dog Booties business. Marci discovered that making a line of dog slippers and rubber boots could earn a comfortable living. She’d moved to Cripple Creek, Colorado, and enjoyed a life of simple solitude.
Marci’s parents had divorced when she was seven years old and she did not have a close relationship with her Dad. There was no recognition for birthdays or on Christmas, just an occasional phone call through the years. Just a “How you doing, kid?” and forced dialogue that lasted no more than a whopping five minutes. Marci thought about those awkward calls and the polar opposite reaction she and her mother had to them.
Marci hungered for contact from her father while her mother raged against it. Without explanation, there was hatred in Mom’s eyes at any mention of “Jack” and his calls were treated with contempt but she allowed the conversations, nonetheless.
If Jack Morris left something for her, then it proved he cared. Maybe even loved her. She was after all, fifty percent of his DNA. The fact that he’d named her in his will answered this lifelong question.
Marci spotted the cabin through the bare trees and there was Ben at the window, jumping with delight at the sight of her. Ben fulfilled a basic need to be loved truly, especially by a guy. Though a dog and not a person, she trusted this animal more than any human. Ben was always happy and was never disinterested. He sought out her company and seemed to bask in her love for him. Ben’s only flaw was that his lifespan would be shorter than her own. The thought of losing him one day absolutely leveled her.
Pushing the door open, warmth greeted Marci and Ben sniffed her as he jumped in the air repeatedly, trying his best not to maul her with joy. Marci shut the door as the phone began to ring. She scooted Ben out of the way and entered the kitchen where her cell phone buzzed on the small table.
“Hello?”
Silence accompanied static and then Marci heard a sigh.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
The line suddenly went dead, then began to beep.
“That was weird.” Marci looked into Ben’s hopeful eyes. “Do you want a treat?”
Ben raced for the shelf where his dog biscuits resided in a large clear plastic container.
“You’ve been a good boy. We will go out and play later. I just needed to be alone for this.”
Marci threw Ben one biscuit, shaped like a bone, which he caught midair, then she tossed him another, which he chased under the table.
The phone rang again.
“Hello?”
“Is this Marci Morris?”
“It is.”
“My name is Dave Thompson. I am Jack Morris’ attorney and I’m calling about his estate.”
“Okay.”
“You should receive a letter sent certified mail. You’ll need to sign and notarize this document granting you ownership/the deed to his property.”
“Property? Where?”
“Sedona, Arizona. It’s 2.25 acres.”
“A house in the desert?”
“It’s a lot.”
“It’s a lot of what?”
“No, it’s a bare lot. No building. Just land.”
“Weird.”
“It’s worth a lot of money if you choose to sell.”
Marci’s mind was reeling. “How much is it worth?”
“About seven hundred thousand.”
“Whoa.”
“You should get a packet in the mail today or tomorrow. As I stated, sign where indicated and have it notarized. You can send back to me the same way and you’ll have proof of delivery.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Have a nice day, Ms. Morris. My condolences for the loss of your father.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Marci set the phone down and stared at the floor. Ben leaned his hundred pounds against her leg.
“We’re property owners now.”
Marci wished she could ask her father why he’d left her a chunk of land. She had no idea what to do with it, especially out in the desert? She imagined him penniless, living among the parched dirt and cacti in a dilapidated tent.
Reluctantly, Marci called her mother. She explained the turn of events and asked her advice.
“Jack had an apartment in Michigan. I never knew him to live anyplace else. He gambled sometimes; maybe he won the land in a bet or something.”
“He lived a long life after you divorced him; you don’t know what his life was.”
“I struggled without child support, dear. I always knew where he lived; I hired a PI at one point.”
“Wow. You kept track of him for money? Not for me?”
“Honey, he wasn’t a good man. You are better for not knowing him.”
“Why would he leave me a piece of the desert?”
“Who knows …”
“The lawyer said I could sell it.”
“You can do whatever you like.”
“I have no idea what to do.”
“Marci, this is the only thing your father has ever given you. Make the most of it.”
“Do you think something is buried there? Maybe something for me?”
Marci’s mother laughed and said, “Now there’s a question I don’t want to know the answer to.”
“Hey Mom, how did you know Dad left me something?”
“Because he left something for me, too.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Mr. Thompson contacted me.”
“About me?”
“Yes. Please don’t ask me for details.”
“I’m twenty-three years old so permission wasn’t needed and my address is public.”
“Fine. Your father requested I prove paternity before you were notified of his ‘estate’.”
“Oh, my God.”
“I provided your birth certificate and your blood type is already on file with your doctor. Who knows how many other kids he has out there.”
“I never considered that.”
“I’m not serious. You were his only child. I was his only marriage. He was an unpleasant soul.”
“Maybe you made him that way.”
Marci was instantly ashamed for attacking her mother, but was tired of hearing only negative things about her father. She softened and said, “There must have been something you liked about him. You married the man.”
“Yes, he was wonderful until -”
“Until what?”
“Never mind.”
“Until me?”