The Bequest by Hope Anika EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Hope Anika
- Language: English
- Genre: Romance Collections & Anthologies
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“DEAD?”
“Dead.”
“As in…kicked the bucket? Bought the farm? Sleeping with the fishies?”
“Er…yes.”
“Huh,” Cheyenne Elias said. “Well. Better late than never.”
The punctuated silence on the other end of her cell phone spoke for itself
—silencing people was something at which Cheyenne was proficient. The
sad fact of it was, shutting people up was ludicrously easy, because they were
usually so full of foolish expectation.
Death brought the expectation of grief. But grief was a product of loss.
And this was…
Plus column all the way, baby.
“I contacted you because you are named in Ms. Humboldt’s will,” the
voice on the other end continued, rather doggedly. “To inform you that you
have been designated as guardian to her minor son.”
Shock jolted through Cheyenne.
Shoe meet other foot.
“Huh,” she said again. Which was better than Have you lost your
goddamn mind? Or Ha ha ha! Suck it.
Grossly inappropriate, even for her.
“I quote: ‘In the event that my son, Rafferty Humboldt, is a minor at the
time of my death, I hereby appoint Cheyenne Elias to be the Guardian of his
person. My Guardian shall be held solely to the standard of good faith in the
performance of her duties, and shall exercise her authority without the
necessity of obtaining the consent of any court.’ ”
Cheyenne filed through the words and tried to think of something to say.
A toxic, jumbled mix filled her throat, unfit to speak. Her cell crackled, static
filling the silence she couldn’t.
Georgia Humboldt, dead. Six feet under and pushing up daisies…
Try hemlock.
“I realize this is probably a shock. I’m sorry. I urged Miss Humboldt to
contact you, to send you a copy of these documents, but she was insistent that
you not be notified unless she…”
Died. Unless she died.
“…well, only if it became necessary. I’m afraid her reluctance has left her
son a temporary ward of the State of Wisconsin, and if you decline to act as
his guardian, he will remain so until his eighteenth birthday.”
Too bad, so sad.
“Balls,” Cheyenne said. Because she wasn’t really that callous. She
wasn’t. No matter how easy it would be.
“You can decline, of course. But Miss Humboldt had been confident you
would take the boy in.”
Had she now? Well, wasn’t that special?
“Hardy-har-har,” Cheyenne said.
“I’m sorry?”
Talking to herself—while simultaneously talking to someone else—was
one of her worst tendencies. An old, bad habit of simply thinking out loud,
born when there was no one listening. But sometimes people thought she was
nuts, and according to Phil—her anger management counselor—that was the
idea.
You deliberately put people off, Cheyenne. Why do you think you do that?
Because people are assholes, Phil.
“Georgia’s idea of a joke,” she clarified. “Hysterical.”
The voice (whose name she couldn’t remember—Smith? Jones?—
attorney at law) replied, but it was inaudible, courtesy of the fact that she was
halfway up Sleeping Indian mountain, and backcountry trails were generally
not good cell receptors. She smacked her phone once, twice, knowing it
wouldn’t help, but it felt good. Then a handful of words materialized.
“..afraid…don’t follow…meaning?”
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