Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
The words carried a sense of finality I wasn’t prepared for.
“Everything?”
He tapped the inventory list with his index finger. “Yes, every item listed here.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “This is a lot to take in.”
“If it’s any comfort to know, Eleanor kept to herself, but she was deeply respected here. A kind woman. Very thoughtful.”
I appreciated his insight into my grandmother. “I wish I’d known her better.”
“My condolences, Ms. Cooke.”
“Thank you.” I forced myself to ask a question that had been gnawing at me. “Where is she buried?”
Mr. Huxley folded his hands on top of his desk. “Your grandmother chose cremation. Her urn is at the cottage on the fireplace mantel.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Thanks for letting me know.”
He slid one final envelope toward me. “Your next stop is the Timber Ridge Credit Union. Eleanor’s checking and savings accounts were also set up as payable to you upon her death, so you’ll just need to sign some paperwork to have them transferred to your name.”
I rose from my chair. “Thank you, truly.”
“It was an honor to serve your grandmother.” He stood with me. “Please reach out if you need anything while you’re in town.”
I nodded and stepped back into the front room. The receptionist looked up immediately, flashing me another warm smile.
“All set?” she asked.
“As set as I can be,” I murmured, wiggling the envelope Mr. Huxley had given me before tucking it carefully into my tote bag. “Could you point me toward the Timber Ridge Credit Union?”
“Of course.” She got up and walked me to the door. “Go left, then right at the bakery. It’s only two blocks down, you can’t miss the sign.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I headed in the direction she pointed out, ready for the next stop in the unexpected journey my grandmother had sent me on.
Everything in downtown Timber Ridge seemed to be close enough to navigate with a glance and a couple of street signs. The walk to the credit union took all of three minutes, except for the time I spent peering into the bakery window along the way. I was disappointed to see they mostly had pies, since I loved baking all kinds of bread, but they smelled delicious.
Mr. Huxley’s receptionist was proven correct. The tidy brick building with flower boxes under the windows and a hand-painted sign was easy to spot.
A teller with a cheerful smile waved me forward. “Hi there. How can I help you today?”
“I’m here to transfer a payable-on-death account.” I pulled out the envelope the lawyer gave me. “For Eleanor Cooke.”
Recognition flickered across her face. “Of course. Mr. Huxley already brought over her death certificate for your file, so no need for you to worry about that.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Small towns had advantages I hadn’t considered.
“May I see your ID?” she asked.
I handed my driver’s license over, and after typing a few things into her computer, she slid several forms toward me. “This first one is the POD authorization. After that, I’ll have you sign a new signature card. Your debit card will arrive by mail to the address on record, so let me know if we should update that to something other than Eleanor’s cottage.”
“Um, yes please.” I rattled off my home address while signing in all the required places.
“All done updating that in our system. You’re welcome to make withdrawals here in person while you’re in town,” she offered. “And if you’d like checks, I can order those for you, too.”
“Let’s hold off on that. The debit card should be enough for now.”
“That’s what many of our customers choose to do,” she replied with a polite smile. “Would you like your current balance?”
“Yes, please.”
She jotted down a number, turned the paper around, and slid it across the counter.
My eyes widened at the amount, which was enough to cover more than a year of my living expenses in the city. Maybe more if I stuck to a budget.
And the boons kept coming.
She slid a second slip of paper toward me. “This is the balance in the savings account.”
I nearly choked at the amount. It was significantly more than my annual salary.
She handed me a copy of my paperwork. “Welcome to Timber Ridge.”
“Thanks,” I murmured over the lump in my throat.
I was in a daze when I stepped outside, clutching my tote bag as my head spun with questions I’d probably never have answers to. I just didn’t understand why my grandmother left all of this to me instead of my father. He could be a jerk, but he was still her son. And for all she knew, I might’ve been worse than him.
As curious as I was about my grandmother, I wasn’t in a rush to see her cottage. Instead of heading straight there as I’d planned, I decided to explore the town. First, I wandered downtown and did some window shopping. But that got awkward when I spotted a gorgeous coat and realized I could afford the ridiculous price tag.