“Ms. Dougherty? This is Michael Morrison, your mother’s probate attorney. I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Dougherty”
“Yes, I got your message. And thank you, I mean…Mr. Morrison, I’m just going to be frank. I haven’t spoken to my mother in years. Ten of them. I’m sure whatever she’s left me in her will has long since gone. And knowing her penchant for accumulating useless crap, I’m not entirely certain I want it, but I know you have a job to do. Let me just give you my address and you can ship whatever it is-”
“Ms. Dougherty,” Morrison interjected. “It’s not that simple.”
“Look, just have my sisters pack it up, if they don’t want it, and ship it-”
“MISS DOUGHERTY.” Grace raised up a little, grated by his attitude. “It’s not an it. It’s a HER.”
“Excuse me?” Oh lord, has mother gifted me her dog?
“Some 5 years ago your mother adopted a child. A girl. Your adopted younger sister. She named you as the beneficiary should anything happen to her. And being that there’s a law against boxing up live children and shipping them across country, you’ll need to come to my office. Here. In Texas.”
By this time, Grace had gone from perturbed to dumbfounded. Penelope observed her friend’s face quizzically as it radically changed from annoyance to stupefaction. “What?” she whispered to her friend on the phone.
“I inherited a kid.”