Page 26 of Eclipsed Legacy

I know I should turn away, but something inside of me urges me forward. Taking a reluctant step, I enter the craft room, which is about as a big as a bathroom. I half expect the images before me to change, as if all those protection spells Grandma casted are actually real and somehow an illusion guarded this place, but that’s only a fantasy.

“Why am I here, dammit?” I cry out my frustration. There’s nothing on the shelves that stands out, just old burned labels, melted plastic tubs, jewelry making kits, and— I realize as I take another step further into the room— apparently, loose floorboards that somehow didn’t get burned to hell. Vexed about as much as I can handle, I turn to storm out of the room like a petulant child, but stop in my tracks.

“Really? I am going to feel fucking insane if it’s nothing.” I shake my head at myself. Why am I saying anything aloud? There’s no one here! I turn around and kneel, pressing down with one hand on the loose floorboard while I use my other hand to try and pry it up. I strain harder than I expected I would need to, so hard that when the floorboard finally comes free, I nearly fall backward. Beneath the floor is a hollow compartment with a tiny box, resembling those that department stores place small trinkets in. I stare at it, half in disbelief that it is actually there and half relief that I’m not completely insane. Eagerness finally overwhelms me, and I lunge for the box like the pack on a buck. Scrambling, my fingers manage to lift the little cardboard lid. Inside is just a key with a sticker and the number 21786 scrawled in blue ink.

I hold the tiny key with two hands and shake my head. I still can’t believe it’s even here, but now that I have it, what am I supposed to do with it? I am too sleep deprived for these kinds of mysteries. I need coffee. Badly. Acknowledging my exhaustion only seems to make it worse as I feel my eyes grow heavier.

Nope. Not here. I slip the key into my boot, place the box in a tub, and return the floorboard as best as I can before climbing my way through the kitchen and leaving the house altogether.

Once in my car, I grasp the steering wheel tightly. Realizing that I very well may look like a wild woman, I flip open the mirror on my visor. My appearance isn’t nearly as bad as I thought, but I clean myself up a bit with the last Lysol wipe in a container on the floor. At least now I could pass for was-up-early-doing-yard-work. On a second thought, I clean up my boots a bit. “Here goes nothing,” I say aloud before starting the car and leaving the house.

I know it’s a long shot, but Grandma was about as paranoid as I’ve been lately. She never visited the bank often, but when she did, she was always weird about it. Something tells me I’ll find answers there.

I make the thirty-minute drive to Hoffman and Dell’s Bank. Grandma always went local. It’s nearly ten when I pull up, but they’re not very busy. There’s only one teller at the counter. She’s blonde and middle-aged with short-cropped hair and a black suit. Once she finishes with the only other customer, she greets me with a professional smile. “Hello, how can I help you today?”

I smile back, starting to feel unsure of myself. “I have a key that I think belongs to one of your safe deposit boxes.” I pull the key from my pocket and present it to the teller, Sandra, according to her name plate and tag.

Her mouth opens slightly before she responds. “Y-yes, that’s one of ours. You said you think it belongs to one of our boxes? Are you returning it?”

“No, it was left for me by my grandmother. She died in a fire two days ago.”

Sandra’s face softens. “I am terribly sorry for your loss. Unfortunately, if you are not the lessee, having the key does not give you legal access to the box, unless you are a co-tenant or deputy. But if it was your grandmother’s safe deposit box, and she is no longer with us, the Executor of her probate must take inventory of its contents. Do you happen to be a co-tenant or deputy for her account?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not really. If I am being completely honest, this is all very overwhelming.”

Sandra gives me a sympathetic smile before looking behind me. It seems there is another customer. “Why don’t I get Colleen to help you? That way you can sit down while you sort out this matter.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Sandra picks up the phone at her desk and dials four numbers. “Hi, Colleen? Yes, there is a young woman here inquiring about accessing her grandmother’s safe deposit box.” Sandra pauses. “Mmm-hmm. Deceased,” she says in a lower voice before pausing again. “Yes. M’kay. Thank you. M’ bye-bye.” She smiles brightly at me before indicating with her hand to one of the blue armchairs in the center of the bank. “If you would like to have seat, Colleen with be with you momentarily.”

“Thank you,” I answer, then make my way over to the chair.

Before my butt touches the seat, a stout woman in a pin-striped skirt and jacket greets me with her hand out. “Hello, I’m Colleen.” I take her hand, and she gives mine a nice, firm shake. “And what might your name be?”

“Tala.”

“Tala, please come into my office, and we’ll see what we can do about your grandmother’s box.”

I follow Colleen a few short steps into her office. It’s small, but so is the bank. I didn’t realize banks this small even had safe deposit boxes. Maybe they all do? Rather than risk sounding even more ignorant, I don’t voice any of my questions.

Colleen sits at her desk and quickly gets to work typing. “Tala, what were the numbers on your key.”

“217-86,” I say, as she types.

“Okay, and what was your grandmother’s name?

“Raina Ward. R-A-I-N-A W-A-R-D.”

“Thank you for that.” She looks back up at me. “Is your last name ward, as well?”

“Yes.”

“She has you listed as co-tenant, but I am not seeing any records with your signature.” I shrug. “No matter. You’re here. As the co-tenant, you have legal access to the box, but the contents of the box must still be inventoried by the executor of your grandmother’s probate in the presence of authorized personnel, such as a clerk of court. Do you know who your grandmother’s executor is?”