The revelation surprised me.
“He also had a Roth IRA account with a little more than $115,000. I’ve got that account information right here, and these are the notarized transfer papers. He also owns the house outright, which he has left to you. We don’t have a recent appraisal, but this is a prime location for mid-priced homes. There’s a home on the street just behind you that went for four-thirty-five last month. We’ll need to visit the title company to transfer it correctly.”
“This is…” I looked up at him. “I didn’t expect he would leave me anything.”
“Small compensation for losing your father, of course. I’m sure you’re already aware that he left you the bookstore.”
I leaned back slightly. “Then he did leave it to me…”
“I’m sorry, I assumed you knew. Yes, he left the entire business to you, including its assets.”
“Not to be crass, but is it worth anything?”
“He lived off it for thirty years. I know that he worked his tail off to keep it going, but it’s profitable. And, from what he told me, as a whole, things are looking up for independent booksellers.”
I had never once asked my father about the bookstore. Working with authors for a major publishing house, I knew too well the endangered-species status of most independent bookstores—suffering the same terminal fate as the record and video store.
“Along with the house, he left everything in it to you, including all his personal belongings, which includes his automobile, his Lladró and rare book collection.”
I was aware of the sculptures but not the books. “What books?”
“I don’t know exactly what they are, just that he has some valuable editions. He keeps them in a fire safe at the bookstore. There’s also a safe in the house where he’s stored some valuables. He put the combination to both safes in this envelope.” He handed it to me.
“Is there anything in it? The safe, I mean.”
“I don’t know what specifically, but he was adamant that I get this to you. He said that some of his most valuable possessions were in his home safe.”
“Do you know where the safe is?”
“I assume he wrote down the location with the combination. But even if he didn’t, it’s a small house. I’m sure you won’t have too much trouble finding it.” He rubbed his chin. “I know I just laid a lot on you, but have you considered your plans?”
“Things are a little fluid right now.” Fluid was an apt adjective, as I was pretty much drowning. “If you had asked me two days ago, I would have told you I was going to sell everything and get out of Dodge.”
Mr. Smalls looked up at me over his glasses. “You don’t like your father’s car? From my experience, a Dodge is a quality automobile.”
“I meant Dodge the old western town.” Nada. “I meant I was going to leave Salt Lake.”
“Of course.” He frowned. “As your attorney, I would suggest you give yourself a little time to think that over.”
Echoes of Natasha. “Are you my attorney?”
He hesitated. “That’s up to you, of course. But your father hired me to represent your interests. So, if your plans are still to ‘get out of Dodge,’ I’d counsel you to postpone your asset liquidation and departure for at least a few months. Winter is never the best time to sell a house, and looking over the bookstore’s financials, I noticed that more than thirty percent of the store’s annual sales take place between Thanksgiving and Christmas. So, if I were giving you business advice, I’d suggest you at least ride it out until Christmas before selling it or shutting it down.
“Something else to consider, if you do decide to shut down, that would mean letting your father’s most loyal employees go just a few weeks before Christmas. Maybe that doesn’t matter to you, but it would to your father.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I said. Considering that I’d just been fired, the idea of doing that to someone else didn’t appeal to me.
“So these are the documents you need to sign,” he said, pushing a small stack of papers toward me.
“Do you have a pen?” I asked.
“Right here.” He took one from his coat pocket. His hand tremored as he handed it to me. The pen was plastic and had his name on it. I went through the papers, signing each of them. After I finished, I handed him back his pen.
“You can keep the pen,” he said magnanimously.
“Thank you.”
He gathered one of the document piles into his satchel. “I’ll get these filed with the state on Monday.” He took the second pile and put it in a manila envelope and handed it to me. “These are for your records. I recommend you keep them someplace safe. Perhaps your new safe.”
“Thank you,” I said. “How do I get the insurance money?”
“I’ll take care of that. It usually takes thirty to sixty days. But I’ve already sent in the documentation, so I’d expect it around the first of December at the earliest. If you’d like a direct deposit, I’ll need your bank account and routing information. You can either email or text it to me.”
“A check will be fine.”
For the first time he smiled. “That will be an awfully big check,” he said. “I’d like to see the look on the bank teller’s face when you hand it to him.” He stood uneasily, then walked to the door, stopping before opening it. “You should know that your father was more than a client to me. He was a friend. A few years ago, I went through some really hard times. I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. On top of that, my wife left me. Your father was there for me. He gave me a book I’ll never forget—Man’s Search for Meaning.” He looked back at me. “Taking care of you is one way I can pay him back for all his kindnesses.” He handed me a business card. “I’m sure you’ll have some questions later. If there’s anything I can do for you, just call.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He walked out the door, grasped the handrail, and carefully stepped down from the porch onto the slushy walk. I shut the door behind him. Then I leaned back against it and breathed out heavily. Just days ago I had left New York with every intention of returning as soon as possible. Now there was literally no reason to go back.
For years, my father had tried to get me to move back to Utah. Now he’d created roots to keep me here. Roots or chains? Maybe there wasn’t a big difference between the two.
Whether that was my father’s intention or not, the lawyer and Natasha were right. It made no sense to rush things. For now, I would surrender to the universe and see where it took me.
CHAPTER seven
Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.
—Groucho Marx
I wondered what was in the safe. The lawyer had said that my father considered its contents among his most valuable possessions. I got the envelope from the table with the safe’s combination. There were instructions to both safes along with their combinations.
House safe. Left side of bedroom closet. Bookstore, fire safe, office, South corner, Wendy.