None of them had received only money. None of them had seen everything the others had been given. Henry wasn’t even sure he’d seen everything that he’d been given. He didn’t understand what the two sensitives had done to all of them but then things had been handed out to each of the seven beneficiaries. Not all the things, Great-Great-Uncle William’s house was very full of things, but many things - some of which had been living in safety deposit boxes.
Now it was time to leave and consider their booty.
Outside, Grace, one of the hither-to-unknown direct descendants was climbing into the driver’s seat of a long 1930’s era automobile, the word ‘car’ seeming inadequate. The bonnet looked long and wide enough to accommodate fourteen cylinders and a pair of machine guns, which wouldn’t have surprised Henry at all. It might have been useful for it to come with a mechanic – it was possible that it had.
Henry’s own collection of things included an old-fashioned bank book ruled up for pre-decimal currency, a set of property title deeds he hadn’t had a chance to look at, two wooden boxes, a small chest, a presentation box, several things that looked like clothing and a milk crate to hold it all. From the sounds he heard when he walked, there may have been other things in there as well.
The unrelated blond boy was Michael Stralbo. He’d chatted with both Henry and the girls, Annabelle and Grace, but professed to have no idea of why he’d been included in the group. Then he’d had a conversation with the solicitor and gone very quiet. Now he’d emerged from the house too, something long slung over his back and another milk crate in his arms. The main difference between him and Henry was that Michael had someone to meet him.
She was middle aged and sharp featured in the sense that she was on the hunt. She blocked his path, hands on her hips. “Now you’ve come into an inheritance, you can pay me back.”