What Happened in the Kitchen

The kitchen was almost entirely covered in white, white cabinets, white walls, and white countertops. The floor was made of white ceramic tiles, even the appliances were white. The only color in the entire room came from the wooden butchers block in the middle. Angie smiled at the warm brown color of the wooden block; she was glad to see something inviting within the confines of the white kitchen. However, she wouldn’t be smiling if she knew what it’s purpose would end up serving.

Angie’s nerves were on fire, although she had an idea, she didn’t know exactly what she was doing at her late grandmothers estate. It was late in the evening and not having her day planned out was extremely uncomfortable for her. It was one reason Angie enjoyed her job as a lawyer, not only was each day laid out in advance, but the day itself was categorized and divided into fifteen-minute increments for her. Each billable hour broken down for every task she completed. As soon as Angie joined the law firm fresh out of college, she started to organize her time outside of work much in the same way. Her commute to and from the office took thirty-three minutes each way. Her time spent at the gym consisted exactly of one hour and twenty minutes, six days a week. She allowed herself fifteen minutes to get from the weight room floor back into her car. Technically it only took ten minutes to walk from the gym floor, grab her bag out of the locker room and get into her Mercedes, nonetheless she gave herself an additional five minutes in case someone at the gym initiated conversation while she walked past the smoothie bar on her way to the exit.

Angie’s life was a well-oiled machine and although most men didn’t appreciate her punctuality her clients did. As each year passed Angie excelled at work, winning case after case, each more difficult than the last. Slowly making a name for herself among her peers. She dove headfirst into her career. Angie wasn’t concerned with the lack of men in her life, largely because she hadn’t met a man in which she was interested, and it wasn’t that the men weren’t interested in her. Angie’s dark brunette hair, slim build and delicate features turned many heads, however after dating a few boys in college Angie realized that she was much happier at home on her own, reading, studying, or watching T.V. It wasn’t that she disliked men, she had met a few genuinely nice boys in college, but no one that she fell head over heels for. None of that mattered because there was something in her life that she cared deeply for. In fact, it’s safe to say that Angie cared more about this one thing then probably anything else.

It was one of the first nights she spent in the apartment she rented after law school, and it was cold. Angie’s furnace wouldn’t stop running, desperately trying to heat her tiny apartment. Angie sat in an old recliner she brought with her from college. She was wrapped in a thick fuzzy blanket when she heard the soft cries on her back porch. Angie opened her door and looked to the right spying a small tabby cat, shivering, and meowing under her shrubs. Angie quickly scooped him up, brought him inside and fell madly in love. She named him Mr. Pickle Paws, but mostly refers to him as Mr. P. Having Mr. P curled up beside her while she finished typing notes for work or watching a crime documentary was the best way to spend an evening as far as Angie was concerned.

Angie checked her watch, 1:08pm. Her grandmother’s executor Dan was eight minutes late. Her grandmother had passed away almost a year ago, that’s when Angie discovered she and a distant cousin were listed in the will. Dan reached out to Angie explaining that he was working through the estate, gathering insurance policies, and sorting through investments her grandmother had at the time of her death. He told her that he would be in touch soon as these items took a long time to work through, especially since the will had multiple beneficiaries. Add in the fact that her cousin one of the beneficiaries, Martha lived in another country, Angie wasn’t sure which, and the entire process had drug on.

“Angie, there you are, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” Dan’s voice flooded the kitchen behind her. “Its’s ok, I was just sitting here admiring the kitchen and it’s classic look.” Angie tried to force a smile.

“Ah yes, your grandmother kept it true to the Tudor style, updating when needed but never deviating from the original look. Dan smiled. “It’s still so sad that she passed, especially so young.”

“She was ninety-eight” Angie couldn’t help but laugh. I think she lived an exceptionally long life.”

Dan looked at her, his smile starting to fade, as an edge of anger flashed into his eyes. “Youth is in the heart, it’s much more than a number.”

Before the tension in the room could get any worse, they were interrupted by the sound of a woman’s high heels clicking against the ceramic floor. They both turned in unison as a beautiful young woman walked in. She wore a white pencil skirt and a white blouse. The only color on her body were the emerald-green stilettos that made her entrance known.

“Martha! Dan cooed. He immediately rose, clasped her hands in his and kissed her on both cheeks.

“Daniel, it’s such a pleasure to see you again.” Martha spoke in a smart British accent. “I just wish it wasn’t under these terrible circumstances.”

Martha looked around the kitchen and started to tear up. “Oh, it’s just like I remember it. This kitchen was her pride and joy, why did she have to leave us so soon?” She looked towards Dan who nodded his head solemnly. She was so young!” Martha wept.

Angie couldn’t believe her ears. So young, were these two mad?

“Um, she was ninety-eight. She didn’t have many health problems; I think she had a wonderfully long life.” Angie said.

Martha and Dan whipped their heads around towards Angie and glared. After what seemed like an eternity Martha’s face relaxed, she extended her hand and said, “You must be Angela”? Angie reached out to shake her hand and noticed Martha’s long white manicured nails. She felt a shiver go down her spine.

“Ladies, please sit.” Dan showed them to a large table with a few white stools placed around it. As the women sat Dan walked over to a tea kettle and poured three cups of steaming tea. He placed them on a serving table with milk and sugar and brought them back to the two women. Angie quickly picked up one of the teacups and started to sip the warm liquid. It was so cold in the kitchen and too late in the evening, she couldn’t bear it.

Angie wished desperately that she were at home with Mr. P curled on her lap. Her sweet boy wasn’t feeling well, and she didn’t like leaving him. Angie flinched at her own thought, not feeling well wasn’t exactly the truth. Mr. P needed an extremely expensive surgery to fix a genetic defect in his small intestine, that he had been born with. There were only two veterinarians that knew how to perform the surgery on a cat, it was a new procedure that had been remarkably successful thus far. One veterinarian was located in New York City and the other in Europe.

Angie had contacted the New York doctor, sending him all of Mr. P’s medical history and past procedures. After looking over the medical file the surgeon told Angie that Mr. P was a perfect candidate for the surgery, and that because of his age he would live many more years as a healthy cat once the intestinal trac was fixed. When the vet told Angie his fee to perform the surgery, she almost fainted. Even with her lawyers salary it was outrageous. Once she added in the travel costs associated with the trip, the expensive medicine he would need to prepare for the surgery and the surgery fee there was no way that she could afford it. As devastated as Angie was, she just didn’t have the money.

“Angela, are you paying attention? “Martha stared at her in disbelief.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, I just was thinking about my cat. He’s at home and he’s sick. I want to get back to him as quickly as I can.

Martha sighed, her disappointment apparent and turned her attention back Dan.

“Daniel, please go on.”

“We are all here today to go over your grandmother’s estate. As you know the two of you are listed as a beneficiary, but you might not know that you both are the only heirs to her estate. He paused taking in a deep breath. Your Grandmother left the two of you everything.

Angie tried to subdue her shock and the smile that was slowly creeping onto her face. Could this really be happening she wondered? Angie felt sad when she learned her grandmother had passed, but in all honesty, she hadn’t known her grandmother very well. Angie’s own mother had distanced herself and Angie from her mother years ago and Angie only remembers one previous time she was in the house that she found herself in now.

To call it a house wasn’t doing it justice. It was in fact a mansion. It was over 15,000 square feet and sat on 5 acres of land. It took Angie twelve billable minutes to walk from the driveway where her car was parked to the kitchen she sat in now. Plus, her grandmother was ninety-eight years old when she died. Compared to Angie’s mom who died of breast cancer at fifty-nine her grandmother had an extraordinary long life.

One of two heir’s how could this be? What did this even mean? Angie was doing well in her career, but she still had her student loans she was paying on, she was living in a tiny apartment and driving a used Mercedes. It was a nice car, but honestly, she had bit off more than she could chew when she purchased it. Although Angie enjoyed staying home in the evenings, it was easy to because she didn’t have the extra money to go out even if she wanted. She had even thought of selling the car when she received Mr. P’s diagnosis, but when she looked at how much she would get for the used car it wasn’t enough to buy another car and pay for the surgery. It wasn’t near enough.

Angie was pulled back into reality when she noticed Martha glaring at her. Angie immediately wiped off any trace of a smile that had made it onto her face. “So, she left us everything, what is the actual amount, and what do you need from us in order to collect it?” Angie asked, her lawyer brain taking over.

“Everything has been evaluated, and if the two of you decide to sell everything in the house, we can get it to auction within the week. I can only guess as it will all be auctioned off but everything except the house itself as has been appraised for 10.2 million dollars.” Dan sighed and looked down. He was obviously distraught and close to Grandmother Angie thought.

“The house is another issue in and of itself.” Both women listened as Dan spoke. Your grandmother loved this house, over the years she hosted many parties and played all sorts of games here. “Dans eyes shot over to the butchers block and back to the ladies. Martha had large tears rolling down her cheeks as she nodded in agreement.

Games, Angie thought. What are these two talking about? And why is Martha nodding along. Had she been invited to the parties and played the games?

“Your grandmother states very clearly that whoever wants to keep the house and live in it will get the house outright and all other items will be split ninety percent to the owner of the house and ten percent to the other beneficiary. Do the two of you understand? Dan asked. This is important, ninety percent will be given to whoever lives in and owns the house while the ten percent will be given to the other person.”

“How, how do we agree on who gets the house and thus the ninety percent of the remaining estate?” Martha finally spoke up after wiping away her tears. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy now.

“Therein lies the final game. If both of you want the house, then you must give up something you cherish greatly. He eyes the butchers block again. Come over here.” The three of them walk over to the butcher block.

“You must pay in flesh and blood.” Dan says matter of fact.

“What, are you talking about? Angie demands. This is insane. What do you mean?”

Dan’s smile returns as he continues.

“You’re sweet grandmother always felt that the generations after her didn’t know anything about sacrifice, and she wasn’t going to just hand over her entire estate to two grandchildren who didn’t work for it. Therefore, she wants flesh and blood from either one of you, or both. Whoever gets the house must give more blood then the other wishes too. You can start with anything at all, a tooth perhaps, or a finger, whatever you like. Cut it off and toss it to the side of the butcher block. You will take turns, back and forth. Whoever gives up first loses the house and walks away with ten percent of the estate, for their troubles. Whoever wins, gets house, as well as ninety percent the estate.”

“I don’t want any part of this, I’m leaving. I don’t care if I only get ten percent, that’s more than enough.” Angie turns to walk away from them both.”

She didn’t need millions of dollars; with her ten percept she would have enough money to save Mr. P. that’s all that she cared about, saving her cat. Now that her mother had passed, he was all she had left.

“Wait! Dan calls to her.

“I need to tell you the terms of the will.”

Angie doesn’t want to listen; she doesn’t want to turn around. But there is something that keeps her in the kitchen. She suddenly thinks of her mom when she was in the hospital bed and her mother’s words come rushing back to her.

“Angie don’t feel bad for me. I had fifty-two wonderful years. I had time to build a family, time to enjoy my job, I traveled and of course I had my wonderful pets.”

What could the term be, what awful thing could Angie’s grandmother have put into her will?

“What is it?” Angie hurdles her words in Dan’s direction.

“Whoever gives up the house and the ninety percent earning, will get the remaining ten percept that they are due. However, if they refuse to play the game, they won’t get it until their seventy fifth birthday. Dan say’s with a twinkle in his eye. What can I say, your grandmother had such a lively soul she didn’t want the money in the hands of someone so young and careless, someone not willing to work for it, not willing to give a little blood for it.”

Angie’s shoulders slump. What was she to do? How could she ever live with herself knowing that she was too scared and selfish not to save her beloved Mr. Pickle Paws. Her cat meant the world to her, and the veterinarian was renowned. He was the best in his field. He assured her that this surgery would save her darling cat and even if it didn’t how could Angie not at least try to save him?

Angie turned her head and for the first time really looked at Martha. Martha was slightly taller than Angie, probably 5’7. She was thin and although she was pretty Angie could tell that it wasn’t a natural beauty. She couldn’t have been much younger then Angie herself, at most twenty-seven or twenty-eight where Angie would turn thirty-one next summer. Martha was pretty, but her look was reminiscent of many women her age. Angie could tell that Martha had already had Botox injections and probably a handful of other procedures. When she cried earlier, she cried real tears, but her expression remained frozen in place. Matha wasn’t thin from the gym like Angie was either, she was the product of good genetics. Angie doubted that Martha every lifted a weight in her life nor would she become overweight as she aged, she wouldn’t have to work in order to keep the pounds off as her frame was small and delicate. In that respect Martha was lucky and would most likely always be thin.

Angie on the other hand was toned and muscular, from the hours she spent at the gym each week. Her muscles had definition thanks to the laps she swam and the hours she slaved away lifting dumbbells over and over again. Angie lost her mother, she lived alone, and she had gone through challenging times in her life. Angie was a survivor; she could win this game. Thinking of her sweet cat Mr. P at home waiting for her to return, Angie’s decision was made. She turned, walking back to Dan and Martha. She picked up one of the knives next to the butcher block and laid her hand down on the surface.

“It’s only a fingernail, I’m willing to give it up.” Angie looked directly into Martha’s eyes as she used the knife to slice off the tip of her left pinky. What about you?