Birmingham's Millions

June 12, 2015

1032 Pacific Heights

San Fransisco Ca.

94115

To Myles Birmingham,

Congratulations Mr. Birmingham. You don't know me and I you, but as I find myself bedridden as the result of my diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, I seemed to have been thinking of to whom I may bestow my fortune on of late. Of course, I have no immediate relatives or children, as I have always deemed the thought of marriage deplorable, but I find myself currently with no offspring for me to bequeath my belongings to. (Which is my fault really) But it has led me to a crossroads. I worked hard for my money and I really don't want to part with it and I very much don't want to throw it all away to some deplorable charity either. They're all frauds and I know this because I've been to many, the government is one as well. My only choice was to find an heir. So I decided to find my next of kin, which I knew would be difficult to some extent, as I was an only child and both of my parents were and so forth.

I hired my lawyer, a capable young fellow, to do some grave digging, as I know that everybody is related to somebody and he found you, Mr. Myles Birmingham.

I have to say, you have a very British sounding name which, if I may say so, pleased me immensely when I heard it. You see, I was born in Wales and I left for San Francisco with my parents when I was twelve. I've travelled the world and have owned various estates in my life. Six to be exact. I owned a mansion in Los Angeles, a very extravagant cabin of sorts. Two in Manhattan and the Jersey area, penthouses, I believe. One in Turin, a beautiful Mediterranean Mansion, and one in Munich. The sixth being the one I live in now in San Francisco.

Now don't get your hopes up, I've already sold those other estates. I originally wanted to retire permanently to my manor in Munich, as I have always admired the Germanic way of life and how much I appreciate the Europeans, but I also love how quaint the American way is. My Lawyers advised against it in the end for financial security reasons and I didn't fight it. After all my heart will forever belong in San Francisco. I sold my precious "deutshe liebe", and waved auf wiedersehen.

I ultimately decided on San Francisco too, because it is to me, the most European city in the United States. It is alike to the diamond in the rough, there is something in the air that gives one a ghostly, old soul type feeling. I have truly never seen another American city like it, Bravo.

We are coming to the point of my letter soon, Mr. Birmingham, you must forgive me, I may have lived in America for most of my life, but I will never be used to their "directly to the point" way of doing things. I enjoy taking my time and counting the daisies. After all, I am retired.

I must tell you though, how we are related and how it is you who is so lucky to have been born a cousin of mine. The stars really must have been in a favorable line of sorts on the day you were born. I mean to say, I had no idea of your existence nor you of mine and here I am now writing you a letter informing you of your inheritance! It's rather exciting don't you think? I find it wickedly delicious! But back to the relations.

My lawyer found that you are my great grandmother's sister's great-great grandchild. A bit of a mouthful, I don't quite understand the logistics of it either but if you're not sure, I will have left permission for you to do blood work. But yes, we are cousins of some type and we also share a common ancestor as well, Edmond Campion. Fancy that, a Catholic! Mr. Hawkins, my lawyer, climbed that far up the tree.

Now I bet you're wondering if this is even a real letter at all, well in fact it is, and to prove to you of my intentions, exactly two weeks after you receive this, you will be notified by my lawyer with my will and testament and other legitimate whatnot. Haha, so cheers to that, I must say. Pop open some champagne or bourbon. ( I say, bourbon. It is all I drink nowadays since the bed's got me)

But to be perfectly clear I worked very hard for my money, I started in real estate when I turned eighteen and well to put it bluntly, I'm a real estate mogul. I worked my way to the top and when I got there I became a recluse because I didn't like the other people up there. You probably never heard of me as I liked my privacy and stayed clear of the news, but yes my fortune is great and I am bestowing it to you, Mr. Myles Birmingham.

I suggest you get yourself a chair for what I am about to say next.

My net worth is in the hundred millions. I own one mansion, (in San Francisco) and five precious jewelry sets, each estimated at twenty million dollars a piece. Each set includes one necklace, a pair of earrings, one bracelet and one ring. I have one diamond set, one sapphire set, one ruby set, an emerald set and a pearl one. You may do whatever you like with your newly found fortune, anything at all. You may also have my trusted lawyer, Mr. Hawkins, if you'd like, as he is really the only person I have ever trusted.

So, yes, to reiterate what I have informed you, Mr. Birmingham, by the time you have received this letter I will be dead and you will be the sole heir to my fortune that is of the hundreds of millions, my profound jewelry collection, and my San Fransisco Haus. It is really modest compared to what I had in my prime, I apologize. I wanted to get everything in order for the "rookie" before I retired for the long haul, so to speak. I have instructed my lawyer, Mr. Hawkins, to send this letter to you immediately after my death, post haste.

So congratulations are in order, you're a millionaire my boy! ( To be honest I was hoping for a girl, as they are so much more efficient) but you will do just fine! I'm fortunate enough as it is to have found an heir, my sincerest of thanks to Mr. Hawkins. Now I can rest and drink my bourbon in peace knowing I have procured an heir for my things.

Oh, and one more thing if I may. You see, I didn't grow up with money and so when I came into it through my hard work..my blood, sweat and tears, I had a sort of.... appreciation for it. Now don't get me wrong, I know you will greatly appreciate your coming into such a fortunate amount of money, but I am a scrupulous man and so am subject to my scruples. Not that you won't appreciate it, but I have worked with the most vile and heartless of men, and money, power and greed will destroy even the most innocent of natures. In order to make sure that you do not abuse my hard work, that you are worthy, Mr. Birmingham, I have organized my will in such a way that in order for you to receive your inheritance you must first perform four years of charity work in the poorest of conditions and dedicate yourself to the less opportune. And not just any charity, like the fraudulent ones of my kind, but honest, hands on work. Mr. Hawkins has some very nice places in Africa and the Philippines selected. You will be given an allowance enough to survive on and Mr. Hawkins will monitor you monthly. You may use your four years in any way you like, all at once or distributed, but they must be completed in the first ten years of your inheritance.

My second condition, Mr. Birmingham, you will be given two million dollars which must be spent in the first two weeks after my lawyer has had the paperwork in order. I hope you are a clever chap, for you will not be able to donate to a charity, invest, or spend any of it on yourself. This may all sound bizarre and unusual, but I have led a most unusual lifestyle and I prefer to have whatever legacy I had to be honored in such a way. There is method behind this madness.

All the technical conditions are in the will that the lawyer will clarify in two weeks. Do not worry he will come to you. I wish you the best of luck Mr. Birmingham.

Sincerely,

Aloysius Dawson

P.S I really encourage you to seize this opportunity Mr. Birmingham, as it is one that is life changing.

***

Myles held the letter in a steady hand at first but as he finished, the paper he was holding was fairly shaking. He read it again and sat down. He looked around his hot room in a daze. He couldn't understand it. Beads of sweat slunk down his neck. He got up from the creaky chair and walked over to the hostel pantry and grabbed a warm plastic water bottle and chugged it. He glanced at the letter again, still gripping it in his hand and studied the formal, yet eloquent handwriting.

Maybe he was the wrong Myles. He ran back to the bed and grabbed the envelope. Nope, it was posted to the address he was at, at that very moment.

But how could that be? This wasn't even his main address. Myles wasn't even close to home. He sat on the creaky chair and pondered the contents of the letter. If the letter was really true, Myles would be one of the richest twenty year olds on the planet. He sat in contemplation.

The things he would be able to do. Myles leaned back in the chair with his hands behind his head and he closed his eyes. Somehow though, he knew it was true. He was a rich man and he was dumbfounded one at that. But what struck him the most were the conditions that Mr. Dawson had required. It puzzled him. At least the first one. The second he could get done. He could buy a nice car for his dad and a jewelry set for his mom and pay his sister's college tuition off. But the first condition went against all his principles.

He leaned forward in the chair and raised the letter into the golden light shining through the dirty window. Sunset had begun. Myles jumped to the part where Mr. Dawson wrote the condition and he read it over again. He shook his head.

What would everyone think? They'd definitely think he was only doing this for the inheritance. And how could he prove otherwise? This is what he loved. It would look horrific on his part; everyone would think him a hypocrite and a greedy scumbag. He tore the thought from his head.

I will never do this for the money. I'll do it, but I won't accept any of the money until I'm done.

He solemnly swore to himself. He was uneasy, but knew it'd be foolish to reject the offer, if it was even real. He must take it. Moments like these don't drop in your mailbox everyday.

He made his decision and felt confident in it, but felt frighteningly unsure of what was held in store.

The door opened slowly to his small room and Myles jerked his head from the letter. It was Fritz, the German volunteer who stayed in the room across the hall.

Myles smiled nervously, " What's up Fritz."

" Some of the volunteers and I were going to go outside and have a fire if you want. Some of the Frenchies brought beer." Fritz spoke English perfectly with barely even a hint of an accent.

" Oh cool, I'll be down in a minute."

"Ok."

Fritz turned to walk away.

" Hey Fritz,"

Fritz turned.

" Ja"

"What do you think of Munich?"

He gave Myles a funny look, " Munchen? I like it very much, Ja," he paused for a moment, " Why?"

" Oh, nothing. I might go there some day."

" Oh, when?"

" In ten years or so."

Fritz raised his brow a bit and smiled at his odd American friend.

" Well I'm going to have a cold beer now." And he walked out the door.

Myles glanced at his letter again and laid it on the bed.

The last rays of the South African sun penetrated through the window glass shining on the letter. Myles picked up his hat and dusted off the yellow volunteer shirt he was wearing.

He shook his head and shudder ran through his body. He felt like one of those fraudulent charities Mr. Dawson wrote about and felt ashamed.

"Everyone will find out about the letter and call me a scumbag." He thought.

He was no longer doing this out of the goodness of his heart, he was doing it for the money. This went against all his principles and his peer's as well, with every fiber of his being.

His intentions would be seemingly stained by the dirty millions that had been wrought upon him.

Myles squirmed under the thought.

He decided that he wasn't going to worry about it for the present, at least not until the two weeks came. By then he will have prepared himself for this new and uncertain journey that would determine his moral character.

But for now, while life was still simple, he was going to have a cold beer.

He stepped out of his room into the hall.

" Wait up, Fritz!"