“Hi, um…I was wondering if you know where Loweson’s Law Offices is located.”
He gives me a friendly smile and nods. “I sure do, ma’am.”
Ma’am? I really am in the South.
“If you walk up this main street for about five blocks, Jack’s office is just on the corner of 5th and Southern, ma’am.”
He said Jack’s name, so that’s a good sign—he’s known as a lawyer, so we are one point for no scam.
“Thank you so much. Have a good day.” I smile and head in that direction.
It’s not a long walk, maybe three minutes or so, before I’m standing outside the exact address and law office stated in the letter. As I step in, a bell rings, notifying the receptionist of my presence.
She’s young, her face buried in some gossip magazine. Looking up, she smiles at me. “Hello! Welcome to Jack Loweson’s office. Can I help you, sweetheart?”
Better than ma’am.
“Um, yes, my name is Hanna Whittington, and I received a letter from Mr. Loweson about my grandfather’s will.”
Her face drops, sadness taking over. “Oh, sweetie, we all loved JD. I’m so very sorry for your loss. We were expecting you to call, but it’s even better you’re here. Let me go see if he’s available.”
Just like that, she scampers off, and I look around. I take notice of all the pictures of what I assume is this small town over the years, going from black-and-white, to sepia, and then full color, new buildings added each time. Her words echo in my mind as I take in the photos. Was my grandpa some kind of small-town royalty? Even though I knew I had to have grandparents at some point, it does feel weird saying it in my head.
“Ms. Whittington?” A male’s voice pulls me from my wayward thoughts. Turning, I’m met with the sight of a man who's about five-foot five, with thick glasses and a sweet smile. There is a hint of sympathy behind his smile, but I don’t call it out. I’m not sure who my grandpa was, so the pain of his loss isn’t hitting me hard, as it seems to be doing to those in this town.
“Hi, Mr. Loweson?”
“Please, call me Jack. Come on back. It’s so good to see you.” He glances at my suitcase but doesn’t address it, thank God. I don’t think there is enough time to get into that baggage. Literally. “I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances. Your grandfather was a wonderful man. I’m greatly sorry for your loss.”
He stumbles at the tail-end of his apology. He must know I never knew who my grandfather was. Though Jack seems filled with pity, he’s probably trying to imagine how I feel. All these years, I’ve felt lost and like I had no one. Now, I find out there was a grandfather out here, one who loved me enough to leave me his belongings in his passing.
Trauma. More trauma to load onto my already packed shoulders.
“Thank you. If I’m being honest, I don’t know why he would leave me anything. I didn’t know him.” Mumbling the last part, I look out the window for a moment before continuing. “I didn’t even know he existed. My parents left me and took everything with them, including family history.” I don’t need Jack thinking I’m some sort of entitled brat who made the choice to not be in my grandfather’s life. Especially with the way he speaks so highly of the man he seems to have been.
“I understand. There is no need to explain yourself.” When I choose not to respond, he picks up on my cue and continues. “We are going to go over the monies and property that were left to you in his will first, and then we will sign all legal documents. You can ask me any questions you have. Do you have a lawyer you would like present?”
I shake my head. I barely have two pennies to rub together, let alone enough to afford a lawyer.
“There isn’t anything here that I believe you would need to have counseling for, but I always ask, and I can also act as your lawyer, seeing as I was JD’s.” His warm smile invites one onto my face.
“Thank you, Jack.”
We carry on. The entire time he’s speaking, my mind is whirling. I’m overwhelmed, to say the least.
“He left you his home and acreage along with his two dogs.”
“Dogs?” I want to curse myself. Finding out about the million dollars he left, the land and estate, didn’t get me speaking, but dogs? Maybe I should plead insanity and just leave.
“Yes, his two Great Danes.” He smiles, no doubt reading me like an open book.
“Oh, names?”
“Dorothy and Clyde.”
“Adorable.”
When I say nothing more, he continues, ignoring my lapse in sanity. He must be a really good lawyer to pick up so well on awkward exchanges. Hours later, we are finally at the end of the meeting.