Page 2 of Heir to a Curse

“Nothing to be sorry for, Mr. Frank,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “I know the two of you were close. That is one of the reasons I never disputed her changes to her will. She wanted you to have the house. She thought you would finally bring it to the glory it was meant to be.”

“I can repair it, but we both know the history,” I said.

Mr. Yamamoto nodded. “Something always goes wrong. Fire. Water damage, storm damage. It’s why they whisper of ghosts and curses.”

“Or really bad luck. What about the house staff? Are they still staying here? What are they doing about no kitchen? Should I call out for food?” I wasn’t even sure I could. The house wasn’t exactly near the city. Buried in the woods of upstate New York, with only a single, long, winding road, it was meant to be a retreat, first for the family, and later a bed and breakfast for nature lovers and hikers. Neither had happened. Too much unrest. No sooner would construction finish than something else would go wrong, from more property damage, to deaths in the family.

“The apartment over the garage has a working kitchen. It’s a small space, but has been useful. I’ve instructed everyone to keep away from the construction area as much as possible. But two maids, the cook, and their families all still live on the property.”

“I have no plans to change that,” I promised. “I still feel bad. Like she should have given the property to someone in her family. Her cousin wants it. He’s called me a half dozen times. Offered to buy it from me. Though I know the Will stated that was a no.”

“Correct. If you try to sell the property it will revert to a holding. Which means it will just fall into more disrepair. I will speak to her cousin. Remind him of Ms. Yang’s wishes.” He sorted through another batch of paperwork and handed me another few pages with a credit card attached. “This is the property management account and information. The money for repairs will come from this. The card is for ease of purchasing supplies. If you wish to find your own solicitor, I can provide them with account access and information.”

“You don’t want to hang around?” I asked him.

Again the slight uptilt to his eyes, a smile. “If you wish to retain my services, I would be honored.”

“I would.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frank.”

“Thankyou, Mr. Yamamoto. I know you did a lot for Sofia.” I suspected in their elder years there had actually been a few sparks between them. If cancer hadn’t taken her, would they have found the sort of love that she had thought would break her curse? It made me sad to wonder. “She cared a lot about you,” I reminded him.

He nodded, eyes looking a little watery for a second as he gathered himself. “Her urn has arrived.” He pointed to a box on a far table. “I’ll need to take it out to the shrine.”

“Have the weeds been cut back enough to get out there?” It had been years since I’d seen the shrine. While the house looked like an old English mansion, a short path into the woods led to a huge Asian-style shrine set on the edge of a small island in a medium-sized lake. All the land, even the lake belonged to Sofia, or I guess me now, but the shrine had been something of a wonder for years. I’d been there once as a twenty-something to repair a footbridge. As far as I knew the woods around it grew ferociously, and very few ever ventured out that way, despite it being only a short walk from the back of the house.

“No,” Mr. Yamamoto admitted. “I asked the gardener to trim the path so I could get through. He tried. However, he said he heard some disturbing noises and was spooked.”

“Lots of woods out there. Could be anything. Birds, squirrels, bears.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll grab some tools out of my truck to clear a path. I’m pretty sure I remember the layout, though it’s been a few years. Which reminds me. Since we are so far out, I’m going to rent a camper for the guys. As long as you’re okay with me having it parked in the driveway. That way they can come and go as needed while they are working and not bother any of the staff in the house. And I have a dumpster arriving tomorrow for clean-up.”

“Indeed, that sounds fine,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “Will you be staying in the house?”

“Probably? Maybe? I don’t want to be a burden. I know there’s the little cabin out by the shrine too.”

“It’s in disrepair.”

“Funny thing…” I said, smiling and feeling a little lighter knowing there were things I could do, “I’m a contractor.”

Mr. Yamamoto laughed. “Very funny thing,” he agreed. He patted my shoulder. “I am happy you’re here. Ms. Yang was always so happy when you were around. She always said things like ‘That fine young man,’ and ‘he’s such a good boy.’ I know she spoke of officially adopting you for a while.”

“Yeah I talked her out of that. Seemed silly at the time.” Though having grown up in foster care, the idea of having a mom had really touched me. What I didn’t want was her family coming in and claiming I was some sort of gold digger, and spending my life in court. Her naming me heir, and designating the house, grounds, and maintenance accounts already put me on their radar, despite the millions she had going to the rest of the family. However, everything here was done legally years ago, so they couldn’t even claim she wasn’t in her right mind due to cancer when she gifted me the property. “And I’m not much of a ‘boy’ anymore.”

“She still thought of you as her son. Never had one of her own. But always spoke so proudly of you and how hard you worked. She’d say, ‘Did you see that house he did? It was better than the stuff you see on TV.’” Mr. Yamamoto said.

I felt heat flush my cheeks along with the sadness for her passing. “Wow, this is still so raw,” I admitted.

He nodded. “I suspect it will take some time for all of us. She’s only been gone a few weeks.”

“Let me go out to the truck and grab a few tools so I can clean up the path. Let’s at least get her settled in the shrine with the rest of her family.” I clutched the papers to my chest. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Of course. I’ll be in the den working through some of the other paperwork. It’s likely I’ll be here all day. Just let me know when everything is clear.” He waved his hand toward the small door in front of the right stairway. It led to a small library-like den area filled with books and artifacts, and a desk for regular work. “You also have my phone number. Feel free to call any time.”

“Thank you,” I said and headed back to the kitchen to check on my guys. They had donned some gloves and were pulling things apart. “How’s it going in here?”