Page 32 of Heir to a Curse

Chapter 12

By midmorning the kitchen was well on its way to looking like a kitchen. Floors laid, walls painted, and the cabinets would be delivered tomorrow. I’d taken the appliance delivery for the cabin, and tried not to be too grumpy with the guys when my brain seemed to only be awake in fits and starts.

My phone kept ringing, and I let it all go to voicemail since I was working. Apparently they would not be denied because Mr. Yamamoto appeared in the kitchen doorway followed by a man I only knew because of our many arguments.

“Mr. Zhao,” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“I’ve already reaffirmed the property arrangements with him,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “He’s well aware of Sofia’s wishes.”

“Fabulous,” I said, my tone a little clipped. “What can I do for you, Mr. Zhao?”

He looked around the room, as though examining the work we were doing. Dressed in a suit and probably in his sixties, I wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced a direct sort of contact labor like this. He was some sort of investment banker as far as I was aware. Had come from money, and had the mindset to go with it.

“Mr. Zhao?” I prompted again, waving Mr. Yamamoto off. I’d see the man out if I had to. Sofia’s cousin or not, he had no legal rights to the property.

“Mr. Frank,” Mr. Zhao began, “If I might have a bit of your time.”

I couldn’t contain the sigh. “You know I can’t give you or sell you the property. Any attempt to do so would have it forced into trust and converted into a local museum owned by the county and with the same conditions they aren’t allowed to sell or gift it away.”

“I’m well aware of the terms of Sofia’s will. She apparently thought you were the best fit for the house despite not being family.”

That stung. Sofia had been family, even if it hadn’t been due to a blood bond. “So what do you want?”

“There are some artifacts in the house that she did not add to her will, which I would like to discuss with you.”

“You’re better off discussing those sorts of things with Mr. Yamamoto. Anything Sofia didn’t specify stays where it is. Her will was like fifty pages long, item after item given to whomever. I disputed none of that.” I tugged my dust mask off and switched it to one of the more social ones as I motioned to the doorway. “Let’s go to her office and you can tell me what you really need.”

He allowed me to lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the office/library. Mr. Yamamoto raised a brow in my direction when we entered, but donned his mask. Safety first was my motto, I was glad everyone was on board with it.

“There are a handful of pieces in the house that have some historical significance,” Mr. Zhao began.

“Okay,” I agreed, not willing to argue. “Like that wedding dress?” I pointed to the big glass case.

“That was Sofia’s dress from her first wedding. Very traditional, but hardly a museum quality piece,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “Since she had no children to gift it to, she thought it better to leave it here.”

“I don’t want the dress,” Mr. Zhao stated. “Her first marriage should have wielded children, but since it didn’t, it’s fine to remain, though it could probably yield funds if it were broken down, or even resold to someone looking for a traditional Han style wedding dress. I’m more interested in several pieces of furniture.”

“No,” I said, not even considering it. “I’m not stripping the house just to make you happy. I know for a fact that Sofia was quite generous with what she gave you in her will. What you see around you is what she gave me. The house, everything inside it, and the land, with enough of an investment account to care for it. Despite all the issues of the house, she loved it here. And I will not see it stripped of all the things she enjoyed.”

“There is furniture in this house that should be in a museum,” Mr. Zhao said.

I shrugged. “Your point is? Nothing is being used at the moment. Apparently due to some family curse of yours.”

“Children’s stories,” Mr. Zhao said, obviously dismissing the curse.

“Except that there are fifty years of events that say the house is cursed with misfortune. Are those all children’s stories? I assure you; they are real events. I’ve repaired things in the past twenty years that came from those incidents.” I folded my arms across my chest.

“Carelessness,” Mr. Zhao said.

“Right. Over fifty years of people doing stupid things in one house? I’ve remodeled homes almost two hundred years old with less trouble than this one. Doesn’t matter anyway, the house and everything in it remains.”

He let out a long sigh. “You are missing out on the potential here, Mr. Frank. You could be making millions with this home.”

“I know all about real estate investment, Mr. Zhao. I may not look it, but I have a million-dollar portfolio. Working in construction doesn’t mean that I’m begging in the streets, it just means I have a real job rather than taking people’s hard-earned money from rent as my living. It’s why during this pandemic I’m still fine, even letting people freeze or skip rent. It’s called being prepared to do more than milk people for money. It’s something Sofia insisted I understand very early in life. Money might be able to provide castles and fancy cars, but it doesn’t bring happiness or peace. I sleep better knowing I’m one of the good guys instead of the sort of shark you seem to want me to be.”

“It’s a mistake to blow off the income potential,” Mr. Zhao continued.

I waved a hand in the air. “Who says I’m blowing it off? My view of the situation may not be the same, but I don’t need your help either way.”