Page 33 of Heir to a Curse
“We could create a contract allocating funds from the profit of the house to the family. Sofia would have liked that.”
“If Sofia had wanted that she would have put it in her will. She spent nearly three years dying from cancer. I can count on one hand how many times herfamilycame to visit her. She gave them plenty in her will despite how they treated her.”
“You do understand that some of our family is interred here,” Mr. Zhao pointed out.
“Sure. When was the last time you visited the shrine? ‘Cause prior to me arriving it looked like it hadn’t been cared for in over a year. How’s that for familial respect? Any of you bothered to look in on Sofia since her passing?” I shook my head. “I’m done here. You’ve had multiple copies of the will provided to you, even tried to file a lawsuit, which your own attorney said was a waste of money. I’m acting out Sofia’s desires as she stated in her will, repairing the home to see if I can make it a viable place for social events as she always wished it would be. Whether or not that happens, your family is no longer involved. You may visit the shrine as often as you’d like, I only ask that you call ahead so the staff can prepare. Especially in this time of illness, where safety is a large concern.” I reached for the door and held it open. “Let me see you out.”
He stood looking stern for another minute before leaving the room. I followed, giving Mr. Yamamoto a little wave. I could be a bastard when I needed to. Sometimes kindness didn’t work. And so far, that seemed to be the case with Mr. Zhao.
“Could I at least send an offer to buy some of the pieces in question?” Mr. Zhao asked as I escorted him to the main door.
“Sure. Doesn’t mean I’ll let you. But at least I’ll know if something goes missing, where it might fly off to.” I opened the main door for him. “Have a nice day, Mr. Zhao.”
He walked out and I had to fight the urge to slam the door behind him. Mr. Yamamoto appeared behind me, obviously having followed us at a slower pace. “I’m glad you were very firm with him.”
“Is this all new?” I asked. “Did he ask Sofia for stuff?”
“No,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “Though I believe his company has taken quite a hit from the pandemic. Perhaps they are desperate for more streams of income.”
“Barking up the wrong tree,” I said, pointing to myself.
Mr. Yamamoto smiled. I could tell by the crinkle of his eyes. “Very true.” He held out a book. “I believe you left this out yesterday when you were in the office. It was on the desk when I came in this morning.”
I frowned at the book, but took it from him. I hadn’t left anything out of place. It was the one that my translator had said something about ducks. “Ducks?”
“Much like Mr. Zhao was stating, this is a book of fairytales. Written by Sofia’s mother actually.”
Well that was news. I flipped it open to reveal a mix of Chinese characters and drawings. “Fairy tales. Like maybe the legend of the curse on the house?”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Yamamoto agreed. “I’m afraid I’ve not read it.”
“Is this the only copy?” I worried that I would tear a page or something.
“It is no longer in print, but I believe there are several digital copies in the local library. Perhaps even a translation. I had forgotten about the novel rights. Sofia’s mother wrote a handful of books. All novels. None that did particularly well. I’ll look into them. See who owns the rights.”
“Sounds good.” I hugged the book to my chest and made a mental note to do a local library search for a translation. “So I assume this book isn’t about ducks?”
“Not that I’m aware.”
“I was using a translation software and it said the title was something like ‘Ducks in the Rain’.”
“Ah, I see. Well it’s a bit of a play on that I suppose, more like the purpose of rain on water. Doesn’t make much sense in English, really. I think it’s more a book of stories to teach children small rights and wrongs. Madison might be better able to explain.”
“I’ll send her a message. Thank you. And if Mr. Zhao returns, let him know I’m busy.” I headed toward the kitchen, a lot of work on the agenda. I wondered briefly if holding on to whatever furniture Mr. Zhao wanted was worth the effort, though his lack of interest in anything really related to Sofia and her life really irked me. What an asshole. She’d been alone a long time. Treated a bit like the black sheep of the family, two marriages with no children, and her sort of outlasting the empire of their family. I thought that sort of made her a boss rather than the pariah her family seemed to pretend she was. The whole “do to others what you’d like done to you”, was sort of how I lived my life. And not in a religious way, more of a moral way.
Sofia had done that. Taken the kid who’d been abandoned his entire life, and pointed him in the direction of what was right. She could have shaped me into a business shark like the rest of her family. Instead she’d pointed me toward taking care of people, and finding joy in the smaller things.
I sent Madison a text and a photo of the book, asking for help in translation, before stuffing it all in my work bag and heading back into the fray. We had cabinets coming tomorrow so that meant everything else needed to be ready. My goal was to complete the kitchen as soon as possible so Montana had a place to cook and Madison had a place to have an announcement about their pending baby. Goals were good things to keep a man motivated.