by S A Jacobs
“Okay, sir. Can I have your name?”
“Jim Bauer.”
I could hear her rapidly typing on a keyboard and then nothing, silence. When she spoke again her cheeriness was replaced with seriousness.
“Mr. Bauer. I do apologize for the delay. I will put you right through to Edward Lutz, our partner.”
Then I was put on hold and forced to listen to some crappy instrumental version of Seal’s ‘Kiss from a Rose.’ A few moments later, the call went through.
“Mr. Bauer, how nice it is to finally hear from you!” said a distinguished voice. “This is Edward Lutz. I am personally handling all these affairs. I trust you received our paperwork?”
“Yeah, I got it all. I’m just not sure what I am supposed to do with it.”
“Oh sir, there is nothing to worry about. You are named as the beneficiary in Ida Mansfeld Muller’s will, as outlined in the paperwork. All you need to do is set up an appointment to come to my office. You will meet with the executor and me, and we can finalize everything,”
“Um okay. But I still don’t understand why I’m a part of this. I’ve never even heard of this woman.”
“Unfortunately, all I can share with you now is what’s in the paperwork you already have. We can go through the specifics when we meet, and I will be happy to address any other questions you have. When would be a good time?”
“Well, I don’t know when I’ll be able to get some time away from work to come to your offices.”
“That is not a problem. These affairs are the top priority for the firm right now, and we will be more than happy to accommodate your schedule. How does Friday evening sound? Say seven PM.?”
I was trying to think of a reason I couldn’t make it. But who was I kidding, I had nothing on my personal calendar, and this thing had gotten me very intrigued.
“Sure, that sounds fine,” I conceded. “I’ll be there,”
“Great. I will have dinner ordered in for us and have my secretary send out an invitation with the details.”
“Okay, sounds good,” I replied timidly.
“I cannot wait to meet you in person, Mr. Bauer. If there is anything at all you need in the meantime, please do not hesitate to contact me.”
I hung up and looked at Paul.
“Strange, yes” he said. “But it still doesn’t sound like a scam.”
I slowed my beat-up truck to a crawl. The sun was blinding on this unseasonably hot day. I passed giant house after giant house that looked like they were all bought out of some catalog for the wealthy. Each massive house had similar long driveways paved with mock cobblestones edged by meticulously manicured lawns with intermittent old growth trees. Some might call them mansions based on size alone, but for me the term didn’t quite fit. These houses lacked particular qualities I thought necessary for true mansions. There were no massive grounds or courtyards. There were no guesthouses. These were just obscenely large houses built one after another in subdivided lots. A community for the new elite.
I was certainly a stranger in a strange land. This was truly the last neighborhood I would have expected to be driving through. The entire area made me feel like an outsider. I felt like the stereotypical burnout punk kid wandering into an elite country club. I saw no one, yet I could almost feel the homeowners peeking through the blinds. I looked around in all directions, half-expecting to see a squad car with lights flashing racing up behind me.
“No,” I muttered to myself. “I have every right to be here,”
It did nothing to squash my fear, but rather fed into them. It was not that I didn’t expect someone to stop me; it was a mere realization that if I were stopped, I had a good excuse to be here. I scanned the street in front of me.
I picked up my phone and glanced at the GPS. Realizing I had a few more blocks to go, I stepped on the gas, deciding to get there as quickly as possible. The old truck roared to life. I cursed its exhaust issue, which caused a terribly loud rattle every time the truck accelerated. Typically, I didn’t mind. Right now, I felt as though it did nothing but draw more attention to my presence.
As I continued to drive, the landscape began to change. On the next block, instead of repeated rows of homes, there were only a few followed by a stretch of cleaned lots. I could only assume these plots of land were just waiting for the next mini-mansion to pop up. The street curved right.
As I headed down the street, I could feel the change in the pavement under my truck. The smooth new concrete had given way to a much older and less cared for stretch of blacktop littered with cracks and potholes. The road stretched on for what felt like blocks. There were no houses here. It looked more like a path through a forest preserve than a neighborhood. Both sides of the road were lined with large old growth trees that clearly hadn’t been trimmed in years. Wild shrubbery made the forest behind appear impenetrable.
I continued until the road came to an end. There was a large blacktop circle, allowing cars to turn around. As I slowed into the circle, the voice on my phone loudly proclaimed, “You have arrived.”
I pulled the truck over to the edge of the blacktop and put it in park. Rolling down the window, I let the summer breeze roll over me. I sat there for a few minutes just looking at my surroundings, assuming this was, as I had guessed, a waste of my time. I picked up the manila envelope from the passenger seat and pulled out the papers. I looked again at the paper Paul had printed for me and compared that to the address on my GPS. “Well, at least according to Google, this is it.”
I opened the door and stepped out of the truck. I looked everywhere for some sign of a residence. I spotted an occasional weathered wooden sign nailed to various trees, which surely at one point held a bright orange “NO TRESPASSING” message. I started to walk around the far edge of the circle. I was looking for anything. Something to confirm that this was real and not a stupid scam I’d fallen prey to. Then, I saw it.
Hidden behind the weeds and brush, I could see a concrete slab jutting out. All I could make out was a distinct corner. I walked up to it to get a better look. It was about five feet long lying on its side. From a couple feet away, I knew exactly what this was.
Years before, it must have stood proudly. It was part of an identical pair marking the grand entrance to this property. As I looked ahead, I could see remnants of a rusted chain half-buried in the ground, leading to the piece of concrete. I knew I had found the drive. This was the entrance, although it was clear that it had been years since anyone had used it.
I stood in what I believed to be the center of the aged drive. Now I could see it. The old growth trees stood taller than everything else, and they were all in a neat row like soldiers lined up along the path. I took a deep breath. I had just started to find a way through the weeds when I heard the familiar beeping of my phone.
“Dammit,” I muttered.
I quickly retreated to my truck to look at my phone. Just as I’d expected, it was a message from work. I glanced at the time and quickly realized why. My lunch hour was over. I hadn’t thought this would take so long. Annoyed with myself, I jumped in my truck and fastened the seatbelt. I drove out the way I came.
The days leading up to my meeting with the lawyer were pretty much a blur. I worked as usual, and much of my downtime was spent baffled, trying to figure out what it was all about. I considered calling my mom countless times, but decided that I didn’t know anything myself, so, a call to my mom would just end with a lecture on scams, which she often fell prey to. I could think of a thousand things I would rather do.
I wanted so badly to find the connection to me, but I couldn’t. I even signed up for ancestry.com to see if I could find some branch of my family tree that may have lived there. At every turn, I ended up with nothing. Rather than tire myself trying to understand it, I decided to see what I could find out about this property that Paul was convinced I would be receiving.
I Googled the address. It gave me nothing of value. Sure, there were a bunch of realty sites that came up, but upon
clicking on them, I was only getting information on the other houses in the neighborhood. From the looks of it, they were all those new mansions I drove by. They all were valued at over $2 million. “Well, I guess at the very least the property is worth something,” I said to myself.
Google Maps offered no help either. Sure, I could see exactly what I saw from my truck that day but not much else. On the satellite view, I couldn’t tell if there was a house on the property. It looked like it was nothing but forest. The only sign of structure I did find was something small breaking out of the trees on the shore of Lake Michigan. It looked like it might be a dock. None of it was helpful at all.
Just before I gave up to trade in my laptop for another beer, a search result caught my eye. It simply read “Muller Home – Illinois”. The website was one of those haunting directories that list all the haunted places in the country. When I clicked on it, there was again hardly anything of value. It was a post in their message boards reading:
‘Muller Home – Illinois
‘Hey! does anyone have info on this house? The big old Muller house on Lake Michigan. Growing up, I heard a ton of crazy ghost stories about it and would love to know if anyone had any experiences there.’
Following that, was a link back to my Google Maps satellite image.
“So there is a house, or at least there was. And apparently it’s haunted.” Defeated, I shut the laptop. It was time to try and get some sleep. Tomorrow was my day to find out everything.
The next day was filled with anxiety. Going to the lawyer was already out of my comfort zone. The fact that it was for some inheritance no one could explain made it even worse.
The address was of a gorgeous high-rise building right on the Chicago River. I stepped out of the downtown parking garage ten minutes before my meeting was set to begin. The sun was beginning its decline and cast a blend of blinding light and immense shadows across the city. I stood on the riverfront sidewalk, staying close to the edge overlooking the river to remain out of the way of the massive influx of speed-walking commuters. I stood there for a minute and just observed the city. Looking at it from this perspective, I felt a certain disappointment in myself. I mean here I was, 25 years old. I had spent my life within thirty miles of this gorgeous city and could pretty much count on one hand how many times I’d come downtown. I shook it off as I did most of the derailing thoughts I’d been having ever since my birthday.
After a few minutes, I made my way across the street and into the lobby of the high-rise. I was expecting to find a simple directory board telling me where to go but instead found security. The paths out of the lobby were all locked down with electric security gates. I walked up to the front desk. After fielding a bunch of questions about who I was and who I was seeing, I was finally issued my badge. After hesitating a moment, I swiped my badge as instructed. This unlocked the gate between me and the elevator bank. It also signaled the elevator to take me to the proper floor. It was a tad unnerving to enter an elevator with no buttons, only traveling where your badge signaled it to go.
I stepped out of the elevator and into a gorgeous lobby. Apparently, this law firm took up the entire floor of the building. I walked up to the large mahogany desk placed under a huge golden logo of the firm. A woman stood up and greeted me warmly.
“Mr. Bauer, correct?” she smiled while extending her hand to me.
“That’s me.” I smiled as I shook her hand.
“Right this way, sir. Mr. Lutz is expecting you.”
Quickly, I followed her through what felt like a maze of cubicles. At the very end was a wall of large wooden doors. She led me to one set of double doors and stopped. She knocked on the door and then opened it just enough to peek her head inside.
“Mr. Lutz, Mr. Bauer is here,” I heard her whisper.
A moment later, she opened the door and led me into Mr. Lutz’s office.
The office was massive. On the opposite wall of the door, huge windows overlooked the river and northern skyline. There was a large conference table. Each seat was set up with a leather placemat and ornate lamps. On the opposite side was the more formal office. It was surrounded by carved wooden bookcases, which ran from the floor to the ceiling. In front of the bookcases was Mr. Lutz’s desk, carved to match the bookcases precisely. Behind the desk was Mr. Lutz. He appeared to be meeting with a woman who was seated in front of his desk.
He was an older gentleman. Thin with perfectly manicured gray hair. He stood up as I entered and gracefully buttoned the top button on his three-piece suit. I couldn’t help but notice how everything, including his dress, was the image of perfection. Down to the handkerchief in his breast pocket, probably made from the same fabric as his tie.
Mr. Lutz quickly made his way over to me and extended his hand.
“Mr. Bauer, what a pleasure it is to finally meet,” he said while shaking my hand. “Please come and have a seat.” He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.
I walked over to the chairs and sat beside the woman. Mr. Lutz quickly shut the door and walked back over to his desk. The woman was an image of stark contrast to Mr. Lutz and his opulence. She appeared to be at least close to me in age. She was wearing jeans and a red short sleeved sweater. She had long wavy blond hair and incredible blue eyes. She looked over at me with a soft smile.
“Forgive me, Mr. Bauer,” he said. “This is Ms. Katherine Schmidt. She will be standing in this evening as executor of the will.”
“Standing in?” I questioned, extending my hand to shake hers. “Are you a relative of…”
“Sorry, I’m afraid her mother, the named executor, has fallen ill and is unable to make it here this evening,” Lutz interrupted.
She tilted her head appearing to be annoyed by this interruption and then smiled back at me playfully.
“Yes, my mother is the named executor... as Mr. Lutz was so kind to point out,” she said with a sarcastic grin. “I’m very glad to finally meet you.”
She reached to shake my hand. Her eyes looked me over as her soft hand took mine. She was bold. This was certainly a turn on, especially in that stuffy office. I immediately felt comfortable with her.
“So where do we begin?” I asked returning my attention to Mr. Lutz.
“Well, I have arranged for dinner to arrive shortly. Why don’t we take these moments to present the will itself, and then we can discuss anything else about this unique case while we eat.”
He shifted in his chair behind the desk and retrieved a thick legal folder. He handed it to me as he took out copies of some documents. He put on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
“Normally, we don’t read formally read wills. Considering the circumstances of this particular will though, I thought it would be in our best interest if I read for you.”
2
“The last will and testament of Ida Dorthea Mansfeld Muller, hereafter called the testator, deceased Aug 25, 1932,” he started. “Let us skip the other bequests and come to the part dealing with your inheritance.” He shuffled a couple of pages. “Here it is. The inheritance is in three sections.
“First, upon acceptance of this will, the beneficiary shall inherit the property at 495 Muller St., Lake Forest, IL under the following stipulations. The property must be held in the beneficiary’s possession for a minimum of one year. After meeting this criterion to the satisfaction of the acting executor, the beneficiary can then relinquish ownership in whatever manner they see fit.
“Second, the final balance of the testator’s trust fund shall be bequeathed to the beneficiary under the following stipulations. Only ten percent of the final value of the fund can be used for personal expenses. The remaining ninety is reserved for the renovation of the property. Should the property be restored to satisfactory living conditions, in accordance with local laws, the remaining balance of the fund shall be bequeathed to the beneficiary to enjoy in whatever manner they see fit.
“Third, you will inherit the contents of one envelope, sealed by the testator. This is to be
presented by the executor of the will, with the family seal intact.”
He set the papers down and looked over at Katherine and then back to me.
A sharp pang of concern rose in my gut. As real as this was all becoming, I didn’t know what any of it meant. There were so many unanswered questions, especially why. The fact was, this was a very real inheritance, and it most certainly was for me.
I could see Lutz’s eyes narrow as he looked at me, awaiting a response of some kind. I took a deep breath and said the only words that came to mind.
“What does this all mean in real English?”
He took off his glasses and a smug smile appeared on his face.
“Well, Mr. Bauer, it means you have just become a very wealthy man,” he said.
He turned to the phone on his desk, hit an intercom button, and requested that champagne be brought in. My head was spinning.
“Wait! What do you mean I am a wealthy man?”
“We will get to the real numbers shortly but let me just say the trust fund alone is no small amount of money, not to mention the value of the property you just inherited.”
“But why me? I don’t know of any relation to this Ida!”
“I understand. I assure you we will discuss the peculiar nature of this will over dinner, but first let us take a moment to celebrate this.”
Just then, the door to his office opened, and a man wearing a tuxedo walked in pushing a silver cart. On the cart were glasses and a bottle of champagne. The man began pouring the champagne and passed it out to the three of us.
“Mr. Lutz, do you celebrate all of these meetings with champagne?” I asked.
“Oh, heavens no!” He gave me a discerning look. “But this is a special occasion. How often does a law firm get to bring closure to an open probate case that is almost a century old? In fact, this will was one of the first cases this firm ever took on. Selfishly speaking, it is incredibly satisfying to finally bring it to a close.”
