by Mila Young
"Hello?" a male’s voice asked.
I blinked, realizing that I'd answered the phone and not said a word since.
"Uh... hi," I answered. "Who is this?"
"My name is Alfred Batten, with Brians, Whitfield, and Rosenstein. Am I correct in assuming that I am currently speaking to Ms. Nilsa Kane?"
"I... yeah." A few seconds were all I needed to make sense of what he was talking about. "The... uh, legal firm?"
"The very same. I am, however, calling you on behalf of your maternal aunt, Moira Cloris."
The name was familiar. I remembered my mom talking about her long-lost sister that had left the country after they’d had a couple of disagreements that could not be worked out. She had never told me what the nature of those disagreements were, but I did remember that Aunt Moira always did send me presents for Christmas.
"Right," I grunted, sitting down on my bed. "How is she?"
"Oh... I'm sorry, I've never been much good at delivering bad news. I am devastated to tell you that Moira Cloris has since passed away. A coronary. I'm so terribly sorry, I was under the assumption that you already knew."
Chances were my mom had tried to call me, but I'd blocked her number a couple of years ago. We'd had a fight—the exact nature of which was escaping me—and I realized that she was a toxic influence on my life, and I cut her out.
"Well, I'm not really on speaking terms with my mother's side of the family," I answered, honestly. "That's not to say that I'm not... well, it is a... I'm sorry, I don't know what to say."
"I understand completely, Ms. Kane. I am merely calling you due to the fact that your aunt enlisted the services of my firm to act as the executors of her will provided that she passed away, and she did leave you a portion of her estate. I am afraid that I'll need you to come into our offices on 510 Madison Ave, on the sixth floor. I just need to schedule an appointment for you. Would today work for you?"
"No, I have to..." What exactly did I have to do today? No work to get to, nothing really lined up to replace it. I would be putting a little more on my blog later on in the day, but that wasn't really calling my attention at the moment. "What time works for you?"
"How do you feel about one hour from now? I come back from my lunch break by then. We can meet then."
"Sounds good. I'll see you then, Mr... Batten, right?"
"That is correct, Ms. Kane."
I hung up, looking around the room again before starting to get ready. A shower was the first thing on my mind, something quick to calm myself down. I hurried into the bathroom, washed and dressed. Hearing that Aunt Moira had passed away was about the worst news that I'd gotten all week, and that bar had already been set high. I hardly knew her but I felt like I should be more upset at not taking more time to reach out to her. After the big argument with my mom, I decided to cut out the whole family. Now some of that regret swirled in my gut.
As I stepped out of my bathroom, I froze in place suddenly, hearing someone groaning in my living room. I knew that I hadn't gone to bed with anyone, and had no memories of anyone I'd brought home.
A head jerked up from my sofa, with a mess of hair and smudged makeup staring me down through confused eyes.
"Who's being loud?" Kels whispered, rubbing her temples.
"I am," I answered, looking around for my keys. "I'm... sorry. It's just that I got some really bad news and I need to have a chat with a lawyer."
"Oh." Kels straightened up, shaking her head. "Sorry. What happened?"
"Uh... My aunt died, and she left me something. Or her lawyer needs me to sign something. I'm not sure. Anyways, I’ve got to go. Are you going to stay here for the day?" This wasn’t the first time she slept over after going out late at night or we had a girls’ night in.
Kels shook her head. "I don't know. I think so. Do you have like... lots and lots of bacon?"
"Why?"
"You need bacon to get rid of a hangover."
I shook my head. "No, you just need to take an aspirin and get yourself hydrated again. All that extra grease is just bullshit."
She ran a hand through her hair, fingers getting caught in her knots. "No, it's not, I swear to God. I've been using it since we were in college."
"That's what you call a placebo. You just feel better after eating a shit-ton of bacon."
Kels tilted her head. "I mean... isn't that the point?"
I paused and finally shook my head. "I... I guess. Anyways, I have to go. If you need to leave before I get back, just lock up after yourself, okay?"
"Yeah, sure. You sure you're okay?"
It took a bit of work, but I finally found my keys, tucking them into my purse.
"Yeah. I'll just need to get myself back in the mindset."
"Losing your job, and now your aunt... I mean."
"I know." I nodded, reaching the door and looking back to Kels as she lay back on the couch. "I'll handle it."
The door closed behind me, and I took a deep breath before locking it.
"I always do," I breathed, stepping away from the door and heading toward the elevator.
It was a quick trip into Manhattan to get to the lawyers’ offices. The firm was not a small one, and it was bustling with activity. The secretary that was told to wait for me was already handling three other meetings.
"I'm sorry," she called over the sound of ringing phones. "This is when everyone's coming back from their lunch breaks, so that's when everyone's calling to talk with people. Let's just get you moving. Mr. Batten's office is just around the corner. He's already in there, so you just knock, and he'll let you in."
A lawyer at a firm like this usually had a secretary, although maybe not the ones dealing with small-time inheritance issues. The fact that he had an office and not a cubicle was also interesting, but I wasn't going to put too much time and thought into it.
I tapped on the glass door softly. Too softly. I was about to knock again with a bit more emphasis when a deep voice erupted from inside.
"Come in!"
Pushing the door open, I found myself in a cramped office, filled from wall to wall with bookshelves, leaving only space for a small window looking out into the street, casting a little light into the room.
Batten himself looked like he had been behind a desk for a little too long. He might have been in his thirties, although it was really difficult to put any kind of actual number to it. His skin was tanned, like he'd just come back from a beach vacation, and his hair was neatly slicked back, showing the perfect mix of salt and pepper. His warm brown eyes were covered by a pair of thick glasses, and he smiled when he saw me, displaying a perfect row of pearly whites.
"Ms. Kane, of course." He motioned for me to take a seat in one of the chairs across the desk from him. "I'm sorry, things have been a little hectic around here, and this place is a little messy. I really do appreciate you being able to come in on such short notice. Your aunt retained the services of my firm to execute her final will and testament. There were a handful of other items that needed to be passed on, but the entirety of her vineyard in Transylvania was left to you."
I blinked a few times, wondering if the man was joking. "I'm sorry, did you say... her vineyard?"
"Yes."
"In Transylvania?"
He narrowed his eyes at me, letting me come to terms with it all at my own pace.
"The Transylvania?"
"If you mean the location most well-known for its involvement in popular culture, yes, that Transylvania. But it’s in a remote area some call Fiend’s Peak." He pulled a handful of papers from his desk. "It's lovely country out there. I do really recommend a visit, if you're interested. You should know that the estate passed on to you includes the resources required to purchase passage to and from the location, should you wish it."
"I'm not... why would I want a vineyard in... where even is it?"
"Romania," Batten reminded me, putting the papers in front of me. "You will need to visit the location in person to take ownership. Failure to do so
after three months will see the estate passed off to the local government."
I shook my head, taking in a deep breath. The headache was still there, throbbing in the back of my consciousness, putting a foul taste in my mouth. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with something like that in the first place."
"You could always sell it. Although, again, if you were to take ownership, you would have to visit the location in person."
"This is just... so bizarre," I whispered, leaning back in my seat, completely lost for words.
"I imagine that it must be quite a bit for you to take in all at once. I most heartily recommend that you take a few days to think your decision over. I would appreciate a call from you once you make your mind up so we can move the paperwork along, one way or the other."
It was a little much, and I was barely aware that he was putting the papers into a file and handing it to me. Then I was saying goodbye and being ushered out of the office and back into the bustle and activity of the firm.
I needed to get back home. A drink felt like the right idea, but just the thought of it made my stomach revolt. Maybe some fast food instead.
What just happened?
My mind was churning.
I needed to consider and digest everything that had happened to me in the past forty-eight hours. Once that was done, I would be able to put something out that wasn't complete and utter trash. There was no point in telling people about what was happening with my life if I didn't know what was happening myself, right?
Staring up at the ceiling felt like it was going to be my night. Kels had left by the time I got back, although she had been nice enough to refill the bacon that she'd used, along with restocking the fridge with a few items that she thought I'd need.
I left her a message thanking her for the effort, even though I wasn't even sure if I would be in town long enough to use the stuff. Maybe I would need her to come over while I was halfway across the world to make sure that the food in my fridge didn't go bad.
"Right," I snorted to myself. "Like I need to head all the way to Romania to know that I'm not cut out to own a goddamn vineyard."
I knew that something was wrong almost before it actually registered consciously. My whole body went tense, and I was reaching out and gathering power into my body, the way that it did when I was expecting to need it.
After a few seconds, I straightened up in my bed, looking over to the corner of the room where the lights of my bedside lamp failed to reach. Something was in the shadows, and I could feel a tingling in my fingers as the power coalesced there, ready to be used.
It moved again, but this time it stepped out into the light, letting me see what it was. A chill raced down my spine.
Or in this case, who.
It had been a long time—literal decades —but there was no mistaking the lean look of the woman stepping out to the foot of my bed.
"Aunt Moira?" I’d only seen her in the flesh when I was younger.
She smiled, showing an array of new wrinkles across her weathered face as she flicked her black hair out of her eyes. "It makes me happy to know that you still recognize me."
I shrugged. "I mean... I have spent some time looking at old pictures of you lately, so it's not really that impressive."
She smiled, sitting at the foot of the bed as I moved in closer to her.
"The lawyer said that you..." I couldn't bring myself to finish that sentence. "Are you...?"
After a moment of thought, she nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so, dearie."
Looking around the room brought another thought to my mind. "So does that mean that you're a..."
"A dream, yes."
"I was going to say that you were a ghost, but okay. You can be both, right?"
She looked a little nonplussed, but finally tilted her head and smiled again. "I suppose so. Whatever I happen to be, it is good to see you, dearie."
I moved over to the edge of the bed with her. "Are you... are you all right? Do you need me to call up some of mom's ghost specialists? I mean, they're technically necromancers, but the legal kind, so I've stayed in touch."
"No, this is nothing like that, dearie. All I came to say was that my house should go to you."
"The one in Vampiresville, Romania?"
That brought a laugh out of her. "I've never really heard it described that way, but yes. It can't leave the family. You must claim it and make sure."
"Can't Mom go there?"
"She refused to have any part in what I left behind."
I nodded slowly. "That... does sound like dear old Mom. Okay, I'll... I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises. I have a life here in New York."
"That is all I can ask for." She leaned into me, and I couldn't help but reach out and wrap her up in a hug.
"I've missed you, Auntie," I whispered.
"I missed you too, Nessie."
Chapter 3
candiestkane.blogspot.com
Hi guys, it's the sweetest witch again.
I'm sorry that I've been a little lax with the updates, but things have been a little hectic on my end. I'll try to get back to my regular blogging schedule, but I can't make any promises.
Anyways, I thought that I'd drop a bit of news on you guys. Transylvania (yes, that Transylvania) is actually a pretty gorgeous little spot of the world. Picking up on some pictures online, I'm really not sure how they managed to avoid the march of modernity out there, but they have been doing a pretty good job of things. I'm not really expecting to see anything straight out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but hey, if Tim Curry were to show up looking absolutely fabulous, rocking the fishnets, I would not complain one bit.
Why am I talking about Tim Curry and Transylvania, you ask? Well, as it turns out, a long lost aunt that I haven't spoken to in seventeen years died and left me her vineyard. I know, what does the sweetest blogging witch know about making wine? Absolutely nothing, but I thought that it would be interesting to connect with family out there.
I'll keep you guys in the know on what's going on, but it's got to be a short one for me. I've got a flight to catch.
Until then, lots of hugs,
The Candiest Kane around.
I'd never flown business class before, and I had to say that I could get used to it. I'd always associated traveling as a cramped and stuffy affair that needed to be tolerated by all the people that were heading anywhere beyond their hometown.
Sure, I was still stuffed into a flying metal cylinder, but it was certainly a plus if I was given adequate leg room and a three-course meal on the overnight flight.
I had no idea where Aunt Moira had come up with the kind of money that it took to buy business class tickets, but if that had anything to do with her owning a vineyard in Romania, it could end up making things a little more palatable.
There were no strings attached, of course. I knew absolutely nothing about owning a vineyard. I had a feeling that the place likely had some caretakers that would not appreciate some random gringo chick showing up and telling them how to do their jobs.
At worst, I could just sell the place and head back to New York after a short vacation.
The flight out of JFK landed in Paris first, and after a short layover, there was another hop of a flight over to the Transylvania International Airport, in Târgu Mureș, a name of which I had no chance of pronouncing correctly.
It was interesting, I had to admit. I'd never felt relaxed and rested after a long flight. Maybe there was something to this whole 'traveling in style' thing after all.
There was a rental car already waiting for me at the airport—also a new feeling—and I climbed in, putting myself in the driver seat. The place was almost straight out of a medieval fantasy book, even with the airport behind me. There were rolling hills with forests over them, all merging together with small farms that seemed to smoothly connect with a small baroque looking city that was spreading out from the airport. But I left all that behind me and soon drove on a quiet road surrounded on
ly by beech and oak trees. Giant things that looked as ancient as this landscape.
A quick picture was required. It had the interesting sort of thing that I could feel was going to need a photo if I was going to talk about it. Pictures really were worth a thousand words. In this case, I could probably make it spread out for two thousand words if I was really putting some effort into it. I pulled over quickly and snapped photos of enormous oaks from the car. Then I was off again.
The location of the farm was already put into the car's GPS. From the looks of things, there wasn't too much for me to learn about how to drive in Romania. And it didn't really matter, since the little silver Corolla hatchback was one of the only vehicles on the road, aside from a couple of tractors, and there was even a wagon hitched to a single brown nag. They were all staring at my car like I was somehow an invader, bringing a modern car and shattering the illusion that they wanted to keep up with simpler times. I jostled about in the car, the poor suspension straining on the bumpy roads.
Not quite the sort of place that I imagined my aunt settling in, but then, I knew so little about her. If she did live in a place like this, how the hell would I know?
I turned down a side road from the main road and followed that. No signs or even markings on the road. Just gorgeous lofty trees. I’d read a bit on the plane about the area to know some big predators lived here. Wolves. Bears. Lynx. Not the place for the car to breakdown.
The GPS beeped and told me that I had arrived at my destination, with a small wooden sign with 'Cloris Vineyard' carved into it to confirm just up ahead, and yet it wasn't quite what I expected. The fact that the air was fresh and refreshing was about the only good description that I could come up with, and I had spent a few years as a copywriter to make ends meet. I knew how to put a positive spin on shit. The only problem was that there needed to be some positives to spin.
I inched the car forward to where the trees thinned and before me an open land spread out.
