Uncle Mortimer's Mansion

Uncle Mortimer's Mansion-- o1

I fumbled with my car keys in gloved fingers with one hand, the other clutching my hot chocolate. I unlocked my Toyota Avalon, swooping myself inside, slamming the door shut and firing up the engine.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damnwas all I could manage to think.

How did I get fired? I've only been working here for eight months! I did everything the stupid company told me to do; I came up with new business proposals… I even started a sales pitch for crying out loud!

How could they do this to me?

I'm only twenty-three years old; this will not look good on my resume.

I pulled into the parking lot to my condo. How could I afford to live here anymore? I'm not made of money! With the recession going on, I was lucky enough to land a job, now that eventhathas been taken away from me; I'm not sure how I'll manage.

I stormed into the condo, leaving my hot chocolate in the car--I didn't want it anymore. I hurled my jacket on the couch, and then calmly walked over to the phone to listen for messages.

"You have one new voice message," The robot told me. Hoorah."First voice message playback. Beep. Hi, darling. It's your mother here. I know that you are probably at work right now, so I won't call your cell phone, but call me back as soon as you can. I love you, bye."

My eyebrows furrowed together. My mother's sweet, caring voice did not sound like she usually sounded. I sighed shaking my head. First I get fired, and now my mother is upset. How could this day get any worse?

"Hello, Eileen?" my mom sounded frantic, picking up at the first ring.

"Yeah, mom, it's me. What's the matter?"

"Nothing is the matter… really," my mother drawled on the words.

"What's the matter?" I repeated.

"Well, I need you to come down to Florida today, it's… sort of important."

"Florida? Sort of important? Mom, you're going to need to be a little more specific if you want me to drive twenty-"

"It's your great-uncle Mortimer," she cut me off, "he passed away this morning."

I shut up. "Well, in that case, I guess I better go down there, huh?"

"Yes, I think you should."

I scratched my head. "Can you give me his address?" I asked, pulling out the pen and pad of paper I kept by the phone.

My mom gave me the address to my uncle's mansion in Pensacola (A/N: I've never been there, but I googled it and it looks gorgeous). I've been to my uncle's mansion only twice in my life and that was when I was young. Great-uncle Mortimer would always visit us in New York. Uncle Mortimer would always come to visit us, because he and his wife, Helena (who passed away five years ago) didn’t have any children.

Great-uncle Mortimer is my father’s, father’s, brother. Helena and everyone on her side of the family (the Kempton’s) are not related to me in any way, shape, or form. In fact, I hadn’t seen any of the Kempton’s in over ten years—they lived in Virginia.

I sighed, running a hand through my chestnut brown hair. It was quite possible that Uncle Mortimer could’ve left me some money; he had always liked me for my quirky attitude. I know that that might’ve seemed very greedy, but seriously, what else to people think about when a rich relative dies after they’ve just lost their job?

I left my house again, not even spending a good five minutes in there, shuffling my arms into my trench coat and grabbing my car keys and wallet on the way out. I locked my door, knowing that I probably wouldn’t be back for another week or so, and then continued down the stairs and hopped into my car.

I started my car and pulled out of the driveway, sipping my hot chocolate as slowly as I pulled out onto the highway, anticipating the twenty hour car ride.

The next day at around eight o’clock at night, I pulled up to the gates of my uncle’s mansion. I had stopped in a gas station in North Carolina to sleep (thank god my car is comfortable) and had eaten all of my meals at McDonalds, which, come to think of it, I don’t even like.

“Who is it?” A very garish voice on a speaker asked as I pulled up to the large black gates of the mansion.

“My name is Eileen Wilson. Mortimer was my great-uncle,” I answered back in a strained voice, leaning sleepily out of my car window.

“Yes, yes, I’ll buzz you in,” the voice answered.

I pulled back into my car, flopping back on my seat as a buzz sounded and the big gates opened before me. I lazily stepped on the gas pedal; this place was way too fancy for my tastes.

I parked my car between to my parents cranberry red mini-van, and my brother Jeremy’s white sedan. So they were all here…

I fixed my greasy hair into a bun, wanting it to look less like I just spent a day on the road. I suddenly felt compelled to fix myself up, as if I needed to fit in with this giant mansion, and its rolling green hills, fountains, and beautiful gardens on either side of the gravel path that cars would travel on. I slowly stepped out of my car, just as another car started pulling up the drive. I reached in the car for my trench coat, and slung it over my arm. It was a lot warmer in Florida than in New York.

The car that had been pulling up as I got out of the car parked across from me, and I stood there waiting for whomever it was, figuring that they were family in one way or another.

The car door opened, and out stepped the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He had black hair, and grey eyes, broad shoulders, and this smirk that would play on his full lips whenever he got the chance to.

“Hey, Trey,” I would know Trey from anywhere, even though I hadn’t seen him in over ten years. He still had that same cocky way of standing, as if he knew he was the best.

“Hi, Eileen, how have you been?” Trey asked. My god, is it just me, or did his voice get even sexier?

“Well, I have been pretty good, up until yesterday,” I responded, composing myself.

“Why? Because Uncle Morty died?” he asked, cocking a head to one side, knowing that we must have not been so attached to each other.

I gave a quick, short, laugh. “No. I lost my job at the firm,” I said, starting to walk towards the mansion.

Trey clicked his tongue, falling in step with me towards the house. “That sucks,” he commented, not even bothering to ask why.

“Yeah…” I agreed nonchalantly. “What about you? How have you been?”

Trey made a pained face. “Horrible. I don’t think you’ve ever met her, but I had a girlfriend… Shannon,” Trey cleared his throat. “I was… um, going to propose to her,” Trey started, clearing his throat again. “But… she… she sort of broke up with me before I got the chance to,” Trent said, running a hair messily through is glossy black locks. “She said that she’d been cheating on me for seven months, and that she couldn’t take it anymore.”

I cleared my throat awkwardly. “It’s okay, at least you didn’t marry her,” I said, patting him on the back awkwardly.

Trent laughed a humorless laugh, “Yeah…” and then he started walking at a stride a lot faster than me, pulling open the door to the mansion, and disappearing inside, leaving the door open for me.