Inheritance (Preview)

Inheritance - Ch. 1

It was going to be one of those days. She could just tell. 

Jess was a medium, and this might not sound like the kind of job that could leave you wanting to bury your head under a pile of pillows, but she had learned the hard way that sometimes this was the case. 

In truth, there were two different types of clients—the Sincere and the Greedy. Sounds a bit like the name of a soap opera, but it is nowhere near as mindlessly entertaining. The Sincere were a treat, but the Greedy left her drained, weighted down by the kind of exhaustion that made it hard to string a complete sentence together.

Luckily, the majority of those who sought Jess out were not of that nasty ilk. Most of her clients needed the empathy and comfort that could only come from someone like her. She felt not only obliged but happy to give them what they craved. These were the appointments she loved, the ones which helped her feel like there might be a purpose for her gift, a reason for why she had to deal with always being made to feel like a freak.

She had more than a touch of jealousy for her clients. There was a cruel twist to Jess' gift in that she'd been unable to give herself the same kind of peace by talking to her own deceased loved ones. While she could provide solace to so many others, she couldn't get an ounce for herself. She had never once seen a spirit to whom she was emotionally attached. None of them—not her Grandma, her Grandpa, not even the mother who had died giving birth to her—had ever made an appearance. Jess saw that as some kind of sick joke.

The idea of seeking payment for her skill had ultimately been born of necessity—a girl's got to eat. She only wished she could filter her clients, refusing those she suspected of being in the group of Greedy; however, that would be a little like having a bouncer in a retail shop who did not allow entry to those who seemed cranky. A client is a client is a dollar.

The first hint that this was going to be one of those dreaded appointments came before she'd even stepped through the door. She dragged her sandal-clad feet along the path to the entry and glanced through the bay window that fronted the living room. The deceased was pacing angrily around the room, muttering what her lip reading skills interpreted as obscenities. She muttered her own choice words under her breath as she realized that whatever it was he had to say, it would not be a message of love and kisses. 

More clues followed. When the door was opened by the grieving widow, Jess immediately observed that in spite of the dramatic sobs, there were no tears in her eyes. The perfect makeup, immaculate hair and designer dress hardly bespoke someone who was grief stricken. 

She should have walked away immediately, but the rent needed to be paid, and Jess was determined to make it on her own. Her father called her willful—she preferred independent.

The purpose of the appointment was not an unusual one. She was to find out the location of the deceased's will. Mrs. Achison dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and spoke of her desperate need to know his final wishes, at her feelings of emptiness over this unresolved issue. To hear her describe it, the will's absence was one of the world's great tragedies. Jess took it all in stride.

Call her cynical, but she'd long since stopped taking displays of emotion as truth. Too many people wiped at dry eyes.

Payment was the final step before beginning the session. One thing Jess had learned over time was that she must always be paid up front. She'd run into more than one client who had decided Jess was a hack based solely on the fact that they hadn't received the message they'd wanted. Another lesson Jess had learned: the truth doesn't always go down well. 

Cash in hand, it was time to get to work. 

"Mr. Achison," she said silently, settling her small frame into a chair. She looked directly at him, making it clear that she could both see and hear him. "Your wife asked me here to speak with you."