TRAP INHERITANCE

Handle It

Foreman one of the oldest attorneys poked his head in while I was scanning contracts. "You got that thing for Givens?"

I handed it to him without answering. It was already clipped and labeled. He took it, and nodded once in appreciation before disappearing again.

My phone buzzed in my tote bag around 10:12. I ignored it. Three minutes later, it buzzed again.

I pulled it out of my purse and checked the screen.

312-367-8738
Voicemail: 0:23

I tapped it and held the phone to my ear.

Static then a man's voice.

"Kori Vaughn. If you got that envelope, it's yours now.  It was your father's. No catch. No scam. Nobody's coming for it. Just take care of it. Call us back at 312-367-8738." Then it cut off. No name. Just us. Who is us?

I locked the phone and slid it back into my bag. I didn't react. Didn't ask anything out loud. I just sat back in the chair, stared at the wall calendar, and started counting how many days until the end of the month. I did that about 10 times in a row, just checking in with myself and making sure I wasn't spiraling plus it calmed me down.

He said no catch. That meant there was one. Nobody ever said something like that unless they were lying or covering their ass.

I knew better than to take anything at face value, especially something tied to my past but I also wasn't panicking. I didn't move like that. If something needed to be handled, I'd handle it. Just not in the middle of work.

At 10:40, I stood up, grabbed the stack of papers I needed, and headed toward Ms. Robbins' office. She was the 2nd attorney at this office but she's the one that liked me least. I didn't know why nor did I care.

Her door was cracked open, which usually meant "knock softly and wait," but I didn't have time for that today. I stepped inside, set the files on the corner of her desk, "Red-lined and flagged. Highlighted anything that might get kicked back." I said.

"That was fast." She said smugly.

"I know." I replied.

She didn't say thank you, but she didn't have to. We weren't warm with each other, but we respected each other's time. That was enough.

Back at my desk, I opened my Google Doc the one I used to keep track of my bills, calendar reminders, work stuff, and the occasional late-night thought I couldn't shake. I added a new line:

Property on 82nd: verify ownership/taxes.

I didn't hit "save." I just let it auto-update and minimized the tab. I'd dig later.

Around 11:30, Monique walked by on her way to the breakroom. She peeked in, "You takin' lunch today?"

"Eventually." I answered keeping it short.

"They ordering Thai. Want in?"

"No, I'll step out."

"You been stepping out a lot lately. I remember when you used to just be locked up in here for your lunch."

I didn't answer and she got the memo and disappeared around the corner, heels clicking like clock hands.

Monique was messy. I hate mess because it messes with my peace, so I stayed away. I just stayed cordial. Between her and Robbin's, they would be the reason I quit. I was hired at 19 and I grew physically and mentally but it's like they stayed the same. Haven't changed a day since I was hired. Maybe that's a reason Robbin's didn't like me.