“To my grandson, Nic, I leave the family property outside of New Orleans, the rest of the belongings including furniture inside and on the property that I don’t specifically bequest to someone else, and the trust with funds that has been set aside to manage the property.” Mr. Dean handed Nic another folder. “This has the trust documents as well as a complete inventory of the property and the belongings. Your grandmother had Trenton do the inventory of the house and surrounding property. You are now the owner of, among other things, an old tractor that is in the barn on the outer field. Your grandmother was very excited to hear that the tractor hadn’t been sold when your father stopped farming the land years ago.”

  “Grandma Andrews loved talking about the land and all the blessings it had given the family over the years.” Nic took the folder and set it under the will folder. “Maybe I’ll become a gentleman farmer in the future.”

  I squeezed his arm. “Grandma would love that. But I don’t think it’s in your blood.”

  He laughed and wiped at his eyes, “You’re probably right there. I like my suits and shiny shoes too much.”

  The others gathered at the table chuckled quietly, but even I could feel the edge. Grandma’s will hadn’t discussed the bank accounts yet. Aunt Franny, who was quietly watching Nic and I, had been the only other person mentioned yet. The rest were all still expecting a windfall.

  Mr. Dean returned to his seat. “There’s just a little more. And to my granddaughter, Eddie Cayce, I leave the rest of my estate. Any accounts or coins or monetary amounts not otherwise bequeathed are to go to my dear Eddie. I hope you find that home can be a place of support and independence at the same time. Live your wildest dream, my dear.”

  Mr. Dean closed the folder.

  “That’s it?” Uncle Arthur demanded. “Just those three get all of her estate?”

  Mr. Dean nodded. “There were a few gifts to charity that happened as soon as I was notified of her death per her request. She left fifty thousand to the animal shelter and the same amount to a local private school, New Orleans Academy, but the rest has been divided between the three blood decedents.”

  I thought he’d probably made that clarification for the other lawyers in the room. He walked over and handed me a folder. I looked up at him. “What’s this?”

  “That’s a listing of the accounts and amounts of your inheritance. Before you leave, I’ll have you sign the paperwork to switch over the bank accounts to your name. It will be with the bank your family has used, but of course, as soon as the process is complete, you can switch money over to whatever bank you want.” Mr. Dean went and sat in his chair. He took a beignet from the platter in front of him and took a bite. Then he brushed the powdered sugar from his jacket. “I should have taken this off first. I always make a mess with these. Did anyone have any questions?”

  “How much was the inheritance to Eddie?” Uncle Orrin asked Mr. Dean. He was staring at me like I’d taken his favorite toy or something.

  “That is privileged information and I’m not allowed to divulge it. Ms. Cayce can or she can choose not to answer either.”

  Now everyone was staring at me. I closed the listing that I’d only glanced at before. It was a few million from what I could tell, but some was in stocks, some in bonds. I would need some time to dig through what Grandma Andrews had left me to see what I actually had. But I knew one thing. It wasn’t anyone’s business but mine. “I haven’t had time to review the listing yet.”

  “But about how much was it?” Aunt Gloria pressed me for an answer. “You can see the balances and add up numbers. You graduated from college for gosh sakes.”

  Now, they were insulting me. I hated being back home. I shut the folder and stared right at her. “I don’t feel the need to tell you.”

  The room went quiet and then everyone, including the lawyers started talking at once. Nic squeezed my arm as a show of solidarity. Finally, Mr. Dean stood and banged what looked like a gavel on the table. The sound stopped the questions. “Sorry, I’m afraid our time here is up. There’s another meeting in the conference room in five minutes. Mr. Ardronic and Ms. Cayce, please follow me to my office so we can get this paperwork filed.”

  “We will be asking a judge to put a hold on probate until the will is verified.” Uncle Arthur’s attorney stood.

  “I’ve already talked to Judge Olden. He’s waiting for your call. We expected a challenge, but I assure you, the will is valid.” Mr. Dean nodded to his assistants. “Please give the attorneys a copy of the judge’s contact information.”

  Mr. Dean stepped in between Nic and I and shepherded us out of the room. When we were in the hallway, he murmured, “Well, that went better than I’d expected.”

  I turned back and looked at the group of relatives huddled around their respective attorneys. “You were expecting that reaction? What’s wrong with them? I can’t believe they’re even thinking about challenging the will.”

  “Your grandmother amassed a lot of money and probably certain assumptions were made over the years. Don’t worry, the will is valid, the judge is aware of the special circumstances, and any challenges will be snuffed out quickly. Probate will be finished in a week or so.” He opened a door. “This is my office. I’ll set up the paperwork. It won’t take much time, but it will be enough for my staff to get your relatives out of the building and the parking lot before you leave. I’ve installed security at the house as well, just in case.”

  “You think they’d just go in and take something?” Now I was worried.

  Nic shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. I think Grandma was afraid that they’d try to influence us to renounce our inheritance. That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to stay at the compound instead of in town. I can assign a bodyguard for you there too. Besides, there’s one more thing we need to talk about.”

  “I’ve got the papers on my desk along with more coffee or other drinks. If you want something else, just ask Carrie. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” Mr. Dean held open the interior doors to his office. “I believe everything you need is set up. Your grandmother had very detailed notes.”

  Nic put his arm around me and led me to the office, shutting the door behind us. “Now, don’t go crazy on me, but Grandma left you another inheritance.”

  “I don’t understand.” I turned back and looked at the closed door. “If there’s something else, shouldn’t the lawyer be giving it to me?”

  Nic led me to a seat and nodded for me to take it. After I sat down, I prodded him for an answer. “Seriously, you’re scaring me.”

  He sat across from me and took a paint brush and dipped it into a jar he’d just opened. Then he took my left hand and used the brush to draw a symbol on my hand. The smell hit me before I could react. Blood.

  The energy flowed through me as I stared at the glowing symbol. Grandma Andrews had left me her gifts. As one of two female descendants, the power would have gone to me or to Aunt Franny. I’d hoped my aunt had mended her issues with Grandma before her death, but based on the symbol on my hand, that hadn’t happened. After the initial rush of power, I let my gaze drift upward toward Nic. “I didn’t want this.”

  “I don’t think you had a choice. She’d left you the power. This,” he waved at the blood and the symbol, is just the physical transfer. This way, you are in control. If we hadn’t done this, the power would have chosen when and where to show up. You know the rules. It’s passed after the owner is buried. And to the female descendent of that person’s choosing. The only way you could have said no was to die. Honestly, I’m not ready to lose my only sibling over an inability to accept her powers.”

  “She should have given it to Aunt Franny.” Tears threatened to fall, but I turned my head and stood, taking the vial of blood to the small bathroom next to the office. I had never been in this office before, but I’d known where the door to the bathroom was. Because my grandmother had been here. I knew what she’d known. Which meant I knew why she hadn’t given it to Aunt Franny. After I’d dumped the blood and washed out the vial, I came back into the office. I looked at my brother for confirmation of the answer that had just been provided to me. “Aunt Franny used a love spell on her last husband? Are you kidding me?”

  Nic grinned. “I guess the memories have transferred to you. Yes, that’s the story Grandma Andrews told me when she told me about the inheritance. I’d asked her the same questions. I knew you were happy in your Seattle life and didn’t want to come back.”

  “Well, let’s just say I was in denial in my Seattle life. Happy being an idiot.” I held up my hand, warding off the questions about my relationship with David. Or the support. “It’s over, I don’t want to talk about it. What I want to do is start a new life here. I guess I’ve got the funding to start or buy a business now. How much of a problem are the aunts and uncles going to be? Do I need to hold off spending some of that money?”

  Nic wrapped the empty vial and the small paintbrush in a white handkerchief and tucked it in his pocket. “I’ll have Trenton start a fire in the living room when I get home. This will be gone before nightfall. It’s tradition.”

  “Thanks, I know you’ll handle it. I trust you.” I glanced around the desk making sure Grandma’s blood hadn’t leaked or dropped anywhere. “But what about the money?”

  “That question is for our attorney. I’ll let him know we’re ready.” He went to the door to get Mr. Dean, as I sat back down. The food had helped me not pass out when the ceremony was performed, but now I was starving. A plate full of croissants sat on Mr. Dean’s desk, and I took one and ripped open to eat the buttery insides. Then I ate another.

  I glanced at my hand where Nic had drawn the family symbol, but the blood was gone. Instead, I now had a cute tattoo of a lion. Our family mascot. Family lore said our blood line was out of Romania, part of the roving bands of gypsies that caravanned around Europe. I hadn’t ever traced our history, but now, with so much in my head, memories from one practitioner to the next, lifetime after lifetime maybe I’d write it down in case I had a daughter. Or worse, in case I didn’t.

  “Everything taken care of then?” Mr. Dean asked as he studied me. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, maybe a second head, but I felt the same as I had before we’d come into his office. Maybe a tad less sad since I could feel Grandma’s presence in the back of my mind. The locket had kept her and Grandpa near my heart, but this level of connection felt like she was standing behind me.

  “Yes, we’re done. However, Eddie and I would like to know about the inheritance process. Do you think the relatives have a chance at breaking the will?” Nic sat next to me.

  Mr. Dean crossed the room and sat at his desk. I got the feeling he was using it as a shield against me. He knew the power we, or I guess, I now held. And it scared him. Even though he’d been the family lawyer for years. And before that, his father had been our attorney. And his grandfather. When he retired, the family attorney role would pass to the next generation. It was in our contract with the Dean family. They were well compensated for their loyalty. I didn’t want him to be frightened of any of us. Unless you counted Uncle Arthur. He was scary.

  A smile crossed Nic’s face and I realized he’d been listening to my thoughts. I broke the connection and put up a wall. Something I needed to do every morning for the rest of my life. A wall to protect my thoughts as well as those of my ancestors I’d just been given.

  I refocused on what Mr. Dean was saying.

  “The judge has already reviewed the will and the facts in the case. There’s no reason to break the will or change the inheritance. They can sue, but that won’t cost you anything. We’ll get our money from the losing side and believe me, they will lose. Your grandfather’s will was contested by your uncle a few years ago when everything went to your grandmother except for the business which went to Nic. He lost then. He’ll lose again. And, they had more ammunition back then since your uncle worked in the business for so many years.” He set a packet of papers in front of each of us. “Time to sign and make this all legal. Then, Ms. Cayce, you can spend the money anyway you want to.”

  I started to sign. Without looking up, I said, “I’m going to buy an antique shop. Do you know any brokers that specialize in that type of business? I’d love to acquire one on Royal if possible.”

  He drummed his fingers on the desk. Then he opened a drawer and pulled out a card. He slid it across the desk toward her. “I don’t know any that are currently for sale, but I hear rumors. Call Daniella. She’s the best in town. She’ll find you a shop.”

  4

  Two weeks later, I found myself sitting at Café Du Monte waiting for Danielle LaCrosse once again. I was beginning to think it might be months, maybe years, before the right shop came available at a price I wanted to pay. Yes, I had the money to buy the two overpriced shops I’d seen so far, but that was the problem. People in the New Orleans area saw my name and added a couple of zeros to the price before I walked in the door. And that was with me using my grandmother’s maiden name. The Ardronic/Cayce name dripped power and money in this town. Unfortunately, I wasn’t ready to spend money like my aunts and uncles did. Sue me for being practical.

  And there was the little thing about accepting Grandma’s Andrew’s powers. Now, everywhere I went, a ghost wanted to chat or file a grievance about their afterlife. Like I could control the fact that the current residents of a local French Quarter building were tearing out the wallpaper and painting the living area black. Design wise, I agreed with the ghost I’d met on yesterday’s walk on the lack of class for the change. Practically, there was nothing I could do to make the new, living, owners’ change their mind. Except drop off a card with my design company website and phone number.

  I informed the ghost that if they called, I would try to guide them away from the changes, but that was all I could do. The woman had disappeared in a huff and I hadn’t received a call from the misguided homeowners.

  Today, a ghost sat next to me at my table while I waited for Danielle to arrive. I was trying to read as I let my coffee cool from the just short of surface of the sun temperature the café served it to almost drinkable. The ghost was enjoying the smells and trying to get me to order beignets.

  “Just one.” The older woman in a I Love Nola t-shirt suggested. She’d told me her name was Helen and she’d been hanging around the café for the last year. “I didn’t even get to eat one when Frank and I came here on vacation. I had a heart attack before the food was even served.”

  I looked up from the book, a thriller from an author I loved. “If the waitress comes by before Danielle gets here, I’ll order one. But please, let me read.”

  She clapped her hands in joy and the breeze from her excitement blew a napkin off my table and onto the next table crowded nearby. The man at the table grabbed it and handed it back to me. “That’s the first puff of wind I’ve felt since I sat down in this tent.”

  “Thanks, it was probably from the fans.” I took the napkin and pointed upward to the fans that were slowly circulating but not making much of an effort to cool down the overcrowded tent.

  He looked upward and frowned, but then nodded and went back to chatting with the woman next to him.

  I frowned at my table companion, and she laughed. “Sorry, I forget that not everyone can see me. How come you can see me? Are you related to Marie LaBoo?” The ghost continued to chatter. “I did get to see her tomb in St Louis Cemetery #1. We went there the morning I died. Maybe I got heat stroke.”

  “It’s Marie Laveau you’re thinking of. According to legend, she was the voodoo queen of New Orleans in the 1800’s. She was also an herbalist and midwife. Basically, she served as the local doctor of the times, but everyone puts supernatural powers on things they don’t understand. Especially when a woman is healing sick people.” I pointed to my earbud as the man from the other table stared at me for talking to myself. He nodded and smiled. At least with modern technology I didn’t look like I was talking to voices when I got into a public discussion with a ghost.

  Danielle arrived before the waitress much to Helen’s dismay. I tucked the book away and picked up my still hot cup of coffee and went to meet her. “I’m ready if you are.”

  The business consultant gave me a quick hug and nodded to my cup. “The last time I had coffee here, I burned my tongue and couldn’t taste anything for three days.”

  “It’s still hot and I’ve been here since nine.” Which had been our agreed upon meeting time. Now it was twenty minutes later. Things moved slower in the South. We had ten minutes to walk to the antique shop.

  “I called Matty Goldstein and told him we might be a little late. He’s fine with it. Of course, I need to warn you. He puts the place up for sale every few years and gets offers, but he never sells. I think he uses the offers to support his bank financing. I hear the place is overextended on its loans. So maybe this time, he really wants to sell. But I wouldn’t bet on it.” Danielle walked on the sidewalk and through the crowd of tourists moving toward Jackson Square. “We can walk faster to the shop than try to find a cab.”

  “It’s crowded today.” I dodged a man handing out flyers for one of the Bourbon Street bars. “I thought weekends were the busy time down here.”

  “Every day’s busy anymore. I swear, we have more tourists every year. Have you thought about looking at shops in the Garden District instead? I know a few out there that are willing to entertain an offer.” We were paused at a light, and she looked at me hopefully.

  “It’s a possibility. I wanted to be on Royal Street. But I’m not willing to pay extra just because I’m desperate.” I glanced at my watch again. We were two minutes late now and still a few blocks away from the shop.

  A woman in a flowered dress and several plastic bead necklaces walked through the crosswalk and the car that was driving past us. I blinked as I saw her reemerge on the other side and smile at me. This power was going to take some time to get used to, that was for sure. Maybe setting up a shop away from the high tourist traffic might not be a bad idea. Antique shoppers loved small quaint shops in beautiful neighborhoods. If I could find the right property, it might just be a better location.