The Heiress
Many have waited years with anticipation for this day to come. I guess I could be considered one of those people. The heat was stifling today, but we all pushed against one another to get a closer look. I was only an intern, but I knew this story could help jump-start my career. Looking back at my cameraman, I was still shocked that the station let me have this story. He smirked at me from a distance. It was one of a kind but also not significant to world news. Most people fall into two categories: you’re dying to know what’s inside the safe, or you could give nothing more than two shits. I would guess the majority would fall to the latter, and that’s why I ended up with the story.
Wincing, I held my breath as I felt the sweat of the man beside me smear against my forearm. Luckily his cologne masked the stench of the others around us. “Sorry,” he whispered. I nodded and didn't make eye contact, not wanting to start a conversation, knowing they would present the safe at any moment. We’d all been tightly collected here for about an hour, placing the sun directly over us. A man with a grey suit finally came into sight and approached the mic. Tilting my head slightly to the left, I had a decent view. I looked at Tom again, ensuring he was ready with the camera. He gave me an exasperated look widening his eyes. He obviously fell into that latter category.
“Hello folks, thank you all so much for being here today. I’m sure Mrs. Heseltine would’ve been shocked at the turnout. I do realize it’s hot. Mrs. Heseltine has a fascinating story which I’m sure most of you are familiar with, and that’s why you’re here….” The man with the cologne pushed close to me, trying to take part in the view I had. Shoving him back with no remorse, I noticed a slight smirk start to form at the corner of his cheek.
“Mrs. Heseltine gave up all her worldly possessions, had her house demolished, and ended up living in a small studio apartment. Many are unsure where her billion-dollar family fortune ended up as she’s been very private. Following her death, Mrs. Heseltine stated in her will that she would like the safe to be open for the globe to see. She exclaimed that it holds all the wealth in the world….”
I took a deep breath, knowing that soon it would be revealed. I was beginning to question what was in there, a fine ruby, a key to an extraordinary house, or possibly an ancient artifact or scripture. Rumors had been flying around for a while. I peeked at the man beside me. He was tentatively staring ahead with anticipation. He wasn’t half bad looking. The speaker reached into his pocket and pulled out an old metal skeleton-like key. He struggled a bit, getting the key in just right, causing angst and huffs within the crowd.
“Sorry about that, folks,” he said as he turned the key, pulling the safe door open. The safe was about 12 x 12, not very large. Stretching my neck, I tried to steal a peek of the inside. It looked empty. I looked around to see everyone responding similarly. The speaker turned around, holding a Ziploc bag. I furrowed my brow. There was paper and something else in it. He cleared his throat, set the bag on his podium, and opened it.
“Okay, folks, this is, ugh… pretty interesting. It’s a lock of hair with a pink ribbon tied around it, labeled Samantha, and there is also a death certificate in here for her late husband, Mortimore.” The crowd was dead silent, along with the speaker. He was staring into the group, befuddled.
“That’s it?” Someone yelled. We all turned towards the voice, but I couldn’t see who shouted it. “That’s it, folks. Thank you all for attending.” He grabbed the two items and shuffled off the stage toward a woman waving him into a car. Moments later, he was gone.
The scene was vacant, with a bare safe and an empty podium. The density of people around me dispersed, with some heading toward the stage, wanting more answers.
“Makes sense, right?” I turned to see the man beside me smiling. “It does?” I said, confused at his accusation.
“Heseltine, you know? She had all that money and a huge house, but she lost her baby Samantha at six months and her husband in a car crash three months later. What’s a home, money, and stuff worth if you have no one to share it with? I’m Blake, by the way,” he said, finishing with his hand hanging out in front of me.
I found myself unintentionally growing a slight affectionate smile for Blake, “Kelly,” I said, grabbing his hand into mine.