Aug 2, 2026 · 2 hr 51 min · 12 segments
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Without warning, my entire crew had been laid off.
I had driven home in a numb haze, half thrilled that I might never see that soul-sucking place again, and half terrified about how I was going to pay next month's rent.
I was so distracted that I almost walked right over top of the guy.
"Benjamin Alexander Hearn?" he asked officiously.
I told him that just Ben was fine.
Nobody had called me Benjamin since high school detention.
"My name is Osgood Mosby of Mosby & Sons Solicitors," the man in the red tie went on.
"I have an important message for you regarding the final testament of Jennifer Price.
May we speak inside?" Jennifer Price.
I hadn't thought about my mother in years.
Apart from the photos that my father had shown me when I was a child, I had never actually seen her, and that was fine with me.
As far as I was concerned, my father was my only real family.
Jennifer Price was just some woman who had brought me into the world and then left me to fend for myself.
To his credit, my father never blamed her for walking out on us.
When I asked why she left, he would only shrug and say, "Oh, I'm sure she had her reasons." After a long day of work, he barely had the energy to heat up dinner and play with me for an hour or two before collapsing into bed, and as I got older, I came to understand that the questions that I was asking only caused him pain.
If he was keeping any of my mother's secrets, he took them with him to the grave.
I stared down at the manila envelope in the little bald lawyer's hands, wondering what it could possibly contain.
An apology letter? The rights to some mostly empty bank accounts and a mountain of debt? It wasn't until I sat down across from Osgood Mosby that I realized what his visit really meant.
My mother, my last living relative, had passed on.
It was a lonely, hollow feeling, and I hadn't expected it to hit quite so hard.
[gentle music] "Firstly, Benjamin, let me say that I'm sorry for your loss," Osgood Mosby began.
"Oh, these visits are never easy, but we've been entrusted with the execution of your mother's will." The lawyer paused.
Something about the situation rubbed him the wrong way, but I couldn't tell what.
"As you'll see here," he continued, "her assets are entirely tied up in Weeping Tree Books.
Taking ownership of the store is therefore practically a requirement to inherit." I blinked.
Without warning, my entire crew had been laid off.
I had driven home in a numb haze, half thrilled that I might never see that soul-sucking place again, and half terrified about how I was going to pay next month's rent.
I was so distracted that I almost walked right over top of the guy.
"Benjamin Alexander Hearn?" he asked officiously.
I told him that just Ben was fine.
Nobody had called me Benjamin since high school detention.
"My name is Osgood Mosby of Mosby & Sons Solicitors," the man in the red tie went on.
"I have an important message for you regarding the final testament of Jennifer Price.
May we speak inside?" Jennifer Price.
I hadn't thought about my mother in years.
Apart from the photos that my father had shown me when I was a child, I had never actually seen her, and that was fine with me.
As far as I was concerned, my father was my only real family.
Jennifer Price was just some woman who had brought me into the world and then left me to fend for myself.
To his credit, my father never blamed her for walking out on us.
When I asked why she left, he would only shrug and say, "Oh, I'm sure she had her reasons." After a long day of work, he barely had the energy to heat up dinner and play with me for an hour or two before collapsing into bed, and as I got older, I came to understand that the questions that I was asking only caused him pain.
If he was keeping any of my mother's secrets, he took them with him to the grave.
I stared down at the manila envelope in the little bald lawyer's hands, wondering what it could possibly contain.
An apology letter? The rights to some mostly empty bank accounts and a mountain of debt? It wasn't until I sat down across from Osgood Mosby that I realized what his visit really meant.
My mother, my last living relative, had passed on.
It was a lonely, hollow feeling, and I hadn't expected it to hit quite so hard.
[gentle music] "Firstly, Benjamin, let me say that I'm sorry for your loss," Osgood Mosby began.
"Oh, these visits are never easy, but we've been entrusted with the execution of your mother's will." The lawyer paused.
Something about the situation rubbed him the wrong way, but I couldn't tell what.
"As you'll see here," he continued, "her assets are entirely tied up in Weeping Tree Books.
Taking ownership of the store is therefore practically a requirement to inherit." I blinked.
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