Windfall

By Arlene Hill

How many of us dream of a rich, unknown uncle dying and leaving us a fortune. "Yeah like that would ever happen." So thought Jeremy and Will Bitner; until they were contacted by an attorney's assistant for the reading of a will..

I Sylvester William Mumford Ramsey, being conscious enough to know that I ought to write a will, think I better get with it since I'm not getting any younger. Well, nobody gets any younger, so I've got lots of company.
I know that that rapscallion brother-in-law of mine – hope he's rotting wherever he is – had a couple of grandkids: So I'm gonna leave this here house and all my stuff to them, but only because it chaps my hide to think that the state would take it all if I didn't leave it to someone. I jist hope they aren't a couple of low-lifes like their grandpappy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365083839

Book preview

Windfall

Windfall

By Arlene Hill

Copyright © 2016 by Arlene Hill

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

ISBN 978-1-365-08383-9

First printing: 2016

Publisher: Arlene Hill

Chapter One

Jeremy!

Whoa….! That was so COOL.

This is a disaster! Look at this! Jeremy, how could you? I told you…

Aren't you gonna ask if I'm all right?

I stopped and looked at my brother; a pile of arms and legs. Oh, yeah. Are you all right?

Yeah.

That's good. Jeremy, why did you …? I groaned in exasperation. I told you it wasn't ready; that we still had to make some adjustments.

WooH Weee! That was some ride.

Jeremy. I could tell my voice was starting to sound ominous, but after all our work, I felt entitled.

Hey, Big Bro. It's no big deal. I'm not hurt.

Jeremy, I don't care about you not being hurt. I listened to myself and started to backpedal. I mean, of course I'm glad that you didn't get hurt; I'm delighted that you are fine, but just look at this mess.

Jeremy grinned his engaging, cocky grin. The grin that always always always … helped him avoid getting into trouble no matter what he did. Even I recognized that no one could resist his infectious smile; I couldn't help myself and grinned back.

But Will, you always need to make just a few more adjustments. You think everything has to be perfect, and if it's perfect … well, where's the fun in that?

My brother may have been exactly one year younger than I – we shared a birthday last week when he turned nine and I turned ten – but I felt as if I was years and years older. Mom sometimes would shake her head and say, Will, I think you were born an old man. I guess she was sort of right, I couldn't help myself; I just wanted things to be … right. If I stopped to think about it, I wished I could be more like Jeremy, but why couldn't he be just a little more responsible; a little more careful? Was that too much to ask?

I leaned over and held out my hand to pull Jeremy to his feet and noticed that when he stood up, he winced.

Jeremy, are you sure you are all right?

The grin was back. Yeah. But I think I'll probably have some mama-honker bruises. I just hope one or two will be in places where I can show them off.

You gonna be wearing tee-shirts and shorts for the next few days, huh?

I think bruises are the coolest things. First they are all purplish and then they change to green and yellow. The best bruises last for weeks and weeks. He studied the wreckage, Sorry about the go-cart. It looks like one or two boards got busted.

One or two!?

Okay, maybe three or four. But we can fix it; right?

I picked up a broken slat and tossed it. Yeah. We can fix it. Besides, if it was all fixed and finished, what would we do for the rest of the summer?

You mean, besides push each other around in our awesome go-cart?

Yeah. Besides that.

Dunno. Jeremy grinned again. But that was some wild ride. Next time, let's take it over to Dead Drop Hill.

Ah ha! I'm on to you. You just want bigger and better bruises.

Yep. And maybe a broken arm … or even a leg. Now that would be way cool.

Not so cool if you can't do ANYTHING fun because you are hobbling around on crutches or have your arm in a cast.

Oh, yeah. Never thought about that. Don't want to have to hobble through my summer vacation.

Chapter Two

Will? I jerked back to attention and studied my brother. A little help here? He grinned.

I sighed and reached down to assist in extricating Jeremy from the wreckage. Why do I have a sense of déjà vu? It seems that fifteen years hasn't changed you a bit. You knew we still had some tweaking to do on our prototype.

Jeremy laughed, Déjà vu is right; I'm guessing you are remembering our go-cart birthday present to ourselves. We worked on that so hard.

And then you wrecked it.

Well, yeah, I guess I did. But we put it all back together and it was better than ever.

And now you've wrecked this one.

Aw, it's not too bad. In fact it's pretty much intact except for needing a better way to secure the wheels.

I grinned at my brother. You are still the happy-go-lucky guy you were when you were nine. Why don't you grow up?

And you, big brother, are still the same … everything-has-to-be-perfectly-perfect guy. I will admit that you are right, if we'd inspected the wheels more carefully, we would probably have realized that the bolts were too short. But there isn't really much damage; the wheel just came off. But whoo-ee it was some ride.

Any bruises to brag about?

I certainly hope so. I'm picking up Cinda for dinner tonight. And bruises are always good for sympathy and extra TLC.

Cinda, tonight, huh? Whatever happened to what's-er-name?

You mean Angie?

Yeah, I guess. The one who rescued you last time you crashed our go-cart. It was hard for me to keep track of Jeremy's women.

Jeremy's perpetual grin slipped and he sighed, Angie was … wow … but Angie is no longer a member of the Jeb … uh, Jeremy Evan Bitner … fan club.

And that would be because …?

Cinda.

I sent my brother an exasperated look. I really liked Angie, you two seemed good together.

Yeah. I thought so too. I thought maybe she was the one.

So what happened?

Like I said, Cinda happened.

Let me see if I've got this right. You thought Angie was the one and then you blew it.

It wasn't my fault and Angie misunderstood a perfectly innocent … Jeremy's expression showed uncharacteristic anguish. Anyway, Angie didn't hang around long enough for me to explain; she simply said we were done and left. So hey, Cinda was more than happy to fill in, and we're going to dinner tonight. Jeremy's signature grin was back, but it belied the hurt in his eyes.

One look at Jeremy let me know that the subject of Angie and Cinda was de trop, so I indicated the jumble in front of us. Well, Lil' Bro, whose aim in life seems to be demolition and destruction of all our joint endeavors, let's collect the scrap, I pointed to the remains of our super-deluxe go-cart, and head back to the shop. I grinned over at Jeremy. It would be prudent for you to at least limp a little. Then maybe I won't feel so inclined to annihilate you.

Jeremy assumed an expression of intense pain, at least I supposed he thought his distorted features spoke of pain and suffering, but in reality were simply ludicrous. Stop! I said. I can't take the face; a simple limp will do nicely. But the face … it's killing me.

Jeremy laughed and smoothed out his features. Then with an exaggerated limp, helped me retrieve what was going to be our latest and greatest contraption … a self-propelled go cart with battery boost for the up-hilling … and/or the lazy. The ultimate purpose of our machine was for exercise for those who hated exercise, but loved cool. Of course Jeremy hadn't been satisfied with just testing the exercise part … he'd used the battery boost and the equivalent of Dead Drop Hill.

We dragged our cart back to the shop, which was really just the RV section of Dad's garage; the space being empty because the RV was long gone; Mom and Dad having taken off to see the country for six months or a year or however long it would take for them to head for home.

Think of it this way, Will. Any product that is Jeremy Bitner tested, will stand the test of … well, just about anything or anybody.

"You're right. In fact, we ought to patent a label to slap on our inventions: This product has been J. Evan Bitner tested."

"Or, how about: This product has been awarded the JEB seal of durability?"

The trouble is, Jeremy, so far we haven't ever invented anything that could withstand J. Evan Bitner testing.

Well, not the first time. But eventually we get it right. Right?

I guess.

What do you mean, you guess? Of course there was the original go-cart. And then, how about the off-grampa's-barn-roof hang glider?

Boy, you sure wrecked that one. I still can't figure out how you got out of that alive.

But … when we were done, it worked.

I will have to admit it did.

Jeremy laughed. Then there was the boat or skiff; I can't even remember what we called it.

How about the tree house with the elevator? Or the cherry-picking cherry picker?

Boy Mom was sure upset about that one.

Yeah, that was not one of our most intelligent designs.

But it worked … well, kinda.

I slapped Jeremy on the back, We were pretty good at designing and …

Wrecking.

Yes. Jeremy, we were pretty good at wrecking.

Ah ha! You have to admit that you did some pretty impressive wrecking yourself.

Yes. Li'l Bro. But I grew up and you are still … I smirked, nine.

Oh, that's cold.

But true.

I will admit it … but cold nonetheless.

We studied our cart. So longer bolts? Do you think that will do it?

We can try. Then I'll take it for another test drive.

We worked silently for awhile. Jeremy and I, though as different as night and day, had always rubbed along well together. It was like we were two halves of a whole.

Building go-carts – and other cool stuff – was not our career. We inherited Dad's furniture store. But whereas, Dad sold furniture, Jeremy and I built it. The store carried standard pieces, but what got us really excited was the back section of the store with furniture we had designed and hand-crafted. We took pride in our one-of-a-kind furniture. We generally started with basic designs and then branched out from there; each item was unique. Customers were delighted that when they bought furniture from the BB section (Bitner Brothers), they would never see its duplication. Occasionally, when pressed, we also built and installed cabinets or other on-location items.

But our side-line – backyard play areas – were what made life fun: the pirate ships and castles, the mazes and stage coaches, the forts and caves, the play houses and tree houses, all with lots of climbing and swinging and balancing and spinning opportunities, were where we got our kicks. We did have a strong aversion to the molded plastic playground equipment; our materials were wood and rock and rope, acrylic and crystal; and on a couple of occasions, water. And finally there were the go-carts for all ages.

Just as the sun was going down, we packed up our tools for the day. Jeremy lived in a condo in a moderately upscale part of town. I was currently living in an apartment, with plans to buy a house … eventually.

Hey Bro! Jeremy called over his shoulder, Remember you were going to check out the house on your way home.

I slapped a hand to my forehead, Oh, man. I forgot. Are you sure you can't go?

Jeremy grinned, No can do. I have a date with a Cinda. Remember? And if I recall, you have nothing going … no date, no friends, no …

Okay okay. I'll stop by, but I think I'm going to drop my stuff off at home first. Then I'll go out for my rip-roaring night on the town by stopping by at the house.

Better you than me. I still can't figure out that house business. Talk about convoluted, mismanaged, bizarre … Jeremy's signature grin was firmly in place. Need I go on?

Nope. And this is one time I am in total agreement. Whatever was Great Uncle Sylvester thinking? In fact, I figure he was in ga-ga land when he penned his will. First of all, who writes their own wills these days, without benefit of some pricey attorney? And why us? Neither of us even knew the guy existed. And then we sort of inherit a house …

A money trap most likely. Jeremy steepled his hands and posed as one in deep thought, his voice taking on the sonorous tones of a television preacher or a mortician. "I can see it now. You will walk up the crumbling, uneven walk … crumbling and uneven because the mammoth elm trees … or are they oak … because the crumbling elm trees … oh, wait, the trees aren't crumbling, although I