The Inheritance: A Novel

By JK Miller

Ivory Bainbridge thought she had it all figured out. On the cusp of achieving her dream career of owning a restaurant and bar in the heart of Chicago, the only thing standing in her way is debt. Then life throws her a curveball.

 

When she mysteriously inherits a farmhouse at the end of a road in Missouri, she is thrust into a world of beliefs she doesn't understand. 

 

Selling the property will pay her mounting debt and give her enough extra to make a down payment on her dream. Could this be the big break she needs? 

 

Standing in her way is a catch: she has to live on the property for six months. But Lisa McHale, the resentful granddaughter of her benefactor, is going to make sure she doesn't.

 

As Ivory navigates life in an unfamiliar world, why do strangers keep showing up at her door, all for the same reason? And who is the eccentric elderly woman who befriends her? This odd woman and her wisdom with plants and herbs might hold the key to understanding why Ivory, an outsider, was chosen to inherit.

 

Is she truly an outsider, or does she belong in this quaint town more than she ever could have imagined?

 

Follow Ivory on her journey from big city life to unfamiliar rural isolation, during which she realizes she has inherited far more than just an old house outside a small town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Five Feline Farm Press
• Release date: Nov 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223416265

Book preview

Chapter One

Y es, Chef! Ivory shouted out her confirmation with the rest of her fellow kitchen crew. She had been daydreaming about the menu she would create for her own future restaurant when Chef Stan’s instructions caught her attention. The kitchen had to execute each dish flawlessly, as they were expecting the Michelin evaluators for their lunch service any day. Ivory glanced at Olivia Remington, who was expertly working on the garnishes next to her, and gave her a sly smile - with one eyebrow raised in a mischievous expression. Olivia shook her head in return, both believing there was no way anyone from Michelin would discover this out-of-the-way place in Chicago. Although they served good food, Ivory knew this restaurant was a stepping-stone for her. A place where she could earn some money while making essential connections in the industry and paying off her student loans. While they continued their assigned tasks, Ivory’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket for the third time that day.

Geez, leave me alone.

What have I done now? Olivia asked.

Ivory replied, No, not you. My phone just buzzed. I’ve had like three calls today from some random place in Missouri. It's probably spam, but it’s odd because it’s always the same number. I thought scammers use different numbers.

I thought maybe it was Stefan you’re ignoring, Olivia said, giving her a knowing look. Did they leave a voicemail? You know, one of those saying you’ve won the Nigerian lottery if you will only wire them a few thousand dollars?

Ivory laughed. "In fact, there have been voicemails but not from Stefan. They say they’re from an attorney’s office and need to speak with me.

Olivia frowned and pointed her knife at Ivory. When we take a break, I want to hear one of these voicemails. What if the FBI is looking for you? I better watch my back.

Ivory sighed as she rolled her eyes at Olivia. After three years of dating Stefan, she had broken it off. She wanted a deep emotional connection and a family. His idea of a good time was to read the financial column. With her long hours at the restaurant, it left little energy to look for anyone new, and she was enjoying her newfound freedom. Waving her knife back at Olivia, she said, I’m relieved to be single again.

Suddenly, Chef Stan’s voice pierced her musings, making her jump. She hadn’t heard him approach from behind.

Ivory! Stan barked. I need more basil. Where is it? They should have delivered it this morning.

Yes, Chef! she said before scurrying to the pantry. Ivory scrambled to find the basil, cursing the delivery company under her breath. The chef hadn’t earned her respect because of his relentless bad behavior, but she still acknowledged his authority in the kitchen as she worked quickly. His tyranny made her wish all the more she owned her own restaurant.

As Ivory searched for the basil, she muttered to herself. I hope that attorney is calling from Publisher’s Clearing House and I can ditch this place. Grabbing the basil, she returned to her station.

Is there some reason I do not have the vegetables for this order yet? The chef barked.

No, Chef. Coming right up, Chef, Ivory tripped as she hustled to respond.

I’m not paying you to stand around and stare into space. Or to gossip, he said, his glare also falling on Olivia.

You’re barely paying us at all, Olivia retorted as Stan turned his back.

Ivory smiled at Olivia and nodded in agreement. She said nothing and focused on preparing Tuscan-style roasted asparagus to accompany the Chef’s Choice Swordfish entrée. She put the thought of the attorney’s voicemail out of her mind and did what she could to deliver an exceptional side dish. Stan’s menu might not be enough to draw the attention of Michelin evaluators, but she had a sense of pride in knowing her cooking was excellent.

As they neared the end of the lunch service, Ivory’s phone buzzed again. Pulling it from her pocket, she saw it was the same number from Missouri. Mouthing to Olivia, "It’s them again."

Hello? she said hesitantly.

Is this Ivory Bainbridge? a male voice asked.

Yes, this is she.

Miss Bainbridge, this is Tad Simons, attorney with Simons, Frank, and Simons in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. I’m sorry to keep calling, but I really need to speak with you today.

Ivory shifted into protective mode. She was about to find out why an attorney had been so eager to talk to her, and she would not let him talk her into anything suspicious. Especially one from a place in Missouri she had barely heard of and needed a map to find. It sounded like one of those little places where people rode around in pickup trucks all day.

Excuse me, where? she said.

Poplar Bluff, Missouri, ma’am, Mr. Simons responded.

I’ve never heard of it.

Mr. Simons chuckled. I get that a lot. We’re in South Eastern Missouri about a hundred and fifty miles south of St. Louis.

Um, ok. Ivory couldn’t think of anything else to say. Poplar Bluff must be at least seven or eight hours from her Chicago apartment. What business would an attorney from there have with her? There was no way she had done anything wrong in that area of the world to warrant a call from an attorney. Ivory shook her head to clear the thoughts and focused on Mr. Simons.

I’m sorry; what did you say? Had he said something about someone dying?

I’m notifying you of the death of Ruby Tompkins. She was an interesting lady, and I enjoyed our time together. I know this is a surprise.

That was an understatement.

Ruby Tompkins? I’m sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else; I don’t know a Ruby Tompkins in Missouri.

"You are Ivory Bainbridge, correct?"

Yes.

Then I have the correct person. Ruby Tompkins, from Landow Creek, Missouri, has passed and left you as an heir in her will. I have scheduled the formal reading of the will in our offices for Tuesday, March 12th. Can you make it?

Wait a minute. Who is, or was Ruby Tompkins? Why would she even know who I am let alone leave me anything?

That will become clear in time.

What if I don’t have the time to take off work?

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

I understand how difficult it may be to digest this news. But I assure you, Mrs. Tompkins was very clear and left me your name and phone number.

How did she get that? This is getting more weird by the second.

Now that I can’t tell you. All I know is she listed you as an heir and gave me this number to contact. Please try to make arrangements with your work. I assure you, Mrs. Tompkins has left you a potentially sizable inheritance.

Now he had her attention. A sizable inheritance. Maybe I could switch days off with Olivia and see if this is legit. What’s the worst that could happen? I walk in, they take one look at me and realize they made a big mistake. But what if?

What do you mean sizable inheritance?

I cannot disclose the details until the formal reading of the will.

Ivory blinked and looked at the brick wall in the alley they used as a break room trying to make a decision. Why not? A trip to nowhere in Missouri next week for the reading of the will of a stranger.

I still think you have the wrong person, but if it will help clear things up, I’ll see if I can take a day off and come down there.

I appreciate that, Miss Bainbridge, and I believe you will find it worth your time. My secretary will overnight more information to you, confirming the date, time, and address.

After disconnecting, she stared at the grimy wall. Despite her efforts, she could recall no one from Missouri or the name Ruby Tompkins. Having been abandoned at St. Emiliani soon after her birth, Ivory had been cared for and watched over by Sister Jean Robert until she graduated from high school. When she was in grade school, she had asked the nun more than once about her parents and how she came to be at the orphanage. With a gentle hand on her shoulder, Sister Jean Robert had said, Ivory, God will be your father and Mary will be your mother. It was not a satisfying answer then or now, but the only one she would receive. After years of no concrete answers, she gave up on knowing anything about the circumstances of her birth and instead, she kept busy with work. There was no point endlessly pondering the past. Her goals were in the future, owning a tapas bar where no one would dictate her menu. She imagined a place where people would crowd in, restaurant critics would recommend it in their swanky columns, and she would rake in the money.

Not a bad dream for an orphan.

Now, she had to contend with the possibility of a past.

Chapter Two

Ivory flung open the restaurant's back door and grabbed a clean apron from the stack. La Nourriture was a sleek, modern establishment, with gleaming stainless steel counters, top-of-the-line appliances, and expertly organized stations for each preparation area. The kitchen hummed with activity as cooks raced to put together the multitude of dishes on the dinner menu. She loved the adrenaline rush of cooking under pressure and was eager to show her skills. Adjusting her sous chef beanie which denoted her low rank in the kitchen, she reminded herself it wouldn’t always be this way. One day, hopefully in the not-too-distant future, she would wear the white toque of a chef de cuisine. On her right, Olivia sliced huge stacks of celery and mounds of broccoli with expert precision. Both of them kept their eyes on slicing, chopping, and dicing ingredients for their mise en place. The warm mix of cinnamon and brown sugar from the pastry station wafted through the air, making Ivory’s mouth water, even though she had a large bowl of tomato bisque during her break.

Upon sharing with Olivia the news from the call with Tad Simons, Ivory found herself at the end of a stalk of celery, Olivia was pointing for emphasis.

You can’t be serious. No one gets a call out of the blue with an unexpected inheritance.

He sounded for real, Ivory said, trying not to laugh. She was used to Olivia’s theatrics. They had been working together in the heat and steam of La Nourriture’s kitchen for two years. Olivia started six months before Ivory and helped her navigate the often cutthroat kitchen politics. The celery stopped mid-wave as Olivia processed what Ivory had just said.

Really? Do you think he was being authentic? I don’t understand why anyone would do that, but if it’s true, when do we hear the will? He gave you a date?

The 12th.

Oh man! I need to do something with my hair first! And then find something nice to wear!

Ivory smiled at Olivia’s rising excitement. They both knew she was not riding along, but she always had a flair for the dramatic.

Actually, I need to see if you can switch days off so I can go.

Hang on a minute. Olivia trotted to the schedule tacked to the bulletin board by Chef Stan’s office door. It’s no good, she said as she returned to her station next to Ivory. The whole crew is scheduled that day.

Dang it. What am I going to do?

They both turned back to their tasks as the chef wandered through the kitchen monitoring their work and interrupting the conversation.

Ivory’s heart skipped a beat at the idea of inheriting something, anything. It would be the perfect way to dig herself out of the financial mess she had created and maybe even get closer to her dream tapas bar. As excited as she was, shame about the amount of her debt kept her from disclosing too much, even to her best friend. Olivia thought she had it all together with a tidy savings toward her dream.

Okay, Olivia conceded, picking up the conversation after the chef had returned to his office. "Let’s just say it is real. What exactly did you inherit? Do you know the dollar amount?"

Ivory sighed, shaking her head. No. He just said I had to come to Poplar Bluff next Tuesday for the reading of the will. I guess I’ll have to wait until then to find out what I’m getting from this mysterious benefactor, if I can figure out a way to get off work. Chef isn’t always the most understanding person when it comes to personal issues.

No, he isn’t. Now Olivia faced Ivory with a mischievous grin. You are going to be sick. Something awful that he can’t have in the kitchen. Violent diarrhea, projectile vomiting. I’ll tell him I talked to you early that morning and you sounded awful.

Ivory turned from her workstation to face Olivia.

Are you serious? You would cover for me?

Sure, why not? I like a good bit of intrigue.

Thank you so much. I’m going to drive down early that morning, hear the reading of the will, then drive back the next day. I might have to be sick a couple of days. she said with air quotes around the word ‘sick’. I’ll tell you all the details the minute I get back.

You bet you will. Every dirty little detail about this Long-Lost-What’s-Her-Name-Hiding-in-Missouri.

Every dirty detail. Ivory agreed.

When you are rich, don’t forget about me. I’ll come be your sous chef in your restaurant. Heck, I’ll even be your personal chef at home, if you want. Dabbing tears of laughter from her eyes, Olivia reignited her quest to find a new boyfriend for Ivory.

I’m going to set you up on eharmony when you get back.

Good Lord, Olivia. How many times do I have to tell you, I’m fine being single.

"Fine? Really? I think you need someone to love and someone who loves you. A blood deep relationship as an anchor."

It was not like Olivia to be so deep and thoughtful, but her insight struck a chord. Ivory longed for the type of connection to someone that was not simply a transactional relationship.

And you think I’ll find that on a dating site?

Maybe, maybe not, but you won’t know unless you try.

Those sites scare me. You never know what people are putting on the internet.

Ok, I’ll introduce you to my cousin Alfred. He’s only been in jail twice for fraud. Maybe one time was for assault, I don’t remember.

Looking up from the carrots on her cutting board, she could see Olivia was joking.

I really don’t need…

Ivory did not get to finish her sentence. The kitchen door swung open with a bang, causing them to jump. Stan had the look of a man on a mission. There would be no more idle conversation with the chef in the kitchen. Ivory exchanged a knowing look with Olivia, and their only words for the rest of the evening were, Yes, Chef.

By the end of the shift, Ivory was too exhausted to revisit her explanation about why she didn’t want to be on a dating site. That would have to wait for another day.

Chapter Three

Aweek later, Ivory found herself singing to the radio for hours during the first boring stretch of her drive to Poplar Bluff. It was hard to keep from being lulled into a stupor after St. Louis by the repetitive layered pattern on the bluffs that graced each side of the highway. Here they cut Interstate 55 through rolling hills of sandstone that still bore blast marks from its original creation. After she exited the interstate, the route passed through small villages, tiny spots of civilization anchored to bluffs beside the river. Miles would pass before another outpost of humanity rose from the hills. Glancing at the map on her dash screen, trying to follow the twists and dips to find the correct county roads leading to the lawyer’s office, she nearly ran off the road. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white as she neared Poplar Bluff.

How do people live out here?

The rough bricks of North Main Street, rattled her windows as she took in the view of town. Wide spaces of greening lawn in between well-kept houses were exactly what she expected in rural America. No doubt, everyone here knew every one else’s name and most of their private business. Following the directions offered by the disembodied GPS voice, Ivory slowed as she approached her destination.

Double-checking the address, Ivory pulled into one of the parallel parking places in front of what appeared to be a beautiful single family home. Only the bronze plaque beside the front door gave away this was now the office of Simons, Frank, and Simons, Attorneys at Law. Glancing at her watch, she had five minutes to spare which she used to run a hairbrush through her shoulder-length blond hair, check her makeup, then headed into the building.

Pushing open the heavy wooden entry door, the interior opened into a spacious hallway, flanked by doors on either side. The only open one was to the right, revealing what had likely been a formal sitting room when the house was still a home. From the hallway, a marble fireplace was visible with the now defunct firebox holding a gigantic dieffenbachia in a gorgeous pot. Chairs lined the wall in front of the window to the street and the receptionist desk anchored the opposite corner positioned to offer Mrs. Faye Powers, according to the name plate on the desk, a clear view of anyone approaching the office.

Stepping into the room, Ivory paused for a long second until Mrs. Powers acknowledged her. Raising her eyebrows, when Ivory gave her name, the receptionist waved her to the row of chairs.

I’ll tell Mr. Simons you’ve arrived, She said in a clipped, no nonsense tone while adjusting the reading glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. Even without looking up, Ivory felt the receptionist watching her from the corner of her eye, so she arranged herself in the chair with what she hoped was an air of indifference. 

Thank you for coming, Miss Bainbridge, Tad Simons rumbled in a low bass voice, as he appeared in the doorway and dropped a folder on the reception desk. Please follow me.

The scent of patchouli tickled her nose as she walked behind and squeezed past him as he held open the door. Attorneys in this part of the world were much different than what she expected. Tad Simons was tall and lanky, his button down blue shirt with sleeves rolled up contrasted with his tie that boasted the SEMO Redhawks logo. Apparently suit jackets were not necessary in the office. Motioning her toward a seat