The Inheritance

Amy Johnson slowly walked up the concrete steps of the imposing twenty-five story office building in downtown Chicago.  There were other, much taller buildings surrounding her, but this structure was higher than anything she’d seen before today.  The skyline of Atlanta she witnessed in the morning was impressive, but feeling protected within the familiarity of her mother’s car at a secure distance kept it from being intimidating.  Now, although she was seventeen years old and less than two months away from starting her senior year of high school, she held her mother’s hand out of utter fear.

Becky Johnson used her right hand to pull herself up the stairs with the aid of one of the six, gold-plated brass rails.  With her left hand she assisted her daughter, and she felt Amy’s angst.  Becky was quite confused as well, along with being very anxious, but she tried not to let Amy sense her discomfort.

As they ascended Amy glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of the rear of the taxi which transported them from O’Hare airport after their bumpy, two-hour flight from the South.  As she turned, someone in a window across the street quickly snapped several pictures of the young lady’s profile in a flurry similar to what occurred when the two females exited the vehicle only moments before.  The sight of the cab leaving made Amy wonder if they were being abandoned, and her heart skipped a beat.  If she only knew about the camera, her heart might stop completely.

It was ten minutes before four o’clock on this pleasant and at times gusty summer afternoon.  Only a few people exited the building, and they did so at a much quicker pace, clearly with a purpose to their step.  Amy wasn’t certain if this was normal for a Wednesday, and her mother didn’t care.

Along with her anxiety, Becky was frustrated with the travel agenda forced upon her by the man responsible for Amy’s existence and the financial well-being of the pair.  She thought a large deposit into her bank account would be easier and more appropriate.  Milton Hughes more than adequately provided for Becky these last twenty years, and it wasn’t clear how things would change now that he was dead.