Granny's Greatest Secret

The thumping of Jane and Fred’s boots rang louder than their mourning hearts. Grandma’s porch was icier than usual, and threatened the pair of twins a great slipping ordeal ahead.

Straining under the light weight of cardboard boxes piled in his hands, Fred complained aloud to his sister.

“You’d think Grandma is haunting the cottage,” he said, regarding the ice.

Jane rolled her eyes at her brother’s antics, and fished within her pocket for the set of keys.

“It’s only been a week since she died,” Jane scolded. “Can we please not crack jokes yet?”

Sucking in a breath of air, as he came to a stop beside Jane, the taller boy loosed a sigh and responded with, “Ease up, Janie. Grandma would slap you upside the head for pouting in front of her petunias.”

Jane only briefly glanced at the frost-riddled flowers to her right, before rolling her eyes again. She then fiddled the keys into the hole, and gently nudged the old door open.

The deafening silence welcomed the twins for the first time—a stark contrast to their grandmother’s usual warm welcome. Even the inside of the cottage was colder than usual.

Jane and Fred stood there for a moment, and took in the sights of the quiet cottage with saddened eyes. Even Fred—the ever-witty boy he was—remained silent. It was, in fact, Jane who made the first move.

“It’s going to take forever to pack all of her stuff up,” she said. “It also feels…wrong, in a way. You know what I mean?”

Shrugging, and stepping past, Fred entered the kitchen. He placed the boxes down on the table, and began opening them.

“It is wrong, but that’s just what happens when old women don’t sign their wills,” he explained, sarcastically.

“You mean curious men in suits show up and demand we ransack our grandmother’s house?” Jane questioned back.

What she said was birthed from truth. After their grandmother had died, interesting individuals had begun showing up in their lives—asking for the house to be cleared out, and that they had the right to do so. “Government business”, as one had declared.

All Jane received in response from her brother was a pointed finger in the shape of a gun. He barely looked up from what he was doing, as he continued preparing the boxes.

“For an archaeologist, it sure is strange that she didn’t have a will of sorts,” Fred remarked.

“Well, Grandma was a strange person,” Jane sighed, as she placed her hands on her hips. “She always was talking about the weirdest of things, regarding treasure and whatnot.”

“That’s Grandma for you,” Fred sighed back.

He stood away from the readied boxes, and studied them. A tired glint was evident in his eyes. It was highly apparent that Fred’s humorous front was slipping in the wake of his grandmother’s death. They were all very close, you see—the last family either had left. They often referred to themselves as the “Three Musketeers”.

Well, now there were only two left. But that’s not to say the adventure was over just yet.

“Well,” Jane pressed on, “where in the house should we start?”

Fred threw his eyes upwards, and regarded the ceiling. His own hands were on his hips—unconsciously mirroring his sister.

“She always had the weirdest stuff in the attic,” he began. “Perhaps we should start there? Dibs not doing it, though!”

Groaning and rolling her head, Jane glared at her brother. She thought of the many spiders above, and resented the idea greatly. Alas, the attic was indeed the best place to start. Trust Fred to not get his hands dirty.

“Fine,” she growled, grabbing a box, “but you’re cleaning out her pantry. Enjoy decade-old expired goods.”

Feigning offence, Fred placed a hand over his heart. He pouted (not in front of the petunias) and stuck out his lower lip, before responding with, “You wound me.”

“You’ll recover,” Jane huffed.

Walking away, Jane tucked the cardboard box under her arm. She then headed down the vintage hallway of her grandmother’s cottage, until she made it to the middle. Reaching up, she pulled on a string, to which a ladder folded out from the roof, and exposed the attic above.

Without thinking twice, the young woman began climbing up. She ignored the thought of spiders at the back of her mind, and soon crawled her way into a standing position.

Knowing the attic well, from the many times she played as a child with Fred in there growing up, Jane tugged on another string. This time, the globes lining the arched roof lit up. Immediately, the dusty area was illuminated in a warm glow.

Miscellaneous items were scattered throughout the attic. There was an old piano, furniture and trinkets from all over the world.

Pursing her lips, Jane studied the area with her own tired gaze. Landing her eyes on a nearby cupboard, Jane decided to rummage through the drawers. She figured something of value might have been kept within. You see, Grandma always kept her most precious items folded up in clothes within drawers.

The twins never knew why, however.

Sliding a few open, Jane found nothing but outdated clothes. She felt her heart grow heavier, for the lingering scent of lavender clung to the fabric—her grandmother’s trademark scent.

Exhaling past her nose, Jane closed a few drawers, only to then open others. Upon pulling one back, however, an odd shuffling noise from within the drawer caught her attention. It sounded like leather scraping against wood.

Odd, Jane thought. She knitted her brows, and tossed a few articles of clothing around. However, her brows soon raised in shock, as she found the culprit responsible for the noise.

There, laying at the bottom of the drawer, was an odd book. It appeared to be a notebook, of sorts, and was dark in colour—black, to be accurate. A small string of a shiny silver wrapped it closed, but Jane was too curious to not investigate further.

Uncoiling the silver string, Jane tentatively opened the notebook. She instantly recognised her grandmother’s handwriting on the first page. With a thumping heart, Jane realized what she had found.

It was her grandmother’s hidden will.

Soft words of encouragement for both Jane and Fred to continue her work was inked within the yellowed pages. Other words—more vulgar in tune—cursed the mysterious men in expensive suits.

Stunning Jane most, however, was what was stapled to the bottom of the will—three things, actually.

A cheque for $20,000, two plane tickets for both her and her brother to Spain, and an old map.

Jane didn’t even take into account her uneven breathing, gaping mouth or thumping heart. All she could do, was stare down at the page in shock.

When she found her voice again, the first word that came to mind was her brother’s name.

“Fred?” she hoarsely called. “Freddie!”

A series of thumps could be heard from down below, and not before long, Fred climbed up the ladder.

“Are you all right?” he asked, breathlessly.

All he received in response, was the gaping stare of Jane, as she turned the notebook around for him to see. It took Fred a few moments to register what his eyes were looking at, but when he did, he couldn’t resist raising his own brows in shock.

“Is that—” he attempted to say.

“It is,” Jane confirmed.

Slowly, a wide grin began to break out across Fred’s face. He shared an adventurous look with his sister, and could almost hear the guitars of Spain strumming in the distance.

“Oh, we are so boarding that plane and cashing that cheque…” was all he said.

And that they most certainly did, with the notebook tucked away into their suitcases, as well as the map, and $20,000 in cash.