2. Kacen
KACEN
The bed of my truck was loaded embarrassingly high with neatly stacked boxes that I strapped down to keep from moving. It was getting windy and I was getting nervous, but according to my GPS, I was almost there.
And really, if any of the crap I’d packed didn’t make it to Grandpa’s, then I probably didn’t need it anyway.
The homes I’d inherited were a few hours outside the city, just far enough away that it felt like being in the country.
The trees grew closer together and the houses were farther apart.
When I finally arrived, I turned onto the gravel road and soaked it all in.
I hadn’t been here since I was a kid, but it looked exactly the same.
And I didn’t mean that in a good way. On the contrary, it looked like no improvements had been made in decades. The road was rutted and full of potholes that kept me watching my mirror to make sure none of my boxes ended up on the ground.
It was sad that the first time I was back to this property was after my grandpa had passed.
My mom and Grandpa had some falling out that I didn’t know much about, so I hadn’t seen him in a very long time.
That was why it was even more surprising when I was pulled aside by an attorney after his funeral and told he’d left me everything.
It took a few weeks for me to truly accept what that meant, but then I was given some paperwork to sign and a set of keys.
Keys to his house and the homes I now owned but were rented out to long-term tenants.
It was a shock, but I accepted the instructions on how to access all of his accounts and copies of the lease agreements for his tenants without a true grasp on what that would mean.
Because like it or not, I was suddenly a landlord.
I hadn’t expected to own a house anytime soon, much less several of them that provided a generous cash flow every month.
According to the bank statements I downloaded, the monthly rent payments were enough for me to live pretty comfortably without working at all.
And that wasn’t including the interest on his investments.
Grandpa was savvy, it seemed. Though you wouldn’t know it by looking around.
A rush of nostalgia hit me as I parked beside Grandpa’s old truck. The house looked smaller than I remembered, but it had good bones. A few cans of paint would go a long way to cleaning it up to something I’d be comfortable in.
There were several houses and trailers spread along the property, but I’d deal with the tenants later.
First, I needed to take a piss. I pulled out the key I was given and unlocked the front door.
The smell of coffee and old man hit me like a brick wall, but there were also memories attached to those scents that made me wish I’d come to visit him even once before it was too late.
He must have been so lonely in that sad house.
After opening all the doors and windows to air the place out, I started unloading my truck.
I dropped the first box right inside the front door and went back for the rest. It didn’t take long to unload everything I owned, and I was glad I didn’t bring more stuff.
The house was full of furniture he’d built or fixed over the years, so I’d probably have to get rid of all the stuff I put in storage when I cleaned out my apartment.
Grandpa had restored furniture for most of his life, and I could easily see that all the wood pieces throughout the downstairs were definitely his work.
Which reminded me that his workshop was out back.
So after dropping my suitcase in the big bedroom upstairs, I went outside to check it out.
The windows were fogged over with years of dust grime, but that didn’t stop a wave of emotion from flooding me.
Inside these dingy walls was where I could feel my grandpa’s presence the strongest. When I was a kid, I spent hours on the bench under the window, just watching him work.
I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.
Instead, I spent all of my adult life in front of a computer, doing jobs that would’ve made Grandpa cringe. He’d never held a job in his life, creating his impressive fortune by building works of art with his calloused hands.
As a few tears dripped down my cheeks, I felt the fabric of my shirt soaking up the warm milk leaking from my chest. Fuck. I wasn’t usually the emotional type, but whenever I was, a letdown was quick to follow.
I went back inside and jumped in the shower to hand express the milk before changing into clean clothes.
I was hungry and tired…and I needed to introduce myself to the tenants at some point before they called the police because they saw a trespasser in their landlord’s house.
I assumed the lawyer had notified them about the change of ownership, but I wasn’t sure, and I needed them to each sign new leases with my name on them.
The lawyer had given me a quick rundown on each of the tenants, but he didn’t know much about them on a personal level. What he did know was that they were all current on their rent, they didn’t seem to cause any trouble, and they were all in leases that could easily be transferred to me.
Apparently, that was all I needed to know.
Grandpa wasn’t particularly chatty, so my guess was that he probably collected rent and made repairs when needed, but that was the extent of his relationship with his tenants.
But that wasn’t my style.
I was more of a people person, and I was actually excited to have a reason to meet my neighbors. Planning cookouts and yard sales sounded like the perfect way to spend an afternoon, and I was looking forward to becoming friends with each and every one of them.