A Fool’s Inheritance – Fiction by South African Writer, Luke Beling

The idea was simple. We’d relocate to Hawaii, my wife, me, and my in-laws, and tag-team the cost of an exuberant home purchase. We’d had enough big-city living. My in-laws decided on Hawaii for their retirement, offering to put our inheritance in a new house together, fronting a little more than seventy-five percent of the full cash offer. We’d narrowed it down to five homes and decided to make the call over an expensive Italian dinner.

The dimly lit, red-brick joint displayed black and white framed photos of opera singers, men in hats smoking cigars, and fresh produce spread out on wooden cutting boards.

“Complimentary bread?” Our waitress gestured, looking very Italian herself, olive-skinned, the dress’s neckline covering her chest, as she stood at least two inches taller in her sleek, black stilettos.

“With extra basil,” Janice, my mother-in-law, requested.

I pulled out my phone as soon as our waitress turned for the kitchen, then opened the showing for the home Mary and I loved. I moved the vase holding a red rose, setting my phone on the table so my in-laws could see the listing. “We think this is the one right here. No doubts about it.”

Mary glanced at me with her don’t-put-your-foot-in-your-mouth expression.

“Oh, not this one! I’m not fond of the detached living area at all!”

“I am,” I mumbled.

Mary kicked my shin.

“And there’s no space for a garden!”

“We’d like a small garden,” Barry, my father-in-law, remarked softly, his eyes on Janice the entire time.

“This is the one we love.” Janice set her phone next to mine, swiping her screen with giant finger strokes, scrolling through the images.

“I do like the garden,” I said. “And the pool.”

“Well, we’d probably replace…”

“Hush, Barry,” Janice barked, slapping her husband on the wrist before he could finish his sentence. “It’s a beautiful house, and look at all the space!”

“I’m not sure about sharing a kitchen, though,” I said.

Mary gently set her palm on my hand. “We’ll just need to establish some boundaries, that’s all, right? Mom? Dad?”

The waitress returned with the bread and the extra basil.

“This isn’t the proper kind,” Janice mumbled as she pinched the basil in her fingertips. “The real Italian kind is much bigger and more of a medium dark green.”

“Well, we better inform them right away! God forbid they give us the wrong basil!”

“Steven!” Mary slapped my hand.

“What?” I smiled, landing my eyes on Mary’s cold stare. The young waitress stood with her hands behind her back, smiling awkwardly.

“I think we’re ready to order,” I said, attempting to disarm the mildly tense situation.

“Speak for yourself, Steven!” Janice growled.

“Didn’t know we were ordering custom continentals here!”

“Steven!” Mary exclaimed again, squeezing my thigh.

The waitress set the menus back on the table. “How about I give you folks a few more minutes?”

“Yes, that would be good, thank you,” Barry replied, placing his palm over Janice’s hand.

“If you don’t want to share a home with us, just come out and tell us, Steven.” Janice slid her hand from under Barry’s grip and drove her palms into the table as though she was about to do a pushup.

“Now, come on now. That’s not it at all. I’m just looking for a little diplomacy here.” I narrowed my eyes on Mary, hoping she’d say something, but she didn’t.

I grabbed Janice’s phone and scrolled through the photos of their desired house. “Well, how about we put a door at the top of the stairs? Just to give us a little feeling of our own space, you know? I do love this garden; very tropical and lush.”

Janice’s red blouse pressed tight against her forearms as she continued pushing her palms into the table. “Well, damn it. You…”

“A door sounds perfectly fine, Steven.” Barry began rubbing Janice’s back. “A beautiful garden, I agree, very shangri-la looking, isn’t it?”

“You folks ready to order?” Our waitress returned with another basket of bread.

“Just give me the parmesan chicken. You do serve that, right?” Janice moved back in her seat, slouching with a loss in her eyes.

“I guess I’ll have that too,” said Barry, his hand still moving back and forth on his wife’s back.

“One of the most popular items on the menu!” the young waitress offered.

“Me too.” I handed her my menu.

“And you, ma’am?”

Mary possessed such calm during any big decisions we’d have to make, but come something minor and insignificant, like what to order at the local Italian joint, she’d turn into a nervous wreck.

“I bet you’ll love the chicken, Honey.” I gently grabbed her menu, tugging it upward.

“Do you mind!?” She snapped, showing me something fierce in her eyes, and then she looked up at our waitress. “How’s the risotto?”

“Best on the island.”

“I bet you say that about every dish,” I mumbled, unafraid of aiming my frustration at the young girl.

“You’re in such a sour mood tonight, aren’t you, Steven?” Janice moved the salt and pepper to lock her cold eyes on me.

I made two fists under the table, squeezed until I felt weak, then stood up and touched the waitress on the shoulder. “I’m sorry for my rude comment, Ma’am.”

She smiled and giggled nervously.

“Mind pointing me to the restroom?”

“Right over there by that Pavarotti photo.”

I’d been practicing ten minutes of daily deliberate silence for over a month to deal with stress and anxiety. I sat on the toilet, my pants still raised, and leaned forward with closed eyes, chin on my fists. The idea was to become a passive observer of everything entering and exiting one’s mind. I felt the rage begin to grip my body, a wave of anger mainly directed at Janice, and then I simply let it go, watching it as though observing a neighbor walking his dog. When I returned to our table, I looked at all of them and smiled.

“Feel better,” Mary asked, clutching my hand gently.

“Much… I’m sorry for being a little difficult, everybody. It’s just that it’s a big decision.”

Janice handed me her phone, swiping the screen with giant strokes again. “If you’ll just look at this one again…”

I nudged my palm into her phone, gesturing for her to take it back. “It’s okay. I’ve made my decision.”

“You have?” They all said in unison.

I picked up Mary’s hand and placed it between mine, moving my eyes to Barry and Janice. “I think this is the one.”

“You do?” Janice exclaimed.

“Yes, but you and Barry should front the entire purchase. In that way, everybody gets what they want.”

“What!?” Mary shouted, snatching her hand from my grasp.

“And then we’ll get the top unit?”

“Sure, it’d be your house, Janice.”

Janice and Barry looked at each other, whispering.

Then they stood up with their hands outstretched. “Deal!”

“Wait a minute, how can you guys even afford that?” Mary put her arm between us, blocking any chance of a handshake.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Janice said, smirking.

“It’s a perfect idea, my love,” I told Mary. “That bottom unit will be a little tight initially, but we’ll grow into it. And for the price of being mortgage-free!” I smiled, but Mary didn’t smile back.

“We could try it out for a year. If it doesn’t work, we’ll have enough saved to buy a place of our own.”

“Or sell and buy another house and move in together,” Barry added.

All three of us stared at Mary, waiting for her approval.

“I guess it’ll be a nice way to save some money and give us time to find a place of our own.”

“Or buy a bigger place together,” Barry said again.

Just then, our conversation was briefly interrupted by the arrival of the chicken parmesan. The waitress held a strained grin as the hot plates piled up her arm perfectly still, red lines painting the plates’ circumference on her olive skin.

“The risotto will be right out, ma’am.”

Barry, Jane, and I looked at each other as the steam from our hot plates hit our noses, waiting on Mary’s risotto before eating.

“It’s okay, go ahead, you guys,” Mary eventually offered.

“Sure?”

“Of course,” Mary said, smiling with a relieved expression.

When the waitress returned with the risotto, Mary whispered something into her ear, and then the young girl disappeared, quickly returning with a bottle of Dom Perignon.

“A toast to our new home!” Mary shouted, passing the generous glasses of champagne to us as quickly as the waitress had finished pouring.

“So it’s a yes?” Janice questioned.

Clutching my hand, Mary looked at me, beaming. “Yes! Let’s do it!”

***

The bottom unit was alright; more spacious than the photos revealed. The only trouble was the stairs leading up to Jane and Barry’s kitchen, not the stairs themselves, but rather the lack of a door at the top. Janice threw a fit when I came home one day with a door and a set of tools. “If you put a door up, Steven, you might as well find a place of your own!”

So I left it alone. As a result, Janice and Barry went up and down the stairs as they pleased, sitting down with us at almost every family movie night, spectating Mary’s and my Friday night chess matches, and eating dinner with us nightly without fail.

It was a week before Janice and Barry’s departure for their Italian vacation when the idea came to me. I’d kept a private calendar in my journal, crossing off the days for three months before their trip. Turning to Mary, hours before the morning light, I whispered, “I know what I’m going to do.”

“About what?” she mumbled.

“Your mom and dad. The door.”

“Just forget it already. Another year and we’ll have enough to buy our own place.”

“I’m going to get James to give me an audit.”

Mary rolled over, grabbing my shoulders. “What!?”

“He’ll draw up something for me stating we need to put a door up for our space to qualify as my home office. They’ll have to understand that.”

“James McDermot? I remember him being very nosy. What happens when he finds out we’re cheating on our taxes by claiming that home office?”

“I won’t tell him anything about who owns the house and who pays what.”

Mary turned back on her side, curling her body. But then she quickly came back to me, whispering. “If they ever find out, we’ll never get that inheritance; you do realize that?”

***

James met me at the house a few hours after I’d dropped Janice and Barry at the airport. He was a childhood friend who happened to be living on the island too, and worked for the IRS, although I wasn’t sure exactly what he did for them.

I led him through the kitchen and down the stairs to our space. “So I normally do my work just right over here.” I pointed to my laptop resting on the television stand.

“Right here on this sofa?” James asked with surprise.

“Yup, I don’t want you to do anything that feels uncomfortable, of course. Just a simple citation on some kind of official-looking document will do, stating we need a door. You feel okay with doing that?”

“Easy,” he said, smiling. “I got some tough in-laws myself.”

I could see him looking around with narrowed, attentive eyes. It made me feel a little uneasy. “Well, thanks, James. I appreciate it, man.” I began walking up the stairs; my neck craned towards him.

He followed slowly. “So what kind of setup you got with the in-laws?”

“What you mean?”

“I imagine you’re paying them rent then if you’re taking the downstairs unit.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I replied, quickening my steps.

“And what are their names again?”

“Why?”

“Oh, just curious, Steve. Not sure I’ve met them.”

“Janice and Barry Kroh,” I replied quickly, looking down at him from the kitchen.

“Like the bird?”

“No.”

“How do you spell that?”

I pretended not to hear him while pouring two glasses of water.

“Thanks for coming. I appreciate this.” I handed James a glass.

“Oh, I see. That’s how you spell it.” James took a sip, then pointed to the Kroh family crest framed on the wall.

“So you’ll have something for me before they get back? Just in case they don’t take my word for it.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll email it to you tonight.”

I finished putting the door up that afternoon. When I heard Mary’s car pull into the driveway, I ran up the stairs to see her first reaction.

“My God, you actually did it!”

“Yeah, I told you I was going to.”

“They’re not going to like this.”

“James is emailing the document tonight.”

“That easy, huh? Doesn’t really fit the bill of a typical IRS agent.”

“What you mean?”

“Well, those guys are all by the book, aren’t they?”

“Said he’s got some tough in-laws too, more than happy to help a friend out.” I smiled.

Mary’s brow furrowed into a frown, and then she set her handbag on the counter. “Well, I just hope it doesn’t backfire on us.”

***

My hands were tense on the steering wheel during the drive home from the airport. Janice and Barry’s eyes wore the tiredness of nearly a full day’s travel. When I noticed Janice resting her head on Barry’s shoulder, I turned the mirror, saying, “We got a bit of bad news while you were away.”

Janice perked up, straightening her neck, and leaned forward. “What’s that? Nothing happened to the garden, did it?”

“No, the garden’s fine.”

“Well, then, what is it?” Janice’s head was directly behind my elbow now.

“I got a surprise IRS visit. The officer said we’d need to erect a door from the kitchen leading down to our space to qualify the downstairs as my home office.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad.” The worried expression in Barry’s eyes waned.

Janice looked at him with contempt, then slapped his thigh. “Well, that’s ridiculous. They’re not allowed just to come in and do surprise visits. I’m going to report this.”

The car swerved as the steering wheel slipped through my hands. “No, no, it’s okay. I’ve already put the door up; wasn’t that big of a deal, really.”

“I don’t care about that! It’s an invasion of privacy!”

There was a silence, and then Barry spoke with a calculated tone. “It’s actually very much in their jurisdiction, Honey. And we definitely don’t want to be putting our names in front of any IRS agent.”

They looked at each other with worry in their eyes. “Did he say ask about us?” Barry questioned.

“No. Nothing about you all.”

A wave of relief seemed to descend upon them, and they said nothing further during the drive home.

Adding the door made life in the same house as my in-laws much more agreeable. I could now walk around in my underwear, have an honest conversation with Mary without the fear of being heard by her parents, and we even got to eat a few dinners alone. But this all lasted for just a little more than two weeks. One day I returned from a jog to find Barry and Janice crying at the kitchen table, papers in their hands.

“We’re being audited!” Janice cried. “We’re going to lose everything!”

“What?”

“Look!” Janice shoved the papers into my hand. I scanned the IRS citation and shuddered, reading the signature of the investigating officer. James McDermot

“James,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Does Mary know?”

“We’re going to lose everything!”

I handed the document back to Janice. “Now, don’t overact here. It’s not ideal, but how bad could it be? Just a little back taxes, no?”

“Did you read it? We’ve gone twenty years without paying taxes! Now they’re coming for everything!”

“Twenty years!” My arms went stiff as boards, and a chill ran down my spine. “How do you not pay taxes for twenty years?”

“Look, it’s gottt..gottt..got to be the same guy that came over here when we were in Europe. Says we we we have an undocumented tenant in our house ppp..ppp..paying rent. Wh…wha what was that guy’s name, Steven?” Barry’s hands shook as he spoke, and his stutter that only appeared when he was nervous was as bad as I’d ever heard it.

“Was it James McDermott!?” Janice exclaimed.

“No, no. I’m not sure now.” I opened the door, then raced down the stairs. I kneeled behind the TV dresser with a blanket over my head, phone pressed to my ear.

“James, what have you done, man?!”

“Hi, Steve!”

“I need you to fix this.”

“Oh, there’s no fixing anything. Your in-laws have been playing outside the lines for a long time. One of my biggest catches to date! I thought you’d be pleased about this; get them off your case a bit.”

“Please, James. You got to get them out of this.”

“Too late for that now, I’m afraid.”

***

We moved out of the house two weeks later. It was selling everything or jail time for Mary and Barry. We used every dime Mary and I had saved for a down payment on a small two-bedroom condo fronting a public golf course.

Janice planted a basil garden right outside our bedroom window. She tends to it daily at dawn. We eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, all four of us. At night, I turn on a sound machine to help with the sound traveling through the thin paper walls separating our bedrooms. But the other evening at supper, Jane asked if I could get rid of it as it was disturbing her sleep.

“I’ve got a better idea,” I said, smirking.

Mary grabbed my knee underneath the table and squeezed.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Jane asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, then stuffed a large red pepper into my mouth.