Les sat across from Ms. Harrington with his overpriced craft coffee and got right to the point.
“May I ask why it took over a month to hear from anyone? Adele assured me this estate transfer would be taken care of quickly.”
“Mr. Stacy, the last time my family heard from Adele was sixteen years ago.”
Les could feel a faint headache coming on. Estranged relatives, fucking hell. He wondered if it was too late to extricate himself from this.
“My grandmother didn’t tell you this, did she?”
Les groaned internally. Fucking Adele. They were going to have words later.
Flash Fiction Weekly Challenge: The Prediction. This week’s words are: craft, extricate, faint.
This is going to be a multi-fic series.