One L

She stared at the condensation gathering on the cup over the scribbled lettering that spelled out “Ellen B.”. It wasn’t the barista’s fault per say. How were they to know that before them stood, likely, one of the only Elen’s in the country, with a single L, rather than a double L. Possibly, it was a fault of her own, although, it would have been pretentious to state, “Elen with one L, not two.” as if a barista misspelling of her name on her morning coffee cup would be too offensive to let pass. The steam dissipated and she wondered if it was cool enough to-

Hurried footsteps echoed from the alley at her side. Their frantic approach tore her attention up only a second before the world tilted out of view and her back hit the pavement. She felt hands harshly pushing down on her, before the body of the man who knocked into her was back on his feet and running off. Slowly, she sat up and moments later another man came running from the same alley.

“Which way?” he said in a panted demand. In a daze, she lifted her finger toward the street and the man took off. Elen looked around the concrete scene, waiting for the innocent passerby or handsome man to come to her aid and ask if she was alright. The street was empty, save a homeless man slumped against the wall, asleep. She looked down at herself, the contents of “Ellen” spilled over her clothing. To her surprise, none of her belongings were taken, in fact it wasn’t until this moment that she noticed an added item tucked into the crook of her arm.

She stood, and leafed the pages of the little black journal. It was completely filled, crammed with sketchings and words that collaged together like a crime scene board. Elen turned the pages on her walk home, mulling over the strange inked thoughts until she reached her door. Her elderly neighbor passed her, “ Buenas tardes Elen, you are having a good morning?”.

Elen looked up to the women and said “ I seemed to have been reverse mugged with a journal about a family will worth millions.”. The woman looked her up and down, noting the tattered and stained clothes, then nodded with a dismissive smile and patted her as she walked by.

Inside, Elen sat at her wobbly kitchen table and stared at the book. The right thing to do would be to bring this to the cops, it wasn’t her property and the two men didn’t seem like they were on their way to partake in legal activities. She wasn’t an upstanding citizen though, and curiosity tasted better than obedience.

Six hours passed. Elen had not moved from her kitchen table, digesting the little black notebook in its entirety. It felt as if she had happened upon the beginning of a Law and Crime episode. The scribblings were journal entries from what looked like months of work. Dates and addresses and theories written out in full, to reveal some puzzle who’s shape Elen had yet to discern. There were few key elements that stood out to her in connection, a will, a series of dates, the death of a man, and forty-two million dollars.

She pulled out her laptop and began her search. The excitement of the action had the small computer’s fan whirring until it seemed it might take off, one more search tab and the laptop would likely spark into a frenzy. She tapped on the enter key vigorously to speed up the loading bar and, as if in juvenile defiance, the screen sputtered and went black. “Traitor.” she mumbled at the carcass of the machine and gathered her things into her bag. The university library would have to do.

~

It was roughly 2 blocks away from the library that Elen took notice of the black vehicle that had casually been tailing behind her. The car coasted with a lack of aggression that stood out on the inner city streets. At the library steps, she allowed herself a glance back, barely able to make out two silhouettes within the car before it took a turn out of view. She let out a huffed laugh, she was deluding herself into the actual plot of a crime show now.

Within the mahogany shelved walls of the library she took up her research again, typing furiously to connect the various names and dates within the notebook. The story line seemed simple enough, old money oil tycoon, Steven Roesworth died recently, leaving his estate to his family, but as the story goes there was a halt on the inheritances. Article after article wrote on the rising tensions between the family members while the frozen bank accounts held them hostage. The reasonings for the halt in proceedings has yet to be divulged. Elen chewed on her lip while piecing together the dangling scraps of information in front of her. Flipping through the journal she stopped on a page where a pen had drawn severe circles hard enough to emboss the paper around a small name and date, Elizabeth Weller. The date was from nearly eighteen years ago. She sat with the clue for a moment, trying to find a place to fit it within the puzzle, but Elizabeth’s name had not come up within the family tree or articles.

The book in her lap grew heavy with the weight of what she was uncovering, what she was incriminating herself in. With the fading daylight she began to wrap up her things.

A chair scraped up to the table edge and a boy set himself in it. He had a harsh beauty that matched the hard pressed edges of his clothing. Clothing that indicated he was one of those students that likely did not have scholarships to this university, nor even applied. Her hand dropped the black notebook with a soft thunk into the book bag under the table.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your studying,” he spoke smoothly, “but I believe I came across you earlier today, quite literally I’m afraid. I apologize for our tumble, I was in a bit of a rush.” Her eyes widened at the introduction.

There was a pause, “Yes, I am alright if that was what you were asking.” was her only response. He gave a tight smile.

“I believe I dropped something when I encountered you, a notebook actually.”

“Oh,” her heart skittered and she made to sling her bag over her shoulder, he rose with her. “Yea, I think I’ve left it at home. I was in a hurry to study.” she shrugged and started toward the doors, he kept pace with her. “How did you find me?”.

He spoke with a forced casualness, “I thought I recalled seeing your face on campus before, and when I returned, I found your coffee cup. Ellen right?”. She nodded with unease. “It’s a small school.” He shrugged and continued. “Well Ellen, is there any chance I could get that journal back. It is very personal to me, with some intimate thoughts. It’s a bit embarrassing that it’s in the hands of someone else let alone a beautiful girl.”. He was prodding to see how much she had read.

Brisk night air whipped into their faces outside and they stood at the top of the stairs. “ I have no interest in your diary. I could bring it Monday when I’m back on campus.” she said nonchalantly. His eyes roamed her face skeptically and her pulse thudded under his scrutiny. Aware of her reddening cheeks she feigned a coy shyness and began walking again.

“ I would really prefer to have it much sooner than that.” He said flatly.

“ I uh, I meant to go to a café concert tonight, meet me there and I could bring your journal.” She offered innocently.

“ Or I could grab it now. It’s a cold evening, let me give you a ride home it’s not far anyway-”

She called eagerly to a friend she recognized down the street. “That’s alright, I am meeting with someone. Meet me at The Roasted Bean tonight at 8 and I’ll bring it.” Elen smiled and ran off before the boy could respond.

When she reached her waiting friend she was panting.

“Hey, I didn’t think I would see you at the library on a Saturday.” Sabrina laughed.

“Can I borrow your laptop?” Elen replied.

~

His name was Joshua Edding, he was further out on the family tree, far enough out that any changes to the structure of the lineage might be enough to break off his small branch. A history of private schools, sports tournaments and expulsions with no further description besides “Violent behavior” . There were a few references to him in the journal as well, none of which spoke in kind. Elen flipped back to the page with Elizabeth’s name circled gravely. She wondered if Elizabeth knew of her own importance, if she even knew of the relation between her and the Roesworth family. Likely not, and Elen wondered if it would be better for her to never know. It’s a dangerous position to be the only direct blood line standing between a dozen Roesworth family members, and their inheritance.

Elen tapped along to the music of the musicians in the coffee shop. She chewed on her lip and stared at the little black book, the book that had a key worth millions of dollars. She wondered where the original writer was now, since it certainly wasn’t Joshua Edding. Perhaps it was the man that chased Joshua so fervently this morning. Regardless, here she was ready to hand it over to this strange boy. She has no choice, she reasoned to herself. Joshua knew where she lived, he made that clear when offering her a ride to her home that “wasn’t that far”. How much more did he know about her? She tucked her shaking hands into her lap.

Across the shop she saw Joshua’s restless form open the door, 45 minutes early, as she expected. When he seated himself across from her, she feigned surprise at his arrival. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

She puckered her lips at the awkward, tense silence and retrieved the book she had placed in her bag. It thudded against the wood table and his hands reached for it immediately, leafing through the pages.

“No worries, I didn’t read your love letters.” She laughed, but her voice came out shaky and wrong. He was looking at the book but gave a humorless huff in return.

His eyes raised to meet hers again and there was a shadow there that stilled her. From his jacket pocket he retrieved a thick envelope and placed it in front of her, not breaking his stare. She grabbed it tentatively, and lifted the lip to look inside, she dropped it when she saw the contents.

“I would think most people would be thrilled about twenty thousand. You can do a lot with that, pay student debts, buy a car, better clothes.” He mused flatly.

It was hush money, but more than that, it was a threat, unwritten, unspoken, but there. Take the money, and not part her lips about anything she might have read, otherwise…

His chair scrapped back as he stood. She flinched back instinctively, but he gave her a lasting glare and left the cafe. Through the tinted windows she saw him meet two figures, before climbing into a black car. She wondered how many people knew of this family secret. Maybe Joshua would burn the journal, maybe Elizabeth has never known, maybe the writer no longer breathed, maybe she is the last one to have the key.

She pulled the envelope and turned it over, staring at the blaring paper before her, at the rough harsh lettering that spelled out her name: "Elen".