An Inherited Adventure

Asheville, NC, March 2nd, 1987, early Monday morning. Suddenly, a telephone rang:

"Hello! Is this John Wilson?"

"Yes, it is me. Who am I talking to?"

"My name is Lois Mitchell. I am calling you on behalf of the Insurance Group. First of all, I want to express my condolence as your beloved grandma passed away. It must be a hard time for you now. I also want to inform you that your grandma has left an inheritance for you. You can come to our office and pick it up any time. Will 2 pm work for you?"

"Ahhh, yes, I'll come today. Thank you for calling."

"Great, Mr. Wilson, see you soon then. "

John put the phone down, thinking what grandma could have left for him. He knew she was a nomadic circus performer who spent her last years of life wandering the world with a group of artists. She never settled down anywhere.

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It was 1.45 pm, a few more minutes separated John from the unknown. Right after John had finished viewing paintings in the main hall, Lois Mitchell entered the room.

"Are you John Wilson? I called you today in the morning."

"Right! Am I talking to Lois Mitchell?"

"Yes, you do! Let's get administrative things done. Please, sign here and right here. Great! Now, please wait for a moment, I'll come back with a package. "

"A package?" John whispered. "What's there?"

"I don't know. Your grandmother left it a year ago before she had gone on her fateful trip." Lois explained.

John grabbed the package, thanked Lois, and went home. John lived alone in a small van near the suburb, managing part-time studies and working as a handyman in the evening. He was filled with curiosity; he ran home as much as he could to find out what a mysterious package contained. It was a small cardboard box wrapped in paper.

"What's inside?" Jon tried to guess. "Money? Keys to a house? It would be great to get something tangible. Alright, enough guessing, I am going to figure this out."John removed the paper cover and stood in salience for a moment.

"$20,000 bucks in cash? Really? Am I dreaming now?" John could not believe his eyes. "No, they are real! I can touch them. Woohoo, I will pay off my bills and cover the tuition fee at my college. Thank you, grandma! But wait, there is something else. "

A little black notebook with a letter was at the bottom of the package. John took them out of the box and started to read the letter out loud:

Hello my dear John,

This is your beloved grandma, Julie!

If you are reading this letter, I must be already dead.

I want you to know something. I don't regret living my life! If I had a chance to live another life, I would not have changed anything. I've been to all continents and performed in front of famous poets, scientists, politicians of the 2oth century.

I hope you understand me and don't blame me for being far away most of the time. Despite the distance and challenges we've all had to go through, I love you with all my heart.

Everything I have is $20.000 at the end of my wandering life. It's a tiny sum, but I want to help you as much as I can. However, I have my last wish, and I would be grateful if you could help me! Please, read carefully.

Once I've been to Paris with a group of artists. I fell in love with the city and spent a lot of time exploring its authentic streets. One day, I stumbled upon a little black notebook lying near the famous Notre-Dame de Paris cathedral. It was early in the morning, and I did not see anyone in the vicinity. I believe someone has lost the notebook. I picked it up, wondering how to find its owner.

I assume the little black notebook belongs to Bruce Chatwin. He must be a travel writer since it is full of adventurous stories. He has also left some hints on how to find him in case his notebook gets lost.

I tried to find him but failed. Moreover, I had to leave Paris in a few days. I often felt guilty since I could not return a little black notebook to its owner.

Now, I am asking YOU to do it! Look at the notebook, find Mr. Chatwin's address, and return this notebook to the owner.

I never asked you to do anything for me. However, this is my last will. Please, return the little black notebook to Bruce Chatwin. Let me rest in peace knowing you did it!

I am proud of you, John!

Your grandma,

July!

John's eyes filled with tears after he had finished reading his grandmother's letter. It seemed she was still alive, sitting right next to him.

"I wish you were here with me, grandma," John whispered. "If that's my grandma's last wish, I have to do it. Returning the old notebook does not seem like a big deal."John took the little black notebook from the box to check it thoroughly.

"Hmmm, the cover is made out of black leather. I've never seen such a notebook before. I am wondering where this guy could get it." John opened the notebook and started to read the notes:

Paris, June 19th, 1965.

A strong smell of the ground coffee woke me up this morning. It seems every street has its unique style and smell in Paris. Rue de L’Ancienne Comédie smells like a Kenco Continental High Roast, but stronger.

The notebook was full of short travel notes, sketches, and stories made by Charles Bruce Chatwin, an English travel writer.

"Wow, these memoirs are so insightful! He must have traveled all over the world." John exclaimed. He turned the notebook and found a short note on its backside:

To whom it may concern,

If I ever lose this notebook, I'll lose a part of my soul! It's not a simple notebook. It contains my whole life; every moment that sparked my imagination and made my life worths living.

If you, my dear friend, find this notebook somewhere, please, return it to the following address:

Stationary shop at Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie, 75006 Paris, France.

Thank you! May God bless you!

Charles Bruce Chatwin

John put the notebook aside and started thinking about what to do next.

"It seems I have to go to Paris and meet this guy at the Stationary shop. It's a long trip from the US. Can I mail the notebook? Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. But, wait! It might get lost, and the owner will never see it again. It should not bother me, should it? I mean, theoretically, I will fulfill my grandma's will - I will send the notebook to the owner. However, this is not what she asked me to do. She wanted me to "return" the notebook. Moreover, I've never been to Europe. It is an excellent opportunity to visit Paris. Let's do it!"

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Paris, March 26th, 1987. John has just arrived in Paris, thrilled by the vibe, cozy winding streets, and the majestic historical monuments.

"The air smells of baguettes and coffee. Bruce Chatwin was right in his notes. Paris indeed has its uniqueness and charm. Alright, I should not forget why I came here, though. It is easy to get lost in these streets. Look, it is the Notre-Dame de Paris! The medieval Catholic cathedral my grandma had visited when she found this little black notebook. Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie should be somewhere nearby. I have to keep walking."

John headed along the Boulevard du Palais to cross the river Seine. It was early spring; nature has just started waking up after the severe winter. John was unsure whether he followed the right direction, but something was unconsciously leading him towards the stationery store.

"There it is!" John exclaimed excitedly. "This is the stationary shop at Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie. I can't wait to get inside! "

The shop occupied a few square meters and seemed ordinary—nothing special; the same paper, pencils, and notebooks as anywhere. John was staring at the shop shelves when someone turned to him.

"Puis-je vous aider Monsieur?"

"Oh, I barely understand French," John replied. "Do you speak English by any chance?"

"I speak English a little bit. Can I help you?" Aceline, a shop assistant, tried to reply with her strong French accent.

"Yes, I am looking for Mr. Charles Bruce Chatwin. He must be a travel writer who buys little black notebooks here." John showed Aceline the notebook, hoping she could recall anything.

"Mr. Chatwin is our regular customer," Aceline explained. "He often buys black leather notebooks before heading to the trips. He was here a few days ago and asked to get a new notebook for him since the one he had was lost. Mr.Chatwin is about to leave for Zimbabwe today. If you want to meet him, please, come today at 5 pm."

"Excellent! Thank you so much, Ms. Aceline. It was very helpful! See you soon. " John shook Aceline's hand and headed towards the door.

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4.45 pm. John was standing next to the stationary store at Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie. He was anxious but excited to complete his mission and finally enjoy the Parisian vibe. A strange man with a long beard, wearing the cloak, was heading towards the shop. John made a step forward and took a breath to say:

"Mr. Charles Bruce Chatwin?"

"Yes, this is me. Who am I talking to?" Bruce Chatwin was surprised that a stranger addressed him by his name.

"My name is John Wilson. You lost a precious item some time ago, and I am here to give it back. Do you recall it?" John took a little black notebook from his bag and showed it to Bruce Chatwin.

"Oh sweet Jesus, hallelujah!" Bruce was thrilled. "This is my "clarnet Moleskine," a notebook with black oilcloth binding in French. Where was it? No! Don't say anything! I invite you for an afternoon Parisian coffee with a croissant. I have a few hours before my ship departs to Zimbabwe. I want to hear an exciting story of how my clarnet Moleskine was lost a year ago, traveled in time to reunite with me on my last day in Paris."

John started a story about his inherited adventure while they were both heading towards a cozy cafe next to Sainte-Chapelle.