Uncle Herman's Last Request

“Bridget and Lena, I am meeting with you today because I am executor of Herman McCain's last will and testament. As you know, your uncle passed away earlier this year.” Mark Smith looked from one cousin to the other.

“Yeah, the old hermit croaked,” Bridget said with a smirk. She reached over Lena for the sugar packets, bumping her with her elbow.

“Yeah,” Lena said faintly, shrinking away from Bridget.

“How did you know him, anyway?” Bridget said, tearing open a sugar packet and dumping it into her coffee.

“I was his neighbor. I'm as surprised as you are that he chose me to distribute his estate. You two are the only surviving--”

“Yeah, cool,” Bridget interrupted. “So what did he leave me?”

“Well,” said Mark. He glanced at the briefcase sitting next to him. “As I was saying, you are the only surviving relatives. His request is a bit unusual. He has left you $20,000--”

“TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS?!” Bridget interrupted, snapping forward in her seat. “That's all?!”

“Young lady, if you keep interrupting me...” He pinned Bridget with an icy stare.

“Yeah, okay,” Bridget said, shrugging. “Whatever.”

He looked at Lena, who was gaping at him. “Herman McCain has left you $20,000, with conditions.”

“What conditions?” Lena asked, her eyes huge.

“Well,” said Mark. He clicked open the latches on the briefcase and produced two small white squares of paper.

“What is that?” asked Bridget.

“The conditions,” Mark said, “Are as follows. Whichever one of you successfully completes the tasks he has laid out for you, will get the money.”

“Wait a minute,” said Bridget, stirring her coffee rapidly as Lena's eyes began to fill with tears, “You're saying only one of us will get that whole measly $20,000, and the other gets nothing?!”

“Correct,” said Mark. “There are two tasks, and they must be completed by 5:00 p.m. today.” He checked his watch. “It is 3:15 now. There will be--”

“That's not fair!” Bridget yelled.

“There will be a witness following each of you, handpicked by me, per Herman's request,” Mark continued, watching Lena, who was pale as a ghost, “To make sure that you complete each task successfully. Here is the first.” He held up the two white squares of paper. “Same for each of you. When you complete the task, the witness will give you the next task. May the best contestant win,” he said, rising from his seat.

“I don't believe this,” Bridget said, also rising. “All this for a measly twenty thousand dollars?”

Mark clicked the latches shut on his briefcase. “Well, you could forfeit. That would make Lena the winner by default.” Lena gasped and glanced at Bridget.

Bridget gripped the edge of the table. “I will never forfeit.” She loomed over Lena, who shrank back on the bench. “I ALWAYS WIN.” She snatched one of the papers from Mark's hand. She slung her purse over her shoulder and stormed past them around the corner. A few seconds later, the coffee shop's door jingled, a car door slammed, and an engine roared to life. Mark turned and glanced out the window as a huge, shiny black SUV roared past with Bridget at the wheel, headed south.

Mark snapped up his phone, dialed, and held the phone to his ear. “Yes. Go.” A blue sports car sped by a few seconds later, also headed south.

“Well, now,” said Mark kindly, turning to Lena, who was still sitting on the bench. “This one is for you.” He handed her the other piece of paper, which she took with trembling hands. “You'd better get a move on, dear. Bridget has gotten a head start.” Lena stood up, fumbling her sunglasses onto her face. “If you don't mind my asking, what is the deal with you two? I couldn't help but notice...”

Lena shook her head. “It doesn't matter. She always wins.” She turned and slunk around the corner.

Mark watched her walk out to her small white car and drive away, the sunlight flashing unevenly off of the car's bad paint job. He drew his phone out of his pocket, dialed, and held the phone to his ear. “Yes. Go.”

A few seconds later, a red Jeep sped by, headed south.

The first task was typed and impersonal, just like Uncle Herman, or “Herman the Hermit,” as Bridget liked to call him: 192 Bridge Street - Help someone in need.

Her knuckles white on the steering wheel, Lena drove to Ace Supermarket, the red Jeep close behind.

As she pulled in, she spied Bridget's huge black SUV parked in the next row, next to a blue sports car. The red Jeep pulled in next to her, and she got a good look at her witness – a large man wearing sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt. He nodded to her.

She climbed shakily out of the car and headed for the store entrance. She heard the Jeep's door slam behind her. She glanced back and saw the man in the Hawaiian shirt following at a respectful distance, holding a clipboard.

Once inside, she headed for the produce section, looking for someone who needed help. As she stood irresolute, she heard Bridget's voice a few aisles over.

“No, you have to let me. I KNOW you need help, so why don't you just let me HELP you? Here, let me get that for you--”

And a quavering old man's voice: “No, I don't need the help. Really, will you please stop bothering me?”

Lena walked quickly past the entrance to the aisle, glancing sideways as she went. Bridget was having a tug-of-war with an old man over a box of cereal. A blonde woman wearing a sundress was standing a few feet away, making notes on a clipboard and shaking her head.

Lena walked quickly down the aisles, searching for someone who needed help, the man in the Hawaiian shirt following a short distance away. She picked up a few cans of soup along the way.

When she got to the freezer section at the far end of the store, she slowly turned in a circle and still did not see anyone who needed help. She shrugged helplessly at her witness and headed for the checkout lane.

As she dug around in her purse for her wallet, tears splashed onto the lens of her sunglasses. She wiped them quickly away and counted out the few dollars she had. After she had counted them several times, she became aware that the line had not moved for quite some time. The man in the Hawaiian shirt was shifting impatiently behind her.

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” the cashier was saying to the woman in front of her. “You're still a few dollars short. You'll have to put something back.”

“I can't, I've already put back as much as I can...” the woman was saying.

“Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to put something back.”

“Excuse me,” Lena said timidly. The cashier and woman turned to look at her. “Um, how much more does she need?”

“She's five dollars short,” said the cashier.

Lena pulled out the $5 bill in her hand, leaving a $1 bill. “Here,” she said, “Take this.” She handed it to the cashier.

“Oh, thank you so much!” said the woman, with tears in her eyes. “You are a wonderful person!”

“It's no problem,” said Lena, red-eyed behind her sunglasses. She turned to the cashier. “I was going to get these cans of soup but I...changed my mind.”

“You can just leave those here. You have a blessed day, ma'am!”

“Thanks, you too.”

“Thank you so much!” The woman called after her as she left the store. Lena waved shyly to her, then headed for her car.

The man in the Hawaiian shirt jogged to catch up with her. “You passed,” he said.

“I didn't know what to do,” Lena said faintly.

“You did exactly the right thing. Here's the next task.” He handed her another white square of paper and climbed into his Jeep. “Remember you only have until 5:00. I'll be watching.”

Lena nodded and got in her car.

The second task was also typed and she did a double-take when she saw it: 246 LaDelle Ct – The final test. Her uncle's address.

As she pulled out of the parking space and headed for the exit, she saw Bridget emerging from the supermarket, the blonde woman in the sundress right behind her.

A few minutes later on the highway, a huge black SUV hurtled up the left lane, Bridget leaning forward over the wheel with a demonic expression on her face. As she drew level with Lena, Bridget leered at her and floored it. The blue sports car followed, the blonde woman at the wheel shaking her head.

Lena wound up close behind them as they drove through the gate to her late uncle's property, the red Jeep bringing up the rear. Executor Mark Smith was at the end of the driveway by the house, standing by his truck.

He smiled as they pulled up. “Welcome Lena and Bridget, and congratulations on completing the first task. You have both proven that you are decent people.”

“That's right,” sneered Bridget. “The old man finally let me help him!” The blonde woman rolled her eyes.

“It's time for the final task,” Mark continued, “which will determine who gets the $20,000 in Herman McCain's estate. A simple question.”

“What is it?” Bridget demanded.

“The question is,” said Mark, looking at Lena, “What was Uncle Herman's favorite movie?”

Bridget snorted. “Oh, that's easy. That dumb space movie – what was it?” She snapped her fingers. “2001: A Space Odyssey! I win! Give me the money!” She held out her hand.

Mark said, “Wrong. Lena?”

“The Good, the Bad and the Ugly? We watched it together once.”

“That's right,” Mark said, smiling broadly.

“What?!” yelled Bridget.

“Um,” said Lena.

Mark reached into the glove compartment of his truck and produced a little black notebook. “For you, Lena.” It fit perfectly into the palm of her hand. The word “Moleskine” was imprinted into the sleek back cover. Her hands shaking, she paged through the book, which contained journal entries, notes, lists, bank calculations, sketches, and even an old photograph of her as a child. “Last page. Written on his deathbed.”

Lena turned to the last page. As she read Uncle Herman's old-fashioned scrawl, addressed to her for the first time, tears began to roll down her face.

“My dearest Lena – Congratulations, I knew you could do it. I am sorry for putting you through my odd request, but I am an old hermit after all, and have to keep up appearances. You have always been my favorite. I am sorry that I haven't been there for you as I should have been – it troubled me to hear from your Aunt Margaret, and sometimes see for myself, the way your cousin Bridget picked on you for no good reason. And being the mean old coot that I am, I wanted you to beat her soundly, in a contest she could never win. Even if she passes the first test, she cannot pass the second, because I only shared my very favorite things with you. The $20,000 is yours – it is all the cash I have. But that is not all – I leave you also my land and my home, which are fully paid off. And I leave you my love – I pray my final request can at least begin to atone for all the times I was not available to you, when you needed me most. I love you, my darling.

- Your Uncle Herman”