Damn morals

"Hello, Andrew?"

"Speaking. Who is this?" Andrew asked as he didn't recognize the voice on the other end of the line.

"This is Melanie McPherson. I am, or I was, the estate lawyer for your late uncle, William Butler."

"Oh, yes. I was aware he passed. Hell, did anyone even attend the funeral?"

"Well, yes, sir. Actually quite a few people attended. You know he was quite the mogul in the investment world."

"I'm aware." Andrew thought about the last time he saw his uncle. It was around Christmas, fifteen years prior. He blew in like a hurricane, had an argument with Andrew's father, then disappeared from his family's life.

He didn't know too much about Uncle William, just that he never got along with Andrew's father, had no children of his own, and was not a presence in his life. However, he did assume his uncle would not approve of his struggling life as a writer, living with mountains of debt but brilliant ideas.

Andrew snapped back from his fleeting thoughts. "Well, Ms. McPherson, what can I do for you?"

"Well, you see, your uncle left you something. You should pick it up at his office today if you can. The address is 2 Park Avenue Place, suite 1400, and the secretary has it at the front desk."

"Me? Are you sure you have the right person?"

"I'm sure. You are Andrew Butler, nephew of William Morris Butler, correct?"

"That's me. Okay, thank you. I'll be by later to pick it up."

After lunch, Andrew hailed a cab to the address the woman had given him. He entered the large building that commanded a grand and stately presence, somewhat similar to his late uncle. He took the elevator to the fourteenth floor, entered the glass double doors, and met a woman at the front desk, with short braids, black rimmed glasses, and an eclectic style.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

"Um, yes. I am Andrew Butler. I am supposed to pick something up today from my uncle?"

"Oh, Andrew. Of course. Here you go. But you will need to go down the hall to your uncle's office to use it. Look behind the painting," the woman said with a slight wink.

Andrew took the envelope and walked to the hall in the direction the woman pointed. He entered a quiet, pristine office with a stately mahogany desk. Behind the desk hung a portrait of his late uncle. He took the envelope and gently opened it to find a key.

"What the fuck?" Andrew quietly asked himself.

He walked over to the painting and removed it from the wall. Behind it was a safe, which he opened with the key that was given to him. As he opened the safe, Andrew noticed a small black moleskin notebook. It was the only thing in the cold, empty box. As he took it out and flipped open the notebook, he noticed three names and addresses, each with a large dollar amount written beside them. He also noticed another envelope tucked inside the pages with twenty thousand dollars cash.

"Holy shit!" Andrew said out loud. He looked around to see if anyone could see him, forgetting he was alone in the room. Andrew thought about the mounting credit card debt he had, and how easy it would be to take the cash from his uncle's safe and go about his day. Then his morals kicked in. "Damn morals," he thought to himself.

He looked in the notebook again and saw:

Martin Busch Jewelers - 5000.00

Agnes Pippen- 10,000.00

Melanie McPherson-5,000.00

"Damn it. Why has he brought me here?" He looked at the names again, the amounts, and their addresses. Then he looked back at the painting of his distant and seemingly unkind uncle. "Fine," he begrudgingly said to his uncle's picture.

Andrew started off toward Martin Busch Jewelers . He was annoyed that this wild goose chase he was now on would end of costing him money he didn't have in cab fare alone. Andrew arrived at his destination and entered the building. He asked for the manager and over walked a thin, older man, about the same age as his father was when he passed.

"I'm Marty- the owner. How can I help you?"

Andrew explained the situation in detail, and as the story unfolded, the man's eyes twinkled and a smile curved at the end of his lips. "I remember your uncle. He came in well before he made his millions and pleaded with me to sell him a beautiful antique ring for half of what it was worth. He promised to pay me back when he could, but he had to have it for the love of his life. It was the only one that would do."

"What was the difference?"

"Five thousand dollars."

"Damn. You know, I didn't even know my uncle proposed to anyone. I didn't think he ever married. Well, I assume this is yours," said Andrew. He reached into his satchel to grab the little black book and took out five thousand dollars to hand to the man. "Your debt is paid."

Andrew said his goodbyes and headed to the next address for Agnes Pippen in the Bronx. This time he'd take the subway. As he arrived at Agnes's address, he knocked on the door. An older woman, heavy set woman, of Lebanese decent answered.

"Agnes?"

"That's me. What do you need? Is everything okay?"

Andrew explained his situation again, then reached into the satchel and found the black book. "My uncle left you ten thousand dollars."

A tear fell from Agnes's eye. "He remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"Well, you see, your uncle was set to marry my best friend many years ago. She died in a tragic accident prior to their wedding date, and the rest is history. I always wanted to start a charity in her honor and figured I needed about ten thousand dollars at the time."

"Couldn't he just have given it to you then?"

"Oh no. He wasn't worth anything back then. We stayed close for a while, always brainstorming on how to remember her, but eventually lost touch. I think the pain was too deep for him, and he poured himself into work so that he wouldn't have to think about the life he was supposed to have."

Andrew thought for a while. "Wow. I am finding out so much about my uncle. This day has been crazy." He handed Agnes the money, then smiled. "I hope this helps."

"It most certainly will."

Andrew said his goodbyes then headed to the last stop. He recognized the name from the phone call he had received earlier in the morning, and headed to Melanie McPherson's law office. As he entered the building, he found the directory, which led him to a striking red head studying piles of documents.

"Andrew?"

"How did you know?" he asked the woman.

"Well, I didn't. I was hoping you would follow through."

Andrew reached into his satchel again. "I guess this last five thousand is yours? I'm not going to lie, it was hard not to keep it for myself."

"But you didn't. And your uncle knew you wouldn't."

Confused, Andrew sat in the chair across from Melanie's desk. "What is this all about?"

"Well, your uncle knew he was dying, and he had a lot of regrets as we all do. He wanted to do what little he could before he left, especially for those he lost touch with. And yes, that five thousand is mine. It is to pay my final bill."

"So that's it? I just ran around the city to help out my uncle and make him feel better? I barely even knew him."

"No, that's not it. You see, your uncle kept up with you, whether you knew it or not. That scholarship you received for college? That was your uncle. He never had children, even though he always wanted them, but the love of his life was killed before that could happen. And he could never move on to marry another or open his heart to have a close relationship with your family."

Andrew took it all in. "Well, that is depressing. So now what?"

Melanie smiled. "Now, it's all yours. What you thought was a lot with twenty thousand dollars is mere chump change for what your uncle left you. As the sole relative of his, you now own everything. His estate and all that comes with it is yours. He knew you would do some good with it."

Andrew started breathing heavier. "Everything?"

"Everything."

He wiped his brow and sat back in his chair. Andrew would never have to worry about finances again. He could pour himself into his writing for the rest of his life- thanks to his uncle. And he could do some good for this world, too. Damn morals.