David shivered as the biting cold penetrated his thin suit. In different circumstances he would be annoyed at his mother for insisting that he wear something so flimsy in weather like this, but all he felt was emptiness. He should feel something, but he felt hollow, as if something had been removed from him.
Something had been, of course. Someone, to be precise. Great-grandpa Ben, he thought with a sigh. He felt, more than heard, the coffin hit the bottom of the grave. Fond memories raced through David's head. The small house where his great-grandfather spent his final three decades, the warm summer days spent playing in the small yard outside it, cold winter evenings spent in its living room, talking, the endless games of chess, which David rarely won. Sometimes Ben would give David puzzles to solve and codes to break. Invariably they would yield trails of clues that would lead to some small present or surprise. Ben had loved his codes. He taught David everything he knew about them and he would leave little encoded messages all around the house for the boy to find. Many were still there because David had been unsuccessful in cracking them. So many secrets.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, David focused on the people standing around him to distract himself from the bittersweet memories. He was standing at the back of the crowd; he was afraid he might cry and he didn't want his family to see him like that. His mother, however had no such inhibition. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Great-grandpa Ben was her grandfather on her father's side. The rest of the attendees were not quite as free with their emotions. Ben's death was tragic, true, but hardly unexpected. The man had lived to a hundred and three, living to see his great-grandchild enter adulthood. He had lived a long and full life.
David's eyes wandered to his right and he started. There was a stranger standing next to him. His face wasn't visible from David's vantage point, but judging by his stark, white hair he was probably an old man. The stranger's old-fashioned suit seemed to support this. It came as a shock, then, when the man turned to face David and he saw that the man's face was smooth and quite youthful. The man approached, extending his hand. "You must be David" he said, his voice pleasant and melodious. David accepted the handshake, nodding. The stranger cupped David's hand in both of his own, shaking it warmly. "My deepest condolences", he said, "I was a friend of Ben's."
"Then how come I've never seen you around?" David replied automatically.
As the words left his mouth he winced, realizing how belligerent and rude he sounded.
"Um…sorry…I just…I…" His voice petered out and he fell into an embarrassed silence.
The stranger lifted an eyebrow quizzically and smiled. "I understand, young man" he reassured David, "It is oftentimes hard to think properly after such an event." He gestured toward the grave, which was being filled.
"I didn't get to meet with dear, old Ben as often as I would have liked, but we were fast friends all the same. He mentioned you often, though we never got to meet."
David finally found his voice, "I…I'm sorry" he stammered, feeling inadequate.
"Think nothing of it, my boy" said the man with a warm smile.
The stranger peered intently at David's face. "You look just like he did at your age" he murmured.
"Who?"
"Ben, of course. You have his vibrant green eyes."
"You mean he showed you pictures of himself?" David asked, bewildered.
"No, he didn't", the man answered distractedly, still studying David's face.
David came to the conclusion that the man wasn't all there, for he seemed convinced that he had seen Ben at David's age more than eighty years ago, when he couldn't be older than thirty.
The man seemed to remember something and ceased his examination of David's face. "I came to pay my respects to Ben and to see him off," he said, "But I came here mostly to see you and to warn you that things are going to change very soon. You will receive some rather unexpected news, and even more unexpected events will follow. Then we will meet again." His voice carried a note of finality as if what he had said was preordained and unavoidable.
David smiled, amused, indulging the stranger's delusion.
"So young," the man continued. "So young to take up such a great burden." He was muttering now, as if speaking to himself. "Ben tried to hold on as long as he could to give you time to grow up and mature. I told him his granddaughter could take over, but he was adamant, he wanted you. I suppose he succeeded, but you're still so young."
"What d'you mean young?" David asked, indignant. "You can't be more than a few years older than me."
The stranger gave an obscure smile, "I've aged well" he said, simply.
"So, you're, like, forty or something?" David asked.
"I'll see you again soon" the stranger said, ignoring David's question. "Until then, farewell." The man gave a small bow and vanished.
David stared in astonishment; the man hadn't just walked away, he had simply disappeared. One moment he was there, and the next, without any warning or sound, he was simply gone. David's mind scrambled for any possible explanation. The most convincing one I came up with was that David had simply been caught up in a particularly vivid daydream. David decided to accept that rationalization and to think nothing more of the incident. That is, of course, until two days later, when the stranger's prediction came to pass.
David stifled a yawn as everyone sat down. He hadn't gotten much sleep in recent nights. He'd had troubling recurring dreams in which Great-grandpa Ben was sitting across from him at a table, eyeing him sadly, and telling him how sorry he was. The dream always ended with David waking up in a cold sweat before he could ask Ben what he was sorry for. He hadn't the slightest idea what it meant.
David looked up, suddenly alert, as Mr. Stern walked in carrying a slim, black briefcase. Mr. Stern was the lawyer appointed to read great-grandpa Ben's will. True to his name, he was gruff, taciturn, and wouldn't know a joke if it slapped him in the face. He also made it abundantly clear that he would rather be anywhere but there.
"All right, let's get this over with", he grumbled, earning himself disapproving frowns and glares from several of the crowd members.
He set his briefcase down on the table, removed a document from it, and began to read.
"Here is the last will and testament of Benjamin Edmund Crowley. Hello friends. If you are reading this, I am probably dead. Well, that or I have gone gallivanting around the world without saying a word to anyone. However, I doubt that I will have grown so inconsiderate in my old age, so we shall assume the former." The flippancy of the words were at a sharp contrast with Mr. Stern's dry tone and indifferent expression.
The lawyer droned on about clauses and sub-clauses within the will. David tried to pay attention to the reading, but found himself zoning in and out. Finally, his attention was caught by Mr. Stern announcing his name.
"To David I leave a precious gift, but with it a grave duty and responsibility."
David perked up, he didn't expect to be left anything.
"David, you will discover what these are in due course, but for now, let it be known that I leave my mansion in the countryside to my great-grandson, David."
David was confused. What mansion? If great-grandpa Ben had a mansion, why not live there?
David turned to his mother, "I didn't know he had a mansion."
David's mother stood up. "Excuse me, Mr. Stern? There must be some sort of mistake, my grandfather didn't own a mansion." The lawyer looked up from returning the document to his briefcase. "Well, that's what it says. And besides, the bank has confirmed the authenticity of the claims of ownership made in this will, including the mansion."
"But…but" Angeline trailed off as Mr. Stern made a hasty getaway.
"Did anyone know about this?" she demanded of the crowd. There was a general, confused murmur.
David, however, was thoughtful. What did great-grandpa Ben want him to find in that mansion?