To Spend a Fortune

The story begins on a day like any other. Here I am, Cameron Emery O’Connell, scuffing along the outskirts of town, searching perversely for some sort of entertainment. Sadly, I’ve only succeeded in making myself even more likely to die of boredom and now the added effects of heatstroke and dehydration.

The sun is blinding in the cloudless sky and mercilessly scorches the earth and all those who walk upon it. I shield my watering eyes with my hand and search the landscape for shelter from the heat. I’m pretty far away from Main Street, so all I can see right now is the gray firehouse, the abandoned tourist center, and the hills far in the distance. I sigh and press onward towards the center of town, kicking little gray pebbles with my shoes.



I reach Main Street within a half hour according to my watch, but according to how wet the back of my shirt is I’ve been walking for hours. This street and all the ones branching off it from what I can tell are deserted. Everyone’s probably inside with the air conditioning blasting. I think about just heading home, but the tantalizing prospect of air conditioning just inside one of the nearby shops overpowers any other thoughts. Mom’s maternity shop is just around the corner, so I decide to pop in and have a glass of water and maybe score the keys to the minivan and go for a joyride.

So I jog slowly to Marigold Avenue and next to the post office is the light pink building I know all too well: Momma to Be.

The door jingles as I walk through and the smell of baby powder and new carpet hits my nostrils. It’s not till I take a few steps into the store that the blessed cold air washes over me. I stop where I am and close my eyes with a smile. Sweet relief.

After a while I open my eyes and wonder where everyone is; everyone meaning my mom, Edna, and the occasional customer. It never fails to baffle me as to how this place is able to stay open.

I walk a little ways into the newborn section, looking at the baby giraffes on some onesies and lacy little bonnets, when mom comes out of the backroom carrying a big cardboard box. “Hi, Cameron! What’re you doing here? I thought you were never gonna get off the couch.”

“Hey, mom.” I smile.

“Hey-“ She says walking over to me. “You wanna help me out today?”

“Uh…”

“Great!” She plops the box into my unsuspecting arms. “Edna and I are doing inventory and a little rearranging today and we could really use your help.”

“Mo-om.”

“Ca-am.”

I give her an exasperated look.

“What? You got a hot date?”

I look down at the box and sigh. “No…”

“That’s my boy.” Mom smiles and pats and my cheek. “Bring this box upstairs. Edna’ll tell you what to do.”

“Yes ma’am,” I grumble and make my way to the stairs, shifting the box further up my chest using my knee.

“Thank you!” Mom sings from behind me.

“Welcome!” I call back in a falsely cheerful tone.

“Grump ass…” I hear mom mutter as I ascend the stairs with a small smile.

Upstairs, Edna is smoothing the wrinkles from some pregger-lady dresses. “Hey, Mrs. Nesbit.”

“Now, Cameron, I told you to call me Edna,” she says without looking up.

“Will do.” I salute her with the box still in my hands though she can’t see. After I stand for a while watching her fold and primp clothing items I clear my throat. “Um. What should I do with this?” I gesture to the package as best I can.

“Oh!” Edna exclaims and rushes over to me. “Pardon me, my mind’s going.” She presses one wrinkled hand to her temple. “You should set it over there and just unload everything that’s in there- Socks I think.” Mrs. Nesbit points to a table at the back of the square room.

“Cool.” I walk over to the laminate wood table and set the box down. There isn’t any tape so I just open up the flaps and low and behold- baby socks.

Edna and I work in silence for a while and then she speaks up. “So, Cameron, how is school?”

“Good,” I answer nonchalantly. School has always been easy, nothing is ever really challenging.

“What grade are you in now?”

“I’m a junior.”

Edna lets out a high whistle. “So old now. I remember when you were just a baby…”

I flinch, thinking she’s about to launch into a story about my infancy. Luckily, she didn’t.

“What about your friends?”

“Good,” I repeat.

“What about that hellion- Oh what’s his name- Ryan? Are you still friends with the Miller boy?”

“Yuuuup.” I smirk. He used to give old Mrs. Nesbit a run for her money -we both did, but generally Ryan was the one who received punishment.

“Humph,” Edna grunts and focuses on her folding until another question dawns on her. “Any girls…?”

I choke on a laugh as I set a handful of little pink socks on the table. “Uh… No, not really.”

“No… Promiscuity?” She asks, turning her wizened face to me.

I meet her gaze. “No, Edna.”

“That’s the good boy,” she says, bobbing her head and shifting her focus back to her folding.



It’s about five ‘o’ clock at night when mom and I climb inside the dark purple minivan and set off for home. We’re quiet for most of way except for when we exchange a few comments about the music that’s playing on the radio. When we reach our house on Aspen Drive, we are both silent. Mom takes the keys out of ignition and turns to me. “Hey, Cam, think you could grab the mail?”

I sigh. “Sure.”

“Thank you,” mom says, getting out of the car.

“Sure.” My response is masked by the slamming of my car door.

Outside it’s cooled down quite a bit since this afternoon. Now it’s comfortably warm as I walk down the driveway to the mailbox. The sun lies low in the sky to the west. It should be dark in a few hours.

We didn’t get much mail today, just a few bills and a Macy’s catalogue. I flip absently through the catalogue as I walk. As I’m just about to reach the door, I trip over something on the front step.

“What?” I kneel down and pick up a little brown package with my name and today’s date.
I head inside and leave the other mail on the kitchen counter and take the package to my room. Once inside I belly flop onto my bed and open the brown paper sack and reach inside. I pull out a thick packet.

“What?” I whisper again and begin to read.

Last Will and Testament of Stanleus Charles O’Connell

I, Stanleus Charles O’Connell of Manhattan, New York…

Something falls out of the packet and lands on my lap.
I lay the will next to me and pick up the little object. It’s a card- a debit card- and a little stickynote is attached to it. I read the note.

Cameron, you have in your hands access to my life’s fortune. You will be given till the 22nd of July to spend it.

-Stanley
Pin:…

“The hell…?” I mutter to myself and pick up the will again. “Stanleus…”

“Cam! Dinner’s ready!”

I sit up abruptly and shove the papers and the card under my pillow. “Coming!”