Mo sat down and wrapped us both up in her arms. We sat quietly for a while before Mom and Mo went back downstairs. I stayed behind, listening to the vines rustling behind my bedroom door.

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4

A few days later, we waited anxiously in the living room for the estate attorney, Mrs. Redmond, to come by. As we sat on the couch, my bedroom door creaked open and a tangle of vines crept across the floor. I jumped up and shoved them back inside, closing the door.

“They’re not gonna come out while she’s here, are they?” Mom asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “Have you been in my room? It’s a jungle in there. All my plants are coming out of their pots.”

“You think it’s because you’re anxious?” Mom asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe?”

I hadn’t stopped thinking about what an inheritance might mean for us. I Googled what it meant when somebody left you an estate and had gotten all kinds of answers, from sprawling mansions and car collections to piles of useless junk. Some man in Florida made headlines when his long-lost uncle willed him an entire storage unit filled with creepy old dolls. I was not tryna have my life ruined by the real-life Annabelle, so I told myself that we’d walk away if there was any mention of dolls.

The doorbell rang.

We all stared at the front door for a few seconds before Mo got up.

“Okay,” she said. “Think positive.”

On the other side of the door stood a tall woman in an ill-fitting tan skirt suit. She had her dark hair slicked back into a bun, a streak of gray down the center of her head. She had a deep brown complexion, small dark eyes, and a wide full mouth.

“Hi there,” she said. She stuck out her hand and the briefcase she was holding popped open, sending a shower of papers onto the floor. “Ugh. Sorry.” She knelt and started stuffing them back inside, stealing a quick glance at me as Mo helped her gather the rest of her things.

“Please come in and have a seat,” Mom said.

The woman stumbled in and sat in the armchair across from me.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Mo asked.

“Oh no, I’m fine,” said the woman. “You must be Briseis.” She smiled warmly at me. “Briseis. That name sounds so familiar.” She strummed her fingers across the top of her briefcase. “It’s from the Greek mythology, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“Mythology lovers, huh?” she asked.

“Not really,” I said, glancing at my mom.

“Sorry,” said the woman, looking flustered. “I’m already getting sidetracked.” She opened her briefcase, shuffling some papers around. “I’m Melissa Redmond. I represent the estate of Circe Colchis. I understand her younger sister, Selene, was your birth mother.”