| Every beginning starts with an ending and the late Mr. Richard Chandler’s daughter is no exception. As funerals go, his was quite typical for the sleepy community in Northbrook, Oregon. Traditionally mourners will emotionally cling to the deceased and their family until their carnivorous need for attention is satiated or a generous bribe is offered, the true spirit of Last Wills and Testaments. However, in defense of Northbrook’s vultures, Mr. Chandler was an eccentric local celebrity worthy of their morbid curiosity. After his first wife committed suicide, an exquisitely executed high dive into the hydrangeas from a three-story roof while their child watched wide eyed from the swing set below, his latter second wife left him after only a year of marital bliss claiming irreconcilable differences, “He talks to his first wife more than me!” Survived only by his twenty-two year old daughter, Vashti, Mr. Chandler was expected to leave her a comfortable sum and their home. Instead of the expected estate, Mr. Chandler left explicit instructions with his attorneys; Vashti must choose her inheritance, either her father’s small fortune with the home she knew or a letter from her belated mother and a deed to some wilderness property in Northern California. It was Thursday when the attorneys stated her father’s will and she had three days to choose between her dead parents. only an envelope with a sobering note, a deed to their mother’s home in California and his library. Michael and Vashti Chandler were more stunned by their father’s sudden death than their new financial perils. Michael was twenty “When will they leave?” Vashti’s blond curls hung over her face, hiding a stormy glare. Michael took a deep breath and crossed his arms. “You’ll be polite Miss. Vashti and a proper hostess. Take this tray out there and bring back that empty one.” Bronagh, the Chandler’s housekeeper and commanding general of public affairs, | 
