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I got home just in time for the funeral.

To make sure there is no misunderstanding, other than blowing me, fucking me and allowing me to eat her pussy, Mrs. Wilton’s one and only goal in life was to make sure that no one knew about our relationship.

We’d been very good about that. Everyone in town believed that I was the kid who did the kind of handyman things around the house that a woman Mrs. Wilton’s age could no longer do.

Her passing left everyone in town in mourning. Her funereal was the biggest the town had ever seen. Schools closed. In an emergency meeting of the Board of Education there was a unanimous vote to re-name the high school in her honor.

I was there for the wake, the church service and the burial. I lingered as long as possible without being too conspicuous.

I returned to campus. I had a few finals to take but I was effectively done. It was just a matter of waiting for graduation.

I lived in an apartment near campus with four other guys; we each had our own room. As you know, I spent a lot of time on a bus going to and from Mrs. Wilton’s.

Now that she was gone, I hung around the campus center and the apartment.

One day, a man showed up at our apartment asking for me. “I’m Martin Tremont, can I help you?”

“I’m Herbert Mathers. I’m an attorney. Here’s my card. Is there someplace we can talk in private?”

We were standing on the porch of the apartment building.

I led him to my room. It was a mess. I cleared space on my desk chair for him, and I sat on my bed. “Mr. Tremont, what was your relationship with Mrs. Winifred Wilton?”

“What’s this all about?” I wasn’t going to tell this stranger anything about my relationship with Mrs. Wilton. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. For over sixty years Mrs. Wilton had carefully cultivated a reputation. I wasn’t going to tell anyone that she was a fucking cocksucker who liked a guy my age eating her pussy.

“Mr. Tremont, over the years Mrs. Wilton and her husband built quite an impressive nest egg. She had no children or nieces or nephews. She left it all to you.”

I was stunned. I recalled that Mr. Wilton owned some kind of business; a factory of some kind. I couldn’t remember the details.

If I was stunned by what Mr. Mathers said, I almost fainted when he told me how much Mrs. Wilton left me. “My firm drew up her will and my associates, and I could not understand why she’d leave over fifty million dollars to the kid who did handyman stuff around her house. Was there something else?”

He didn’t sound like he was trying to find out if I had a sexual relationship with Mrs. Wilton and like I said, I wasn’t going to say anything. “No, man. I just mowed the lawn, changed light bulbs, unclogged her toilet, shoveled her driveway after a snowstorm, that kind of stuff. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I sat with her less than a year ago and put her wishes and desires in legal terms. Our firm can help you invest the funds anyway you wish. You’ll have to come down to the office at your earliest convenience.”

“I will Mr. Mathers and thank you.”

“One more thing. She left you a letter.” He handed me a sealed envelope. “I’ll leave you. Call when you’d like to meet. Hey, congratulations on graduating. Any plans?”

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