The Inheritance

My name is Bill Knight and I'm 39 years old. I'm tall, six feet three inches, two hundred twenty pounds, sandy hair, green eyes; I have a muscular build and keep myself in shape. I work out a lot, but I also remodel houses, doing most of the work myself.

I'm divorced after a fourteen year marriage. My wife was the chairperson of a fundraising effort for our local library and she and the co-chair, a lawyer named Bo Jackson, decided that some of their time would be well spent fucking instead of fundraising.

How I found out; I walked in on them. He was buried in her pussy, her dress was up over her backside and her panties pulled to one side and she was bent over our kitchen table, In my house, our house.

I came home at 8:45 in the morning, having left for work at 7:30. I'd forgotten a set of plans I'd been working on for a remodel I was doing. I got all the way to the job site and remembered that I'd left the plans in my home office on the desk. Dottie, my wife, would be busy planning her fundraiser, so I wouldn't bother her, just slip in and out without being noticed, no problem.

So as not to disturb her meeting, I saw the guy's car in the driveway, I just slipped around back and thought I'd use the kitchen sliding glass door to enter the house and go into my office, right off the kitchen, get my plans and leave the same way. Turns out, they were using the kitchen. I rounded the outside corner of the house, came to the sliding door, looked in and there they were, banging away with their backs to me.

I stood there watching, I could hear them talking to one another, "oof oof oof oof" she was grunting with each thrust.

"Like that do ya little lady?" He asked, panting slightly.

"Oh, yes, oof oof. I oof love it. You are oof oof big, so big."

"Does pencil dick come home for lunch today?" He asked not missing a beat.

"Oof no, he has a luncheon oof appointment with his client oof oof. I'm going to come, don't stop." She uttered.

He began to speed up his thrusting; I slid the door open and stepped inside the room, standing less than five feet from the copulating couple. They did not hear me; they were making so much noise themselves I stood there as she started orgasming.

"Oh, I'm coming," He said.

She was in the throes of her orgasm and I just reached between their bodies, grabbed his cock with my hand and pulled him out of her, his cock squirting as I did.

"Don't pull out, I need that, push it in," She demanded, turning her head toward him, actually me.

I held his cock with my right hand and hit him with my left hand laying his nose over onto his cheek, blood squirting, his cock still squirting. He fell to the ground; he'd not spoken a word.

"Oh, Bill." She said, still in the throes of her orgasm, but it was fading.

"Dottie, get your fucking stuff and get out. We're done. Move it." I said.

"Bill, I'm....sorry. I don't know what..."

"Move or I'll move you bitch, choose which right now." I warned. She'd never heard me speak like this. She was still standing bent partially, her skirt above her waist, her panties pulled to the side, with her pussy lips engorged, poking out, moisture dribbling onto her legs. She had his first ropes of come on her ass.

Her lawyer lover was on his way to his feet with anger written in blood on his face. I hit him in his face again, now breaking his cheek bone. He was out for the count.

"I'm so sorry, honey. Please...," She started.

I grabbed a hand full of her hair, wadded up her dress in back and walked her to the front door, opening it and moving her to the porch. I closed and locked the door, bolting it and using the safety chain. Then I walked back over to her lover and rolled him outside the kitchen door, into the back yard. He lay there with no pants on; they were inside the house, behind the locked glass door. I rifled through his pockets, threw his keys in a parts bin in my office removed his billfold and hid it in my office too. Then I wadded his pants, suit coat, socks and underwear and put them in the washing machine with two cups of bleach and started it on the hot water only cycle. I did all this while I was waiting for the cops.

I had dialed 9-1-1, told them to send officers. That I'd just found my wife and her lover having sex and there was a fight. They were both outside the house, but that I was inside and would wait for the police indoors.

"Are there weapons involved? The dispatcher asked.

"Nope, just fists." I responded. "I think I broke my hand, and I think his nose is broken. My wife is in front and he is in back right now."

The lawyer, Mr. Jackson, filed charges against me, and I was arrested a few days later for assault and battery and theft of personal property.

It didn't matter to me, I was all in anyhow and if I didn't work she didn't eat. That was fine with me. I'd gladly sit this out in jail. Besides, I'd had time to spend the two hundred thirty dollars in his billfold on frivolous stuff I thought I wanted. His credit cards never were found.

He, her lover, was pretty seriously hurt as it turned out and my hand was broken. A couple of years later, the news that he'd become addicted to Oxycontin, was music to my ears. He'd gotten hooked on pain meds.

I spent 60 days in jail while the trial went on, refusing to bail myself out or to accept anyone else's bail offering. At the end of the trial, the judge sentenced me to 1 year in county lockup with two months already having been served. I smiled at the judge, and never looked back at her as I left the courtroom.

I had been operating my business by the skin of my teeth. We were always close with money. Times were hard and I was barely surviving, so it didn't take long, with no savings and no income for her to fall behind with the bills. Every extra dime I could scrape together went for tools, materials, things I needed for the job I was on. I was building my business, but it was far from built.

I thought we were in it together and would make it because we were dedicated not to live paycheck to paycheck working for the other guy, but building, working together owning our own business. Dottie did my books so she knew very well there were no funds. I do not know what came over her to fuck around like she did, but it destroyed us. I suppose it was his powers of persuasion as a lawyer. She probably was vulnerable at 14 years in the marriage mark, but so was I, and I was faithful to her. I do not know if she cheated on me with anyone else, but it doesn't matter to me any more.

She'd leave the marriage, as I would; broke. We lost the house, lost my tools, my two work trucks but she got to keep her old 2002 Oldsmobile. We didn't have the money to file for divorce, so we just went our separate ways.

My folks were extremely upset with us. They wanted grandchildren and I wasn't giving them any. My brothers, I had three, all had kids, but they wanted some from us all. My dad broke off communication with me, disowning me for being a brute. My mom must have agreed, because she never indicated I was welcome or that she wanted to see me or talk to me.

So, I spent my year in jail and was released penniless. I still had job skills and did find a job right away. One of my competitors always had admired my work and offered me work when I asked, without hesitation. I was so grateful for that.

After a few months, I found out Dottie was in the next town over. I spent some of my meager earnings and filed for divorce against her. She never fought it and it went through in six months, the mandatory minimum.

A couple of years later, my folks were killed in a violent car wreck. It was foggy and they didn't slow down. They hit a semi who was just creeping along in the fog, and then a second semi slammed into them. They died in a fiery crash.

My brothers became wealthy men. They received cash, stocks, worldly goods, mother's jewelry, several rental properties and I got a symbolic remembrance, too.

I inherited a house. It was a rundown firetrap slum house in a Northeastern Colorado small town. The value was $7,000, according to the inventory in the will. It was symbolic, I figured, because it was my folks telling me what they thought of our relationship with me, of me, run down and worthless.

However, the old house did have a renter, Caroline Canter and her 4 year old daughter Gracie. She was a late twenties widow, whose husband had been killed in Iraq about the same week as their daughter was being born.

The town that the house was in was 80 miles from where I lived. My dad had foreclosed on someone and took the house away, and then he rented it out, never putting any money into it to fix it up, just collecting rent.

I drove over to the town and met my renter and saw my property. I was shocked at the squalor and poor conditions. She was paying $350 per month plus utilities. The heat bill was astronomical because the windows were no good and there was no insulation. The place was a heap.

I told Caroline that as of today, she was not paying rent. I also said that if it was ok, I'd begin extensive remodeling and they'd have to live in part of the house while I was working on another part.

She was floored, but said, "Sure, that'd be great Bill."

I had to have materials, so I asked my boss if he'd let me have the leftovers from the jobs we were doing. There were always a lot of waste and leftover materials. It beat having to haul them to the dump, so he agreed. I also asked him for permission to work 3 - 13 hour days per week and take the rest of the week and work on my rental house. He agreed to try it, though he was skeptical.

I went to the local bank and was able to get a $2,500 loan using the rental house as collateral. Actually, the lot and the sewer and water taps were worth $25,000 or more, if a guy were building a new property. So, I convinced the banker to let me have a little cash so I could buy some things that I couldn't get from our jobsites. It would be tight, but I'd do the best I could.

I moved Caroline and her girl into one bedroom, one bathroom, the kitchen, and closed off the living room and two other bedrooms. I decided to just gut the insides and rebuild the floor plan.

The very first day, I tore into the wall in the back bedroom closet; there was a metal box in it, embedded in the wall. The box was twice the size of a shoe box, same depth about, but longer and wider and, quite heavy. That old house had originally been built in 1898. That box was in an original wall. It had been there over one hundred ten years. I opened the box; I had to cut an old lock off it with a hacksaw.

With wonder and awe, I pried open the lid to that old metal box. Inside it were stacks and stacks of $50 and $100 bills. I found 330 one ounce gold coins, all minted from 1878 to 1898. They were in new condition, still in their original bank issued paper rolls.

Additionally, I found a silk purse with 63 large diamonds in it, all cut and huge and shining like the day they were put in that bag. There were also other coins, silver dollars and some very old coins from the early 1800's that I didn't know much about.

I was stunned. I sat there on the floor of that old worthless firetrap of a house and wondered what my folks would think about this, a treasure hidden amongst their statement of ruin to me.

Back in my home town, my next door neighbor, Dave Relihan, was a retired guy who was really into old coins and money. He bought and sold on eBay all the time, constantly telling me, "Hey Bill, you gotta see this new Silver Eagle I bought last week." That type of stuff. I needed to go see him first thing.

I took some of that borrowed $2500 and rented a cozy house for Caroline and Gracie. I said, "It's just too much, this remodel. There is too much to do, you guys move in here and I'll let you move back in to my house when I'm done with it."

"But, I can't afford the rent on this new place, Bill." Caroline said haltingly. She'd dealt with my dad and knew he wouldn't give her anything, so she was hesitant with me.

"I know, Caroline. But this house is going to be too dirty and too much work and with you in it, it might be unsafe at times. I'll feel better with you all here until I'm done." I told her.

I loaded up my box of old coins and cash and took it home. I called Dave, my neighbor and asked him if he'd be interested in selling a bunch of old coins and old currency for me.

"Sure, whaddya got?" He asked thinking I just had a few old coins I'd found.

"I have a lot, Dave. We need to make an agreement." I said.

I said I wanted him to list them on eBay and get the best price he could. We worked out that he'd get 5% of whatever they brought.

He said, "Well, the best price would be from coin enthusiasts personally, go to coin shows and sell them, and he'd contact coin hounds that he knew. He said, "We could even have an auction, if you have enough." He said that tongue in cheek like I'd think I was doing big business.

But, when he saw the amount and the rarity of what I had, he was stupefied. We sat down and listed each coin and bill, he graded them and then looked them up. As collector's items, I had somewhere close to two million two hundred seventy thousand dollars' worth of old coins and out of circulation currency, according to his estimates. They were all in pristine condition, some very old and rare and worth way more than face value.

Dave set about putting everything in protective sleeves and coin holders. We needed a plan.

I felt like I could trust my neighbor. He was born and raised in our town, I knew his folks and I knew him all my life. He was a hard worker and had raised a good family and then was widowed. I'd sooner trust him than just about anyone. It turns out that was a very good move on my part. He realized we needed to be quiet about this find, that we were subject to theft or even worse if the wrong information became available to the wrong people.

Dave had scrupulous morals and was accountable to me to the penny. He volunteered, every single time we got together, the latest facts and figures, inventory level and what the markets were doing if anything on what I had left to sell. He was in tall cotton himself, enjoying this new task. He'd found a new purpose and was making good money for himself on the side.

I told him, "Let's sell it off a little at a time. Sell a little on eBay. Take some to the various coin shows, take selected items to some of your coin collector buddies and let them bid against one another on them."

It worked. Over the next six months we sold about one fourth of it. Only it brought a million and fifty thousand dollars. We were going to come out great.

Meanwhile, I decided to tear the old house down and just build a new one from scratch. It'd be so much better. Now I could afford to buy new materials and it would be a great project for me for the next year. I bought a small camping trailer and moved it onto the lot so I had a place to live. Then I just began tearing it down and hauling it off.

I finally had to quit my old job, it was just too much. My boss wasn't too happy with me, but I could only stretch so far, and with things looking up like they were, I had to set my priorities. Working for him wasn't one of them. But, he'd really done right by me, so I bought his business another van; the kind carpenters use with ladder racks. He was growing and prospering, but was strapped for cash and just couldn't spring for a new truck. It cost me thirty thousand dollars, but it smoothed out the rough edges between us, after he'd given me the opportunity he had. We were going to be ok.

I went over to Caroline and Gracie's house and told them what I was planning to do. After four years as a widow, and with such limited opportunity in this small town, Caroline was overwhelmed with my plans. They were living on welfare and those government benefits that her young marine husband had left, which were minimal. She couldn't afford day care and there were no jobs in that town, anyhow. She volunteered to help me rebuild her house in exchange for her current rent and the daycare I offered to pay for her daughter, when she needed it. I always kept track of her hours and paid her more than the going rate for an apprentice carpenter, deducting her rent and daycare. But she always got some cash extra, so she was tickled with that.

I gladly accepted and we got started. Caroline is a pretty girl; down to earth, next door type, nice figure and extremely sweet disposition. She has brown hair, just to her shoulders, brown eyes and kind of light olive colored skin. She's five feet five inches and weighs about one hundred five pounds. She's lean and small breasted, but she fills her jeans out in royal fashion, with tight buns, great legs and such a pretty smile and endearing look in her eyes.

When the weather was nice, we'd bring Gracie along and keep her in her own fenced in play area, where we could watch her as we worked. When the weather was bad, we had day care for her. It gave Caroline a break from her and it gave us time alone, working on the house. We began to grow closer.

I did not, however, share with Caroline about my windfall. She never asked and I never volunteered where the money was coming from to build this house.

She did want to know more about how I came to own the house, about my marriage and divorce. I told her about my divorce and spending a year in jail because of beating my ex-wife's lover and stealing his billfold. I also told her about my parent's disappointment with me and that they left me the house as a sign that our relationship was in shambles. She lowered her eyes and wouldn't look at me when I said that.

I asked her if my dad had treated her ok. She refused to look at me, and just didn't answer, shrugging her shoulders. That was troubling, indeed.

We were making good progress on the new house. It had taken us three weeks to tear down the old one and haul it off. We were in our sixth month of building on the new one, it was all framed and enclosed, roof on it. It was winter and we were plumbing, wiring, building and working away inside all day, every day.

We'd been going pretty hard, and hadn't really relaxed any during this entire time. By now, Dave had sold off more coins, a few at a time, and I was trying to find a place to hide all that cash. I had a little less than a million dollars in cash.

It was Friday night and we were both exhausted. I said, "Let's knock off for a couple of days, Caroline, recharge and rest some. We haven't taken any time off and we need to see something else for a day."

"Oh, ok," She replied. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just need a break and I'm betting you do too. Let's take Gracie to the Denver Zoo tomorrow, waddya say?" I said.

"Ooh, she's never been to the zoo. She'd love it. I guess I would too, Bill." Caroline replied.

"Ok, we need some supper and then sleep. Go home and I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning, ok?"

We drove the one hundred eighty miles to Denver, stopping in Fort Morgan for a breakfast of sausage, eggs, pancakes, coffee and juice. Gracie just ate off our plates. We were like a family, just us three sitting together sharing the day.

The zoo was a hoot. Grace was totally in love with the animals. She loved the monkeys; Caroline liked the lions and bears. I liked being with Caroline and Gracie. Gracie wore out and I carried her on the last part of the trek around the park.

It was late, "It's three hours back and it's going to be dark. Let's stay up here in Denver tonight; I'll spring for a couple of rooms and our meals." I offered.

"Bill, you've done so much, I don't know how to thank you. Whatever you want is fine with us, we just love being with you, so you decide and we will love it." Caroline answered.

"Tomorrow we'll go by the big aquarium and spend a few hours there, then back, that ok?" I asked.