The Real Inheritance
“Miss Ashford,” he said.
“That’s me,” I said, straightening in my chair. “Can I help you with something?”
“My name is Jonathan Woods,” he said. He drew a business card from his breast pocket. It was cream-colored and embossed.
“Woods and Associates. Attorneys at Law.”
“I was your grandmother’s lawyer,” he said.
“My grandmother?” I asked, a hard breath hitting me. “Genevieve passed away three years ago.”