Inheritance by Judith Michael Read Free Book Online

I've never found another like it."
    Laura stopped and took the shell he was holding out to her. Pink and white and rose, it curled in on itself like a whirlpool reflecting the sunset. She traced its whorls with her fingertip: silken smooth except for a tiny raised ridge in the center of each curve. "I've never seen one like it either," she said, not telling him that she had never seen any shell at all.
    "Like people," the old man said. "Like fingerprints. Each has its own character. No, keep it," he added as she handed it back. "I like to give them away to people who appreciate them. Just as I like to share the morning solitude with someone who appreciates it." He bent closer to peer at her. "But

    Judith Michael
    I've intruded on your solitude, haven't I? You thought you had all this to yourself and then I pop up and obstruct the view."
    Instinctively Laura looked at the wide expanse of empty beach all around them and a small smile curved the comers of her mouth. The old man saw it and smiled broadly. "You think there might be room for both of us? Of course we can go our separate ways, but we might also share our pleasure." His speech had an old-fashioned cadence that reminded Laura of lxx>ks she had read, and his smile was warm and private, drawing her toward him.
    But she held back. He had known she didn't want anyone else on the beach, and no thief can afford to hang around a mind reader. She put her hands on the handlebars, ready to walk off. "I don't own it. It's somebody's private beach; we shouldn't even be here."
    "But now that we are, we can enjoy it," he said gravely, and she looked up, and met his eyes, slate gray, serious, intent on her own. "Are there a great many things that you do own and wish to protect from intruders?"
    "No," Laura said sharply—why did people have to pry?— and she turned again to leave. "I don't own anything," she said over her shoulder.
    "Yourself," he responded quietly. "And I hope you're the only one who does." Laura frowned. "Aren't you valuable enough to own?" the old man asked.
    She looked back at him. "I never thought about it."
    "I think about it," he said. "About myself, that is. How much I value myself, how much pride I take in myself." He studied her gravely as she stood some distance away, like a wary bird poised to fly. "Perhaps you don't take enough pride in yourself. I'm sure you care about yourself, but perhaps not enough, or for the wrong reasons. You might give some thought to that. Having faith in yourself."
    Laura nodded, fascinated but also afraid, because once again the old man had seen inside her. How could he know about the things she'd been wanting for over a year, almost more than anything else?
    He was still studying her about eighteen, he thought, and still gangly; not yet a woman. Long, well-formed legs, though, with good muscles, probably from riding her bicycle.

    Inheritance
    Her hair was tied back with a ribbon, and she wore a cotton shift and sandals. She should wear silk, the old man thought suddenly, and then wondered why he would think that about a rather ordinary, pretty girl with poor posture and an uncomfortable wariness in her stance. Perhaps it was her eyes: daric blue, almost too big for her slender, delicate face, showing in their depths a strong will that did not yet know its own strength or direction.
    "Of course," he went on, "usually it takes a long time to have faith in ourselves. I've had seventy-eight years to work at it. But I think you'll do it;, one of these days you'll truly believe you are the most valuable possession you have." He smiled at her again. "And you'll protect yourself from intruders."
    Laura stared at him. Without realizing it, she had moved closer and now stood beside him. "I have thought about it," she confided. "I'm going to change my whole life. I have to figure out how to do it, but someday I'm going to change everything; I won't even look the way I look now— '*
    "I like the way you look," the old man said