Casserole

(A little bit of Flash Fiction)

"Stephen? I'm sorry, I had no..." Mr. Dyne's words died in his throat.
Stephen cut him short, abruptly, rudely. "No more Mr. Dyne, no more! Our family lawyer for years, and you'd tell me you didn't see this coming?! I'll have your head for this!" Stephen's voice rose somewhat at that point.
Mr. Dyne said no more. He sat there behind his desk, cigar smoke twisting lazily up from his cigar toward the cloud-layer of expensive taste marking the temperature inversion near the ceiling. Mr. Dyne had just read Stephen's parents' Will to him. As a lawyer Mr. Dyne could have no opinion of the Will's contents, nor an opinion on the recipients’ responses. If the Lawyer that was Mr. Dyne could have voiced an opinion, then yes, he probably had seen this coming.

Stephen grabbed his holdall, storming out of the office. He ranted to himself, tormented, if he'd been disavowed Georgia would get even less. He stomped off toward their apartment, the crowded sidewalk parting before him. It wasn't long before he was stood before his apartment, keys rattling in the door. Stephen opened the door, strode in.

The reading had started well. Stephen passed on his sister Georgia's apologies, "She's been in pieces, Ma and Pa's passing you understand. She doesn't talk about it, she was their favorite, came as quite a shock!"
Mr. Dyne nodded, knocked the ash off his cigar and balanced it on the ashtray to the side on his desk, "That's understandable, you both have my deepest sympathies. Georgia still has to come in to sign, but that can wait. Shall we begin?"
Minutes later Stephen discovered how much he hated his sister, his parents, and now Mr. Dyne was adding himself to that list. Stephen got nothing, except for the apartment he shared with Georgia.
"So Stephen, all I need from Georgia is her signature, witnessed by myself, and her share could be transferred to her account. You say there's no way she could come in?"
Stephen bit his tongue, a quickening tang filled his mouth. "Perhaps Mr. Dyne, you could come to dinner, to see Georgia? Really she's too beside herself to travel, and makes a mean casserole".
Another puff and Mr. Dyne declined, "My apologies Stephen, I have clients I must meet with this evening, perhaps another time?"
"That wont do" Stephen growled, reaching down into his holdall, "Georgia's been cooking all day long".

"Georgia, don't be rude, Mr. Dyne's come all this way to see you. No, nothing to say? Fine. Oh yes, the will, you get nothing, that I made sure of". Stephen reached into the holdall and pulled out the meat cleaver, dumped it into the sink. He then pulled Mr. Dyne's head out of the holdall, and put that on the fridge shelf next to Georgia's head. "Didn't see this coming?" he said, closing the door on them.
Stephen took a bowl and ladled some casserole out of the crock pot, sat down at the table. It was delicious, Georgia really did make a fine casserole.