Chapter Text
His phone starts buzzing in his pocket. With a sigh, Bucky reaches into his pocket and glances at the screen. It's the same unidentified number that's been calling him over and over again. He doesn't usually answer numbers he doesn't know, so it's been bouncing to voicemail.
His thumb hovers over the red icon to dismiss the call, then he sighs and swipes the green icon.
"Hello?"
"Hi, I'm looking for James Barnes, please?"
"Speaking."
"Oh, I'm so glad I've been able to get a hold of you!" Bucky feels a shot of guilt in his stomach. "My name is Karen. I'm calling from Murdock and Nelson, an attorney's office."
"What is this about?" Bucky asks. None of his friends are in legal trouble (as far as he knows).
"This is in regards to the estate of Eloise Buchanan," Karen explains.
Eloise Buchanan? "Great Aunt Eloise died?"
"Oh." A brief inhale on the other end. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you." There's an awkward pause. "Would you be able to come into the office sometime this week to go over her bequest to you?"
"Sure."
"Great." She sounds relieved. "When would you like to come in? Mr. Nelson doesn't have a lot of availability tomorrow, but he does have a slot or two open late afternoon on Thursday. Would that work for your schedule?"
Bucky mentally reviews his own schedule. "I finish up at three on Thursday. I can do after that."
"Great. I'll schedule you for four o'clock." She gives him an address and Bucky taps it into his phone. "I look forward to seeing you, Mr. Barnes."
"Thanks, Karen. I'll see you then." He taps the button to hang up and looks at the blank screen for a moment before putting his phone away. What could his great-aunt possibly have left him? He doesn't think he's seen her since he was about seven, when they'd go to visit her around Christmas. It was Connecticut or something - an interminable drive for a little boy through endless snowy scenery. They'd stopped visiting her suddenly, and his mom had never explained why.
Maybe he'll ask his mom.
His call goes to voicemail. "Hey, Mom. I just got a weird call from Great Aunt Eloise's lawyer. They said that she left me something, but they wouldn't go into detail. Do you know what it could be? I'm out of work, so call me whenever. Love you. Bye." He hangs up and stuffs his phone back into his pocket, then rejoins the flow of humanity on the sidewalk.
The meeting with the lawyer hangs over his head for the next few days, lurking at the back of his thoughts as he goes through his day. When he's not on a phone call or reviewing a problem for a customer, he tries again and again to remember anything he and his great aunt bonded over, or anything special she showed him, or anything that might be useful. He keeps running up against his faulty memory, and all he can recall is the way she smelled, like lavender and lemon.
His mom is also not a lot of help.
"I don't know, honey," she says apologetically. "Aunt Eloise had a lot of knickknacks - she might have earmarked any of them for you."
"She never mentioned anything special?"
"No, I don't think so. I hope you'll let your father and I know when you do find out! Maybe she left you the hotel." His mom laughs.
Bucky pauses mid-pace, staring at the far wall of the break room. “The hotel?” He’d always just thought it was her house .
Her very large house, that had a front desk, and strangers staying in it.
Oh.
"Oh, yes, don't you remember? We'd go to visit her there every Christmas."
"Do you think that's likely?"
"I doubt it. I know she was living there until she passed, but I imagine her estate will sell it."
"Mom, why did we stop visiting her?"
Down the line, Bucky hears his mom inhale, then breathe out. She makes a sound like she's about to say something, then the line goes silent.
"Mom?"
"I have to go, honey. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Okay. Talk to you later. Love you."
"I love you too." She ends the call, and Bucky shifts the phone to look at the smiling picture of her on his screen. That was … weird. She was definitely avoiding the question. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that his mom didn't want to talk about it - but it hadn't been bad enough to cut off communication with her entirely. Maybe his dad or sister would be more open about it.
On Thursday, about fifteen minutes before the appointment, Bucky checks the address on his phone against the address on the building in front of him. The numbers match, so he breathes in, shakes the nerves out of his shoulders, and goes in.
"Can I help you?" the bored-looking security guard at the front desk asks.
"I have an appointment at four o'clock with Nelson and Murdock."
The security guard nods. "Sign in. Third floor."
"Thanks."
When the elevator doors open on the third floor, Bucky finds himself directly in front of a glass wall inscribed with the words "NELSON AND MURDOCK, ATTORNEYS AT LAW."
"Found it," he murmurs, then pushes the door open. The young woman at the front desk looks up and smiles at him. Bucky smiles back, appreciative. She's about his age, very pretty, with long straight blonde hair and clear blue eyes.
"I've got a four o'clock appointment with Mr. Nelson," he says. "James Barnes?"
"It's nice to see you in person, Mr. Barnes," she says. "Have a seat. Mr. Nelson is finishing up on a call."
Bucky nods and perches in one of the seats in the waiting area. As he waits, one of the doors in the suite opens and a young man in a suit and dark glasses steps out, his white cane tapping along the floor.
"Karen, I'm going to get coffee, you want anything?"
"No thanks. Well ... a chai latte?"
"You got it." The man turns his head to Bucky. "Good afternoon. Sorry, no coffee for you."
Bucky laughs. "I'm caffeinated enough."
The man grins and goes out.
"That's Mr. Murdock," Karen explains. She checks her watch. "I thought he was running late for his coffee run."
About two minutes after four, the other door opens. "Karen, is Mr. Barnes here?"
"He is."
"Great. Come in, Mr. Barnes."
Bucky gathers himself and nods to Karen, then steps into the office. The man waiting behind the desk is tall and burly with light hair, and he holds a hand out.
"Franklin Nelson. I've been handling your great-aunt's affairs. Please, have a seat." He gestures for Bucky to sit and resumed his own seat, picking up a folder from the top of his desk. He opens it briefly and then offers it to Bucky.
"Eloise made a very specific and rather unusual bequest to you," Nelson says. "Did you know she owned an inn in Connecticut?"
Bucky's mom's words ring in his head. Maybe she left you the hotel.
"She left me the hotel?"
"She did indeed. Along with a generous allowance to assist with its upkeep, although - well, have a look in the folder."
Bucky opens the folder and feels his childhood Christmases come rushing back to him. The hotel looks the same as it did when he was seven, all intricate woodwork and glass-fronted curio cabinets.
Next to the sheaf of pictures is a thin packet of papers stapled together. Bucky skims it and when he finds the allowance, his eyebrows shoot straight up. Just that is significantly more than he makes answering help desk calls.
In order to qualify for the allowance and ownership of the Newburgh Inn , the paper continues, James must take up residence at the inn for no less than ninety continuous days, and must retain the current staff. He will find them to be loyal, excellent employees.
"I have to live there for three months?" Bucky says, head jerking up to look at Nelson. "What about my apartment here? My job?"
"That's up to you, Mr. Barnes," Nelson says, completely unhelpfully. "If you choose to pursue ownership, your aunt's allowance will cover the apartment's rent for the ninety days. As for your job…" He shrugs. "Your great aunt, when I had the pleasure of working with her, seemed perfectly happy making a living at her inn."
"How long do I have to make a decision?" Bucky asks.
Nelson looks at a calendar on the wall. "The end of the year. About a month."
"What happens if I don't take it?"
"Ownership would then transfer to the next in the order of succession, meaning it would go to your mother, Carolyn. If Carolyn Barnes elects not to take it, the inn would be sold and the profits donated."
Bucky sighs. "If I go visit ahead of time, would that constitute agreeing? Or is it okay if I go have a look?"
"I think that would be fine."
"Thanks." He knows he can't do that to his mom, and the idea of selling the hotel makes him sad. Also sad, though, is leaving New York - his apartment, his job, friends, family.
"That's all I need to go over with you," Nelson says. "Take the folder with you. Let's schedule to meet again at the end of the year to hear your final decision."
"Thanks, Mr. Nelson." Bucky stands and holds out a hand. Nelson shakes it and Bucky leaves, saying goodbye to Karen as well.
As soon as he's out on the street, he gets his phone out of his pocket and sends a text to four contacts:
Who's got time off they can use next week? I just inherited a hotel.
Text sent, he taps to his contacts and immediately dials his mom.