Free The Legacy by Patricia Kiyono Page A

California.
    She barely had time to lower her hand when the door swung open and a tiny pair of arms encircled her waist.
    â€œLeigh, how nice to see you! Come in, come in.” Andy’s mom, Lily, stood barely five feet tall, but even at fifty-something she was full of energy and always exuded a warm welcome.
    The petite woman took Leigh's hand and led her in. Leigh loved this house. Beautiful blossoms adorned every surface, and the furniture was well worn and comfortable. The entire family was involved in the business, begun by Andy's great-great grandfather at the turn of the century. Andy had worked there since junior high, working his way up from stocking the retail store to driving delivery trucks. Now that he was a CPA, he spent his time in the corporate offices.
    Andy had told her another branch of the Tanaka family ran a similar business in Japan. Every few years, he and his siblings and cousins would go overseas to visit their relatives. She envied him that connection with extended family. The Beckers were not close-knit. They got together at Christmas time—for weddings and funerals—but she barely knew her cousins.
    Lily led her to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? A snack?”
    â€œOh no, thank you,” Leigh replied. “I just had dinner. Andy told me he wanted to show me something.”
    â€œSure. Go on back.” Lily waved toward the back door. “You know the way.”
    Leigh nodded her thanks and walked outside. Though Andy spent much of his free time with his family in the main house, he lived in what used to be the caretaker’s cottage. He had remodeled it to suit his needs—a bedroom, a small kitchen, a bathroom, and a weight room. But she couldn’t find him anywhere.
    â€œAndy? Where are you?” The cottage wasn't that large. Where would he be?
    â€œOver here.” His voice came from behind the wall. “In the storage shed.”
    The storage shed was attached to the back of the cottage, but she had never been inside. She retraced her steps and walked around. Andy had left the door open, and she stepped through. She curled her nose at the musty smell hitting her as soon as soon as she entered.
    She blinked, adjusting her eyes to the relative darkness. A single bare bulb in the ceiling provided the only light. All around her were dusty old file cabinets. These must contain the older records for Tanaka Farms, she thought. At the back, she finally located her friend, kneeling on the floor, hunched over an old wooden crate. He was still dressed in his work clothes—khakis, a tucked-in polo shirt, and loafers—and Leigh briefly wondered how he managed to keep himself looking so clean and crisp, even inside the dusty shed. He turned toward her, excitement lighting his face.
    He motioned for her to join him. Andy didn’t speak when a look or a gesture would suffice. It wasn’t that he couldn’t talk. He had managed to deliver an eloquent, though brief, valedictory address when they graduated from high school. But he said only what he needed to say.
    Leigh made her way to him. The crate looked different from anything she had ever seen. It was black, inlaid with delicate gold flowers. Though it was covered with a thick layer of dust, she could tell it was a treasure. Inside were some old Japanese clothes, a scroll, and two swords, one long and ornately decorated, the other shorter and plainer.
    â€œI wonder how your family got these.”
    â€œDad says we had a samurai ancestor.”
    â€œIt would have been over a hundred and forty years ago. The samurai were outlawed in 1870.”
    Andy’s hands stopped. He sat up and stared at his friend. A single raised brow communicated his question.
    She shrugged. “I read about it.”
    His eyes crinkled and his lips curved. “Your manga?”
    Andy was the only person who didn't tease or belittle her about her passion for the manga comics. “Yeah, I