The Brownstone Buyout of Five Hundred Million

It rained in Vancouver for a full week. I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, watching my phone screen light up and go dark, dark and light again. An unfamiliar international number. It called three times. On the fourth, I answered. "Sherry, it's me. Nicholas." I said nothing. "Sherry, don't hang up, please." His voice was fast, ingratiating. "That old family townhouse of ours is being redeveloped. The buyout payout came through. Five hundred million. Mom told me to find you. She wants you to come back and split the money."