The crumbling manor greeted Emily with a stale breath and a stubborn hush. She flung the windows wide, letting Mays sunshine spill in, carrying the scent of lilacs that seemed to bloom only in dreams. It had been a month since Grandfather Michael Stevens had passed, and only now had she found the strength to travel back and sift through his belongings.
Michael had been more than a grandfather; after her parents died young, he became her whole family, raising her, teaching her to stand on her own. In recent years their meetings had grown rarework in the county town, the endless rush of days, the perpetual shortage of time. Now, standing in the sitting room where every object whispered his name, Emily chastised herself for every day they had not shared.
A sudden ring cut the silence.
Emily, have you started yet? asked Aunt Gill, her voice oddly tender. Victor and I will be there tomorrow to help with the furniture. Dont touch anything valuable, alright?
Of course, Aunt Gill, Emily replied, eyes fixed on her grandfathers sideboard lined with sea shells. Im just sorting his things, the papers.
Good. After the reading of the will weve all felt a bit awkward Dont be upset that he left you only his books and the piano. He simply wanted to be fair.
Emily clenched her jaw. At the funeral the solicitor had read a will that split the house and the bulk of the estate between his childrenAunt Gill and Uncle Victor. Emily received only the books, an old piano and a set of engraved watchesprecious to her heart but of little market worth.
Everythings fine, Aunt Gill. I dont need anything else.
Exactly! You have your own flat, your own life. Victor and I will need the country house for the summer season. See you tomorrow!
She hung up and exhaled heavily. Grandfather had always said the house would be hers. Who else could I leave it to but you, my dear? You alone understand the meaning of these walls. Perhaps he had changed his mind at the last moment. That was his right.
The whole day Emily spent among the books. Each volume held a memorya battered fairytale collection he read to her at bedtime, school textbooks he used when he taught her maths. Some pages hid dried flowers, old photographs, marginal notes in his neat hand.
By evening she reached his study, a cramped room with a massive oak desk and shelves that seemed to touch the ceiling. As a child he had forbidden her entry without knockingmy little laboratory, he would joke. Here Michael penned his memoirs, kept diaries, sorted archives.
Emily turned over piles of parchment, yellowed envelopes, and in the lower drawer found a bundle of letters tied with twineletters from a grandmother she had never known. Beside them lay a worn leather diary. Opening it, she read an entry dated the previous year: Call S.P. about the new will. Destroy the old one.
Her heart thumped. A new will? The solicitor, Samuel Pearson, had presented only one document.
She kept searching, methodically opening every drawer, every folder. Behind a stack of old newspapers in the credenza she uncovered an envelope stamped: Will. Copy. Original with solicitor S.P. The date on the envelope was a month before Michaels death.
Trembling, Emily slipped the paper out and began to read. In this testament Michael bequeathed the entire house, the land and all valuable items to her, Emily. His children, Gill and Victor, were to receive monetary compensation.
This decision is not driven by favouring one heir over another, the grandfather wrote, but by a desire to keep the family nest intact. Emily is the only one who values this house as a repository of our history, not merely as property. I trust she will preserve it for future generations.
Emily sank into her grandfathers old armchair, disbelief flooding her. Why had the second will never been shown? Did the solicitor know? What now?
Sleep eluded her through the night. She turned on the old bed in her former bedroom, weighing options. Presenting the will would spark a huge scandal. Gill and Victor had already begun planning what to do with the house, dividing the plot. They had never been close to Michael, visiting only on occasion, but did that give them fewer rights?
At dawn, barely sipping her tea, Emily heard a car pull up. Aunt Gill entered first, filling the hallway with her booming voice and brisk motions.
Emily, were here with Megan, she said, nodding toward her daughter, who shuffled reluctantly at the doorway. Well see what we can take now. Victor will arrive later with the movers.
Hello, Emily managed a tight smile. I havent finished sorting
No worries, well help! Gill already began inspecting the furniture. Ill take this sideboard and the bedroom chest. Right, Megan?
Megan shrugged. Whatever, Mum. Im only here for Granddads coin collection, remember?
Yes, of course! Emily, where is the coin collection? He kept that all his life. Megan, you can have it as a keepsake.
A surge of indignation rose in Emily. The numismatic collection had been Michaels pride; he would show her each new piece, recount its story. And now it would go to Megan, who had shown up for the funeral with a sour expression, as if something precious had been ripped away from her.
Aunt Gill, Emily began cautiously, did you speak with the solicitor after the will was read?
Gill froze midsentence, turning sharply. With Samuel? No, why?
Because I think somethings off with the will, Emily said.
What do you mean? Gill narrowed her eyes.
I found a reference to another, later will in his papers.
A heavy silence settled. Megan paused her examination of the sideboard and turned toward them.
What nonsense is that? Gill finally blurted, her voice trembling. There was only one will, and it was read.
I think we should call Samuel, Emily said firmly. I have a copy of another document.
Gills face went pale. Emily, why stir this up? Father made his choice, everything was fairly divided. You got the things he loved mostbooks, the pianohe knew you loved music.
Its not about the objects, Aunt Gill. Its about Granddads final wish. If he changed his mind, we must respect it.
Changed his mind? Gill sneered. He spent his whole life thinking of you! Your parents died, tragedy, of course. But why did he always put you above his own children? Were we strangers to him?
Emily was taken aback by the sudden venom. I never asked for special treatment
Of course you didnt! You were always there. Always. We have our own lives, our own worries. We cant sit with him forever.
Mum, calm down, Megan interjected. If theres another will, let the lawyers sort it out.
The front door opened and Uncle Victor stepped in, a stout man with a face uncannily similar to Michaels.
What are you arguing about? he asked, scanning the tense faces.
Emily found another will, Gill blurted. She says Father left everything to her.
Victor moved to a chair and sat down. Is that true?
His tone held only fatigue. Did you know about it?
Victor sighed. Dad mentioned wanting to change the will, that the house should stay whole because only you truly love it.
And you kept quiet? Gill shouted. Traitor!
Dont shout, Gill, Victor replied wearily. I didnt know if he had actually drawn it up or was just thinking. Anyway, the house is old, needs constant care. Its an asset for us to sell, not a memory for you.
So youre on her side? Gill flailed her arms. Marvelous! Well give it all to the girl and well be left with nothing!
Mum, enough, Megan rolled her eyes. Victors right. We dont need the house; you said youd sell it and buy a flat in the city.
Emily listened, feeling detached, as they talked about the property like a piece of furniture. To her it was a whole worldits smells, its sounds, its memories.
I propose this, Emily finally said. Well call Samuel and clarify the wills. If Granddads last wish really was to leave the house to me, Ill pay you both compensation for your shares, over time.
What compensation? Gill sniffed. From a librarians salary?
I could take a loan, or sell my flat.
Enough, Mum, Megan interjected. Lets just call the solicitor.
Samuel Pearson arrived within the hour, briefcase in hand, and took a seat in the lounge, his eyes flicking between the gathered relatives.
So youve found a second will, he said after Emily handed him the copy. He examined it, matching dates and signatures.
Yes, its authentic, he concluded. Michael did draft a new will shortly before he died.
Why didnt you present it? Gill demanded.
Samuel removed his glasses, rubbed his nose. A week before his death Michael called me, saying he wanted to revoke the earlier document. He set a meeting, but he never made it.
So his final wish was to revert to the first version? Victor asked.
I cant be certain, Samuel replied cautiously. He didnt explain his reasons, only said he didnt want family strife.
Emily felt tears well up. Even in his last days, Grandfather thought of them, of their relationships, even at the cost of his own wishes.
Legally, Samuel continued, the last validly executed will that was not formally revoked is the one that countsin this case, the one leaving the house to you. But if you contest it, the dispute could drag on for years, and no one wins except the lawyers.
A heavy hush fell. Emily stared out the window at the ancient apple tree Michael had planted before she was born, its blossoms white as clouds each spring, filling the garden with faint perfume. He used to say, As long as the apple tree blooms, the house lives.
I wont push the second will, Emily said suddenly, turning to her relatives. Let things stay as they are.
What? Megan asked, surprised. Youre giving up the house?
No, Emily shook her head. I propose something else. The house stays in joint ownership. No one sells it. Ill continue living here, maintaining it. Youre welcome to visit any timesummer, weekends, holidaysjust like a true family home.
Why would you do that? Gill asked, baffled. Why share when the law could give you everything?
Because Grandfather wanted us to be a family, Emily answered simply. He feared inheritance would tear us apart, and he was ready to change his last wish for that very reason. I want to honour his desire.
Victor looked at his niece for a long moment, then nodded slowly. I agree. That feels right.
Gill hesitated, her face a battle between greed and a vague sense that Emilys offer held something more valuable than money.
But who will pay the upkeep? Repairs? she asked.
Ill cover the main costs, Emily replied. Youll have a tidy, readytouse house whenever you wish. The only condition: never demand its sale, ever.
What if I urgently need cash? Gill pressed.
Then Ill buy out your share, gradually if needed. The house will remain a house.
Megan laughed softly. Granddad would have approved this. He always said Emily was the wisest of us.
Samuel Pearson watched the exchange with interest. I can draft the appropriate agreement if you all decide to proceed. It will be legally clean and in line with Michaels wishes.
By evening, papers were signed, the initial tension eased, and they sat on the veranda with tea, unexpectedly recalling old stories. Victor spoke of building the very veranda with his father; Gill reminisced about her mothers pies; Megan chuckled over anecdotes from Michaels childhood.
Emily watched them, realizing she had gained far more than a house or possessionsshe had reclaimed a family. If compromise was required, so be it.
When the relatives left, she stepped into the garden. The apple tree was in full blossom, petals drifting like soft snow. Birds sang overhead. The house seemed to breathe.
Thank you, Grandfather, Emily whispered to the sky. I understand now. Real inheritance isnt in walls or objects; it lives in the people who remember and love each other.
She slipped a folded copy of the second will from her pocket. Perhaps one day shed show it to her own children, telling them this strange, dreamlike tale. But not now. For now, the true treasure was the home, the memory, and the peace between kin.
