The old cottage in the Kentish village greeted Emily with a musty draft and an oppressive silence. She flung the windows wide, letting the warm May air and the scent of lilacs fill the rooms. It had been a month since her grandfather passed, and only now had she found the strength to travel back and sort through his belongings.
Michael Stevens had been more than a grandfather to her. When her parents died young, he stepped in, raised her, and gave her a foothold in life. In recent years their meetings had become few his work in the county town, the hustle of everyday life, and a perpetual shortage of time. Standing in the drawingroom, where every piece of furniture whispered his name, Emily chastised herself for every day they had not spent together.
A ring of the telephone shattered the quiet.
Emily, have you started yet? asked Aunt Gloria, her voice unusually gentle. Victor and I will be down tomorrow to help with the furniture. Dont touch anything valuable, alright?
Of course, Aunt Gloria, Emily replied, her eyes resting on the old sideboard that held a collection of sea shells. Im just going through his things and the paperwork.
Good. After the reading of the will things got a bit awkward Dont be upset that Granddad left you only his books and the piano. He simply wanted to divide everything fairly.
Emily pressed her lips together. At the funeral the solicitor had read the will, which split the house and the bulk of the estate between his childrenAunt Gloria and Uncle Victor. Emily received only the books, an aged piano and a personalised mantel clockitems dear to her heart but of little market worth.
All right, Aunt, Emily said. I dont need anything else.
Thats the spirit! Youve got your own flat already. Victor and I could use the cottage for the summer holidaysgarden season is kicking off. See you tomorrow!
She hung up and let out a heavy sigh. Granddad had always said the house would be hers. Who else should I leave it to but you, my dear? You alone understand the meaning of these walls. It seemed he had changed his mind at the last moment. Well, it was his right.
The whole day Emily spent leafing through the books. Each volume held a memorya battered fairytale collection he used to read to her at bedtime, school textbooks in which he, a former teacher, had helped her with mathematics. Some books concealed dried flowers, old photographs, and marginal notes in his neat handwriting.
By evening she reached his study. The small room, with its heavy desk and floortoceiling shelves, had always felt special to her. As a child, Granddad forbade her entry without a knockmy little laboratory, he would joke. Here Michael wrote his memoirs, kept diaries, and sorted archives.
Emily carefully sifted through folders of manuscripts, old notebooks, and yellowed envelopes. In the lower drawer of the desk she discovered a bundle of letters tied with twineletters from her grandmother, a woman Emily had never met. 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 lurched. A new will? At the solicitors office, Mr. Samuel Perkins had presented only one document.
Continuing her search, Emily methodically examined every drawer. Behind a stack of old newspapers in the chest she found an envelope stamped Will. Copy. Original with solicitor S.P. The date on the envelope was a month before Michaels death.
With trembling hands she pulled the paper out and began to read. In this testament Michael left the entire cottage, the land, and all valuable items to Emily. His children, Gloria and Victor, were to receive monetary compensation.
This decision isnt about favouring one heir over another, the will read, but about keeping the family nest whole. Emily is the only one who values the house not as property but as the heart of our history. I trust she will preserve it for future generations.
Emily sank into Granddads armchair, unable to swallow what she had just read. Why had this second will never been presented? Did the solicitor know about it? What now?
The night passed without sleep. Emily tossed in the old bed of her former bedroom, weighing options. Presenting the will would spark a huge scandal. Aunt Gloria and Uncle Victor had already begun plotting how to split the land. They had never been particularly close to Michael, visiting only on occasion, but did that give them fewer rights?
At dawn, barely having finished her coffee, Emily heard a car pull up. Aunt Gloria was the first to stride in, her voice booming and her movements brisk.
Emily, weve arrived with Mary, she said, nodding toward her daughter, who trudged into the hallway looking disgruntled. Lets see what we can take right now. Victor will be back later with the movers.
Good afternoon, Emily managed a tight smile. I havent finished sorting everything
No worries, well help! Gloria was already moving from room to room, eyeing the furniture. Ill take that sideboard and the bedroom chest. You okay with that, Mary?
Mary shrugged. I dont mind, Mum. I only came for Granddads coin collection, remember?
Of course, of course! Emily, wheres the coin collection? He collected it all his life, you know. Mary will have it as a keepsake.
A surge of anger rose in Emily. The numismatic collection had been Granddads pride. He used to show her each new coin, telling the story behind it. And now it would go to Mary, who had shown up to the funeral looking as though something had been snatched from her?
Aunt Gloria, Emily began cautiously, did you speak to Mr. Perkins after the will was read?
Gloria froze midsentence, turning sharply. With Samuel? No, why?
Just I think somethings off about the will.
What do you mean? she asked, narrowing her eyes.
I found a reference in Granddads papers to another, later will.
A heavy silence fell. Mary stopped examining the sideboard and turned toward them.
What nonsense is that? Gloria finally said, her voice shaking. There was only one will, and thats what was read.
I think we should call Mr. Perkins, Emily said firmly. I have a copy of another document.
Glorias face went pale. Emily, listen why stir this up? Father made his choice, and it was fair. You got the things he loved mostbooks, piano. He knew how much you liked music.
Its not about the objects, Aunt. Its about Granddads final wish. If he changed his mind, we must honour it.
Changed his mind? Gloria laughed bitterly. He thought of you all his life! Your parents diedtragic, 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 outburst.
I never asked for special treatment
And you didnt! You were just always there. We have our own lives, our own worries. We cant be with him all the time.
Mother, calm down, Mary interjected. Whats all this fuss about? If theres another will, let the solicitors sort it out.
The front door opened and Uncle Victor stepped in, a broad man whose face bore an uncanny resemblance to Michaels.
Whats the argument about? he asked, taking in the tense faces.
Emily found another will, Gloria blurted. She says Granddad left everything to her.
Victor walked slowly to the sofa and sat down. Is that true?
His voice carried no surprise, just weariness. Emily looked him in the eye. Did you know about it?
Victor sighed. Father mentioned he wanted to amend the will. He said the house should stay whole, not be split. He said only you truly loved it.
And you kept quiet? Gloria snapped. Traitor!
Dont shout, Gloria, Victor replied, exhausted. I didnt know whether hed actually signed the new document or was only thinking about it. And what does it matter? The house is old, needs constant upkeep. Victor and I see it as an asset to sell, and you as a memory.
So youre on her side? Glorias hands flew up. Marvelous! Well give it all to the girl and be left with nothing!
Mother, thats enough, Mary rolled her eyes. Uncles right. We dont need this cottage; you said youd sell it and buy a flat in the city anyway.
Emily listened, feeling detached. They talked about the cottage as if it were just a piece of real estate. To her it was an entire world of smells, sounds, and memories.
I propose this, she said finally. We call Mr. Perkins and confirm the wills. If Granddads last wish really was to leave the house to me, Ill pay you both a compensation for your shares, over time.
What compensation? Gloria scoffed. From your librarians salary?
I could take a loan. Or sell my flat.
Mother, enough, Mary intervened. Lets just call the solicitor.
Within an hour the elderly solicitor, Samuel Perkins, arrived with his briefcase and sat at the kitchen table, eyes flicking between the gathered family.
So youve uncovered a second will, he said after listening. May I see a copy?
Emily handed him the paper. He examined it, checking dates and signatures.
Yes, this is a genuine copy, he concluded. Michael Stevens did draw up a new will shortly before he died.
Why wasnt it presented? Gloria demanded.
Perkins removed his glasses and rubbed his nose wearily. A week before his death he called me and said he wanted to revoke the earlier one. He arranged a meeting but passed away before it could happen.
So his final intention was to revert to the first version? Victor asked.
I cant say for certain, the solicitor answered cautiously. He gave no reason over the phone, only that he didnt want to cause family strife.
Emily felt tears well up. Even to the very end, Granddad had been thinking of them, of keeping peace.
Legally, Perkins continued, the valid document is the last one that was executed and not formally revoked. Thats the one leaving the cottage to you. But
But what? Gloria pressed.
But if you contest it, citing the phone call, the case could drag on for years. No one wins except the lawyers.
A heavy silence fell. Emily stared out the window at the old apple tree that Michael had planted before she was born. Every spring it burst into white blossoms, filling the garden with a gentle perfume. He used to say, As long as the apple tree blooms, the house lives.
I wont force the second will, Emily said suddenly, turning to her relatives. Let things stay as they are.
What? Mary asked, bewildered. Youre giving up the house?
No, Emily shook her head. I have another idea. The cottage stays in joint ownership. No one sells it. Ill live here and keep it tidy, and youre all welcome any timesummer, weekends, holidaysjust like a true family home.
Why would you do that? Gloria asked, puzzled. Why share when the law could make it yours?
Because Granddad wanted us to be a family, Emily answered simply. He feared inheritance would split us, and he was ready to change his final wish for that. I want to honour his intention.
Victor looked at his niece for a long moment, then nodded slowly. I agree. Thats the right thing.
Gloria hesitated, torn between the lure of money and the vague sense that Emily was offering something more valuable.
But who will pay for the upkeep? Repairs? she asked.
Ill cover the main costs, Emily replied. Youll have a readymade, wellmaintained house to visit. The only condition is that no one ever demands its sale. Never.
What if I need cash urgently? Gloria pressed.
Ill buy out your share, Emily said calmly, in instalments if necessary. The cottage will remain a cottage.
Mary burst into laughter. Granddad would have liked that. He always said Emily was the wisest of us.
Perkins observed, I can draft an agreement to formalise this arrangement, making it legally sound and in line with Michaels wishes.
By evening, after the paperwork was signed and the initial tension eased, they sat on the veranda with tea, surprisingly recalling old stories. Victor talked about building the very veranda with his father, Gloria recalled her mothers pies, and Mary giggled over anecdotes from Granddads youth.
Emily watched them and realised she had found far more than she had lost. Not just a house or possessions, but a restored family. If compromise was required, so be it.
When the relatives finally left, she stepped into the garden. The apple tree was in full bloom, its white petals drifting to the ground. Birds sang overhead. The cottage was alive.
Thank you, Granddad, she whispered, looking up at the sky. I understand now. The real inheritance isnt in walls or things. Its in the people who remember and love each other.
She slipped a folded piece of paper from her pocketthe copy of the second willinto her coat. Perhaps one day shed show it to her own children and tell them the story. But not today. Today the priority was to protect what truly mattered: the home, the family memory, and the peace among those who cared.
