“We’ll see,” she said, and turned away.
On a quiet Sunday in October, Grandma passed away in her sleep.
Linda found her first. I came running down the hall in my robe and froze at the doorway.
Grandma passed away in her sleep.
The funeral passed like a dream I could not wake from.
A week later, I sat in her lawyer, Mr. Bennett’s, office, my hands folded tight in my lap.
He cleared his throat and opened the folder.
“The estate of Margaret,” he began, “is to be donated in full to charity.”
I blinked.
“The savings, in the amount listed here, are bequeathed to Linda, in gratitude for her decades of service.”
The funeral passed like a dream I could not wake from.
My mouth went dry.
“The jewelry will be divided among the named friends and acquaintances.”
I waited. He did not look up.
“And to me?” I finally asked.
Mr. Bennett’s eyes lifted slowly. “There is no further bequest in the will. I’m sorry.”
I walked out of his office in silence, the years collapsing behind me like a hallway with no doors, wondering what on earth I had given my life to.
“There is no further bequest in the will. I’m sorry.”
