The old stone cottage in the Yorkshire Dales greeted Evelyn Mitchell with a stale draft and a heavy silence. She flung the windows open, letting in the warm May breeze and the sweet scent of lilacs. It had been a month since her grandfather died, and only now had she found the strength to travel back and sort through his belongings.
John Mitchell had been more than just a grandfather to her. After her parents died when she was very young, he filled the void, raised her, and gave her a stable footing. In recent years they had seen each other only occasionally his work at the county council kept him busy, and everyday life left little time for visits. Standing in the living room, where every object whispered a memory of him, Evelyn chastised herself for the days they had missed.
A ring of the telephone broke the stillness.
Evelyn, have you started? asked Aunt Margarets voice, unusually tender. Edward and I will be down tomorrow to help with the furniture. Dont touch anything valuable, alright?
Of course, Aunt Maggie, Evelyn replied, eyeing her grandfathers sideboard lined with seashells. Im just going through the items and the paperwork.
Good. After the reading of the will theres been a bit of an awkwardness Dont be upset that Granddad left you only his books and the piano. He just wanted everything divided fairly.
Evelyn pressed her lips together. The solicitor had read the will at the funeral, stating that the house and the bulk of the estate would be split between his children Aunt Margaret and Uncle Edward. Evelyn received only the books, an old upright piano, and a set of engraved pocket watches cherished by heart but of modest market value.
Everythings fine, Aunt Maggie. I dont need anything else, she said.
Exactly! You have your own flat and your own life. Edward and I will need the country house for the summer holidays. See you tomorrow!
She hung up and exhaled heavily. Granddad had always said the house would be hers. Who else would I leave it to, love? Youre the only one who truly knows what a home feels like, he had said. Perhaps he had changed his mind at the last moment it was his right to do so.
The whole day Evelyn spent among the books. Each volume held a memory a battered fairytale collection he used to read to her at night, school textbooks hed helped her with when he taught math. Between the pages she found dried flowers, old photographs, and neat marginal notes in his careful hand.
By evening she reached his study. The small room with a heavy oak desk and floortoceiling shelves had always felt special. As a child, John had never let her in without a knock the creative laboratory, hed joked. Here he wrote his memoirs, kept diaries, and sorted archives.
She turned over folders of manuscripts, timeworn notebooks, and yellowed envelopes. In a lower drawer lay a bundle of letters tied with twine letters from her grandmother, whom Evelyn had never met. Beside them rested 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 skipped. A new will? At the solicitors hearing, Mr. Simon Parker had presented only one document.
Evelyn continued her search, methodically checking every drawer and box. Behind a stack of old newspapers, she uncovered an envelope stamped Will. Copy. Original with solicitor S.P. The date on the envelope was a month before Johns death.
With trembling hands she pulled out the paper and began to read. In this version John Mitchell left the entire house, the land, and all valuable items to Evelyn. The children, Margaret and Edward, were to receive monetary compensation instead.
This decision isnt about favouring one heir over another, the will read, but about preserving the family nest. Evelyn is the only one who values this house not as property but as the heart of our history. I trust she will keep it for future generations.
Evelyn sank into her grandfathers armchair, unable to believe what she was reading. Why hadnt the second will been shown? Did the solicitor know? What should she do now?
That night she lay awake in the old bedroom, turning the possibilities over in her mind. Presenting the will would spark a huge scandal. Margaret and Edward had already started planning what to do with the estate. They had never been close to John, visiting only on occasion, yet that didnt diminish their legal claim.
In the morning, just as she was finishing a coffee, a car pulled up. Aunt Margaret entered first, her voice booming around the cottage.
Evelyn, were here with Marjorie, she said, nodding toward her daughter, who shuffled in looking disgruntled. Lets see what we can take right now. Edward will be back later with the movers.
Hello, Evelyn said with a strained smile. I havent finished sorting
Well help! Margaret started moving from room to room, eyeing the furniture. Ill take this sideboard and the bedroom chest. You okay with that, Marjorie?
Marjorie shrugged. Im just here for Granddads coin collection, remember?
Exactly! Wheres the collection? He kept it all his life. Marjorie can have it as a keepsake.
Evelyn felt a surge of indignation. The numismatic collection had been Johns pride; hed shown her each new coin, telling the story behind it. Now it was to go to Marjorie, who had shown up to the funeral with a sour expression, as if shed been robbed of something precious.
Aunt Maggie, Evelyn began cautiously, did you speak with the solicitor after the will was read?
Margaret halted, turning sharply. With Mr. Parker? No, why?
Its just I think something isnt right with the will.
What do you mean? Margaret asked, narrowing her eyes.
I found a reference to another, later will in his papers.
A heavy silence fell. Marjorie stopped examining the sideboard and turned to listen.
What nonsense? Margaret finally said, her voice trembling. There was only one will, the one they read.
I think we should call Mr. Parker, Evelyn said firmly. I have a copy of another document.
Margarets face went pale. Evelyn, why stir this up? Father made his choice; everything was divided fairly. You got the things he loved most the books, the piano. He knew how much you loved music.
Its not about the objects, Aunt Maggie. Its about Granddads final wish. If he changed his mind, we should honour it.
Changed his mind? Margaret sneered. He spent his whole life thinking of you! Our parents are dead tragic, yes but why did he always put you above his own children? Were we strangers to him?
Evelyn was taken aback by the sudden bitterness.
I never asked for special treatment
Exactly, you didnt ask! You were always there. We have our own lives, our own concerns. We cant be with him all the time.
Mother, calm down, Marjorie interjected. If theres another will, let the lawyers sort it out.
The front door opened and Uncle Edward stepped in, a broadshouldered man with a face uncannily similar to Johns.
What are you all arguing about? he asked, surveying the tense faces.
Evelyn found another will, Margaret blurted. She says Granddad left everything to her.
Edward walked slowly to a chair and sat down. Is that so?
His tone was weary, not surprised. Evelyn met his eyes.
Did you know about it?
Edward sighed. Father mentioned he wanted to change the will. He said the house should stay whole, not be split. He thought you were the only one who truly loved it.
And you kept quiet? Margaret shouted. Traitor!
Dont shout, Maggie, Edward said, exhausted. I didnt know if hed actually drawn up a new will or was just thinking about it. Anyway, the house is old, needs constant upkeep. We see it as an asset to sell, not a memory.
So youre on her side? Margaret snapped, flinging her hands. Wonderful! Well hand it all over to the girl and be left with nothing!
Mother, stop, Marjorie rolled her eyes. Uncles right. Why would we want the house? You said youd sell it and buy a flat in the city.
Evelyn listened, feeling the distance grow. To her, the house was a world of smells, sounds, and memories, not a piece of property.
I propose this, she said finally. We call Mr. Parker and confirm the situation. If Granddads last wish really was to give me the house, Ill pay you compensation for your shares over time, if needed.
What compensation? Margaret scoffed. From my librarian salary?
I could take a loan or sell my flat.
Enough, let the solicitor handle it, Marjorie said.
Mr. Simon Parker arrived within the hour, briefcase in hand. He listened to Evelyns explanation and examined the copy she produced.
Yes, this is a genuine copy, he said after a careful look. John Mitchell did draft a new will shortly before his death.
Why wasnt it presented? Margaret demanded.
Parker rubbed his temples. A week before he died, he called me and said he wanted to cancel the earlier will. He set a meeting but never made it.
So his final intention was to revert to the first version? Edward asked.
I cant say for certain, Parker replied cautiously. He didnt give reasons, just said he didnt want family strife.
Evelyn felt tears well up. Even in his last days, he thought of them, of keeping peace.
Legally, Parker continued, the most recent will that hasnt been formally revoked is the one that stands the one leaving the house to you. But if you contest it, the case could drag on for years, and no one wins except the lawyers.
The room fell silent. Evelyn glanced out at the old apple tree John had planted decades ago. Each spring it burst into white blossoms, filling the garden with fragrance. He used to say, As long as the apple tree thrives, the house lives.
I wont push the second will, Evelyn said suddenly, turning to her relatives. Lets keep things as they are.
What? Youre giving up the house? Marjorie asked.
No, Evelyn shook her head. I suggest a different solution. The house stays in joint ownership. No one sells it. Ill live here and maintain it. Youre all welcome whenever you like summer, holidays, weekends. It will be a true family home.
But why would you do that? Margaret asked, torn between greed and a vague sense of something larger. Why share when the law could give you everything?
Because Granddad wanted us to be a family, Evelyn answered simply. He feared inheritance would tear us apart and was ready to change his last wish for that reason. I want to honour his desire.
Edward stared at his niece a long moment, then nodded slowly. Im in. Thats the right thing.
Margaret lingered, her face a battle between financial temptation and the growing realization that Evelyns proposal offered something richer than money.
But who will pay for upkeep? Repairs? she asked finally.
Ill cover the main costs, Evelyn replied. Youll have a wellkept house to visit. The only condition is that no one tries to sell it, ever.
What if I urgently need money? Margaret pressed.
Then Ill buy your share, gradually, Evelyn said calmly. But the house will stay a house.
Marjorie chuckled. Granddad would have approved. He always said Evelyn was the wisest of us.
Parker observed, impressed. I can draft an agreement to formalise this. It will be legally clean and reflect John Mitchells wishes.
By evening, papers were signed, and the tension had eased. They gathered on the cottages porch with tea, reminiscing about old times. Edward recounted building the porch with his father, Margaret spoke of her mothers pies, and Marjorie laughed at stories of Johns youthful antics.
Evelyn watched them and realized she had gained far more than a house or possessions she had reclaimed a family. Even if it meant compromising, it felt right.
When the relatives left, she stepped into the garden. The apple tree was in full blossom, its white petals drifting to the ground. Birds sang above, and the cottage seemed to breathe.
Thank you, Granddad, she whispered, looking up at the sky. I understand now: the true inheritance isnt walls or belongings. Its the people who remember and love each other.
She slipped the copy of the second will into her pocket, thinking she might one day show it to her own children. But that could wait. For now, the real treasure was the home, the memories, and the peace she had helped restore among those she loved.
