Two Ungrateful Daughters
«We didnt buy that three-bedroom flat for no reason, you know,» Mother leaned in, her eyes bright with satisfaction. «Were renting it out room by room to students. Five of them already! The income is so good, well want for nothing in our retirement.»
Emma nodded, happy for them. Her parents had worked tirelessly all their lives and now deserved a peaceful old age. But then her father, William Bennett, who had been silently reading his newspaper at the table, spoke up.
«Of course, we know what youre thinkingwholl inherit the flat. There are three of you, after all. Its only natural to wonder,» he said, folding the paper.
Emma shook her head. The thought hadnt even crossed her mind. Her parents were alive and wellwhy worry about inheritance? But Elizabeth Bennett continued with such biting sarcasm that Emmas blood ran cold.
«Oh, Im sure youve thought about it! Worried wholl get such a fortune. Dont deny it, love!»
Emma opened her mouth to protest, but her mother cut her off.
«Anyway, your father and I have talked it over and decided. The flat will go to whoever takes the best care of us. Fairs fair, dont you think?»
Silence fell in the kitchen. Emma stared at them, stunned. Was this some sort of competition? Her father cleared his throat and continued, avoiding her gaze.
«Weve spent our lives caring for youraising you, feeding you, denying ourselves everything. Now its time for things to change. Youll have to prove yourselves. And if were not satisfied with your efforts…» He paused meaningfully. «Well, dont expect a penny.»
Emma sat there, dumbfounded. Her parents watched her expectantly, as if awaiting applause for their wisdom. A lump rose in her throat. She stood, muttered something about urgent matters, and hurried to the door.
On the bus home, Emma couldnt make sense of it. Her thoughts spun like a hamster in a wheel. What was this? An auction? Who would offer the most to win the flat? Pulling out her phone, she dialled her older sister, Victoria.
«Vicky, you wont believe what Mum and Dad just said,» Emma began without preamble.
«About the flat and the inheritance?» Victoria sighed tiredly. «They told me yesterday. Im still reeling.»
«What are we supposed to do?» Emma pressed the phone to her ear, straining to hear over the bus noise.
«No idea. Weve always looked after them. While they were saving for that flat, we paid for groceries, covered the bills, dropped everything when they called,» Victorias voice was thick with resentment. «And our dear little brother, James? Always too busywork, his love life, something.»
«How are they even going to decide who takes better care of them?» Emma stepped off at her stop, still talking. «Will they keep score? Make a chart?»
Victoria gave a dry laugh.
«Looks that way. Maybe its for the best. At least well see where we standthough I think I already know wholl win this little contest.»
The following weeks became an ordeal. Calls from her parents came with relentless frequency. Late on a Wednesday evening, the first one arrived.
«Emma, darling,» her mothers voice was sharp with expectation. «Weve got an early doctors appointment tomorrow, and we need to stop by the shops after. Could you drive us? Your cars fixed now, isnt it?»
She had an important meeting at nine.
«Mum, cant you take a taxi?»
«What nonsense! A taxi?» Elizabeth huffed. «Are we strangers to you? Cant a daughter help her own parents?»
Emma sighed. As always, she agreed. The next morning, she took time off work, chauffeured them around, and listened to endless praise about their wonderful son, James.
On Friday, as Emma laboured over a quarterly report at work, her father rang.
«Love, the new furnitures been delivered. We need help carrying it in. Movers cost an arm and a leg these days. With six hands, well manage.»
«Dad, Im at work»
«What sort of job wont let you help your parents?» His voice dripped with disapproval.
Again, Emma excused herself under her bosss frown and went to haul furniture. Her back ached for days afterward.
On her day off, when shed finally booked a spa appointment, her mother called.
«Emma, were doing a spring clean. Curtains down, chandeliers washed. We cant manage alonewere not as young as we were!»
The spa was cancelled. Emma spent the day scrubbing her parents flat, enduring endless stories about their marvellous son.
«James is so thoughtful,» Elizabeth cooed, sipping tea while Emma scoured the stove. «He called yesterdaywe talked for ages!»
«When was the last time he actually came to help?» Emma straightened, wiping sweat from her brow.
Her parents exchanged glances. Her mother pursed her lips.
«Whats that tone? James is busy. Hes got an important job. Not like you girls. As future wives and homemakers, you ought to help your parents more. Its your duty! Hes a man.»
Emma clenched her teeth, swallowing a bitter retort. Inside, she seethed.
A week later, she was back at their flat, jarring pickles and tomatoes for winter. Her parents supervised from the table.
«Less vinegar!» Elizabeth ordered. «More dill!»
«James adours pickled cucumbers,» William mused. «Hell be thrilled when he visits.»
«Whens he coming?» Emma twisted another lid shut.
«Not sure… hasnt been by in a month,» Elizabeth admitted reluctantly. «Hes very busy.»
Emma set down the jar, wiped her hands, and turned to them. Resentment boiled upshe couldnt hold it in any longer.
«So the flat goes to me and Vicky, then? Since were the ones helping, and James is too busy?»
Elizabeths face flushed crimson. She shot up, knocking over her teacup.
«How selfish! And greedy too! Youve no thought for your brother! Only yourself!» she shrieked. «Hes a man! Hell bring a wife home one day! He needs that flat more! And besides, inheritance should go to the son first! Hes our heir! The one to carry on the family name!»
Something inside Emma snapped. Years of obedience, endless help, sacrificing her timeall of it meant nothing. Slowly, she untied her apron and turned off the stove. The half-filled jars sat abandoned.
«Your heir? The one to carry on the name? What about me and Vicky? Arent we good enough?» Her voice cracked. «Were always here, always helping. At your beck and call… But thats not enough, is it?»
She moved toward the door. Her parents gaped at her.
«You know what? I understand now. You only value care when its gone. From now on, Ill act just like James.»
She walked out. Her parents scrambled after her.
«Emma, wait! Youve got it all wrong! Dont be childish!» William pleaded.
«And the pickles, love? Finish them! You cant leave things half-done! Wholl clear this up?» Elizabeth cried.
Emma paused in the doorway. She turned backno anger, no bitterness. Just exhaustion.
«Im busy. Just like James. Find someone else for your pickles. Sort it out yourselves. I wash my hands of it.»
She shut the door softly behind her. In the stairwell, she called Victoria, who answered at once.
«Vicky, Im done. I cant do this anymore,» Emmas voice echoed as she descended.
«What happened?»
Emma summarised the argument about James and the inheritance. Victoria was silent a long moment before sighing.
«You know what? Lets behave like our dear brother. If hes the heir, let him take care of them. Well be the ungrateful daughters.»
«Exactly what I was thinking,» Emma breathed in the crisp air.
From that day, everything changed. To every parental demand, the sisters replied the same: they were busylet James handle it. Elizabeth sulked. William fumed. But the sisters held firm.
«Youre leaving the flat to James. Let him help you,» Emma said calmly. «Hes your heir, your pride and joy.»
A month passed. Emma strolled through an autumn park, leaves crunching underfootgold, red, orange, a riot of colour. She smiled, inhaling the cool air.
Shed accomplished so much in that month.
Her phone buzzed. Mum. Emma glanced at the screen and slipped it back into her pocket. Let them call James. He was the favourite, the heir.
Now, shed take care of herself. And her own family.
