“Of course,” I said. “Should I bring the envelope?”
“Yes, please. And Mrs. Walsh… Holly was very clear about what she wanted.” A beat. “She requested that everyone named in the will be present for the reading. That includes Travis and Stella Walsh.”
My stomach tightened.
“They have to be there in person,” I repeated, already hearing the trouble coming.
“I’m afraid they do,” Mrs. Keller said. “Holly insisted on that point.”
That evening, when I returned home, Travis was stretched out on the couch watching basketball highlights. He barely looked away from the TV.
“Where have you been all day?” he asked, eyes still glued to the screen.
I stood in the doorway and studied him. He had Holly’s strong jawline, but none of what I was starting to understand had been her strength.
“I’ve been dealing with your mother’s affairs,” I said, “since no one else showed up when she died.”
That finally made him mute the television.
“Don’t start with the guilt trip, Courtney,” he said. “Mom and I had issues. You know that.”
“Her lawyer called,” I continued, ignoring his defensiveness. “We need to be at her office tomorrow morning for the will reading. You, me, and Stella.”
He gave a short laugh. “What will? Mom didn’t have anything except medical bills.”
“Even so,” I said, “her lawyer says we all have to be there. Mrs. Keller said Holly was very specific.”
Travis rolled his eyes, then shrugged. “Fine. I’ll call Stella.”
The next morning, Travis drove us downtown in irritated silence. We met Stella outside a modest brick building that housed Keller Legal Services. She stood by the entrance smoking, her sharp features tightened with annoyance.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, crushing her cigarette. “I had to take unpaid time off for this.”
We walked in together, a family only by technical definition.
Mrs. Keller’s office was small and spotless, with walnut furniture, law books, and a single orchid by the window. The attorney herself matched the room, silver-haired, perfectly dressed, eyes keen enough to measure people in seconds.
Two older women were already seated, Diane and Eleanor, friends from Holly’s church I remembered from holiday gatherings. They offered polite nods, looking as puzzled as we were.
“Thank you for coming,” Mrs. Keller began once everyone was seated. “As Holly’s legal representative for the past fifteen years, I’ve been tasked with carrying out her final wishes.”
Travis checked his watch in a pointed way. Stella tapped her foot, arms crossed tight.
“Let’s begin,” Mrs. Keller said, putting on reading glasses and opening a leather portfolio. “This is the last will and testament of Holly Elizabeth Walsh, revised and notarized two months ago.”
She read through the formal language. Travis and Stella exchanged bored glances. Diane and Eleanor listened respectfully. I held my purse close, both envelopes Holly had left me inside it.
“Now we’ll move to the distribution of assets,” Mrs. Keller said. “To my son, Travis Walsh…”
Travis straightened, just slightly.
“I leave my forgiveness, though you have not earned it.”
The room went still. Even Stella’s tapping foot stopped.
“To my daughter, Stella Walsh,” Mrs. Keller continued, “I leave my wedding band, which you once admired. May it remind you that promises should be kept.”
Stella’s cheeks flared red.
“To my friends Diane Mercer and Eleanor Thompson,” Mrs. Keller read, “I leave my gratitude for the kindness you showed me in my final year, and five thousand dollars each.”
The two women looked at each other in surprise.
“And to my daughter-in-law, Courtney Walsh,” Mrs. Keller said, “I leave the entirety of my remaining estate, including my primary residence at 47 Willow Lane, all accounts, investments, coverage policies, and personal possessions.”
Silence broke like glass.
“What?” Stella snapped. “That’s insane.”
Travis shot to his feet. “That can’t be right. Courtney barely knew my mother.”
Mrs. Keller stayed calm, as if she’d been expecting this exact moment. “There is no error. Holly was of sound mind when she made these decisions.”
“Decisions?” Travis demanded. “What decisions?”
“When your mother revised her will on March 15th of this year,” Mrs. Keller said evenly, “shortly after receiving her terminal diagnosis…”
Travis whipped toward me, suspicion twisting his face. “You knew. You had to know. What did you do? You manipulated her. You took advantage while she was drugged up and confused.”
“I didn’t know,” I whispered, stunned by the accusation and the truth. “I had no idea.”
Then a memory surfaced. In March, Holly had asked me to drive her downtown for an appointment. She’d called it a medication visit. I’d waited in the car. I’d never known what she was really doing.
“How convenient,” Stella said bitterly. “The devoted daughter-in-law routine paid off. We’ll fight this. Mom wasn’t in her right mind.”
Mrs. Keller cleared her throat. “I anticipated you might say that. Holly did as well.”
She slid a document across the table. “This is a psychiatric evaluation completed one week before Holly changed her will. It confirms her mental competency. She also recorded a video statement explaining her decisions, which can be provided if needed.”
Travis looked like the air had been sucked out of him.
“How much?” he asked, voice rough. “How much did she leave?”
Mrs. Keller glanced toward me. “The cottage alone is worth about three hundred thousand dollars. There are investment accounts totaling just over two hundred seventy thousand, and coverage policies worth one hundred fifty thousand. Holly lived simply, but she invested wisely.”
Diane and Eleanor stared at me, their expressions caught between shock and something like vindication.
“This will is legally binding,” Mrs. Keller said. “My office will oversee the transfers. And now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to speak with Mrs. Walsh privately.”
After Travis and Stella stormed out, followed by Diane and Eleanor, Mrs. Keller handed me a third envelope.
“Holly asked me to give you this,” she said. “After the reading. She said you would understand.”
Alone in the office, I opened it with trembling hands. Inside was one page of Holly’s stationery, her precise handwriting forming a single paragraph.
Forgive no one. Let them beg. Let them kneel. And when they do, smile, turn, and walk away.
I folded the note and tucked it into my purse with the others. When I lifted my eyes, Mrs. Keller was watching me with quiet understanding.
“She chose you for a reason,” she said softly. “Not just to inherit, but to speak for her.”
In that moment, clarity finally settled in. Holly had not only left property and money behind. She had left me something more powerful than that. She had handed me the authority she never had while she was alive. And with it, a mission that would demand everything from me.
Outside, Travis was waiting near the car, his face a storm of anger and confusion. Stella was nowhere in sight. As I walked toward him, something shifted inside me, like a new strength finding its place. In my mind, Holly’s voice echoed again.
Now they will learn what it means to be forgotten.
The drive home from Mrs. Keller’s office was unbearable. Travis gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went pale, jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped beneath his skin. Neither of us spoke. The silence sat between us like a third passenger, heavy with blame.
“I’m staying at the cottage tonight,” I finally said as we pulled into the driveway. “I need to go through some of Holly’s things.”
Travis glanced at me, and the anger in his eyes shifted into calculation.
“Sure, babe,” he said softly. “Whatever you need. This must be a lot for you.”
The sudden sweetness in his voice made my stomach turn.
I packed an overnight bag and drove back to Holly’s secret home, which was mine now, according to her will. In the fading light, the cottage felt less abandoned and more watchful. I turned on lamps, brushed away cobwebs, and made tea in the kitchen where dust still coated everything.
On a shelf near the fireplace, I found a row of leather-bound journals spanning decades, each labeled with a year in Holly’s careful handwriting. I pulled down the most recent one and settled into an armchair by the window. Outside, crickets started their evening chorus as I opened to the first page.
Ben has been gone seven years today. Travis called for the first time in months. He needed money for car repairs. I gave it to him because I’m a fool who still believes a mother’s love should be unconditional. Ben would be furious with me.
I read until my eyes stung. Journal after journal revealed a woman I had never truly known, sharp, observant, and increasingly alone. Holly had written down everything: Travis’s escalating demands, Stella’s cutting remarks about her clothes and opinions, the friends who faded away when illness made her inconvenient.
For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
