When the grandmother learned that her grandson intended to evict her from the flat, she promptly sold it.
Why take out a loan when you can simply wait for the grandmother to pass away and inherit her apartment? That was the mindset of my husbands cousin, Rui. He was married to Joana, they had three children, and the whole family lived in anticipation of the inheritance. They shunned credit, preferring to daydream about the day the grandmothers flat would belong to them. At present they cramped into Joanas mothers modest twobedroom apartment in Cascais by the sea, a situation that clearly wore them down. Rui and Joana increasingly whispered about solving the grandmothers situation.
But the grandmother, DonaRosária, was a genuine gem. At seventyfive she radiated vigor, lived joyfully and never complained about her health. Her home in central Cascais was always buzzing with friends. She mastered the smartphone, attended exhibitions, went to the theatre, and even indulged in harmless flirting at senior dance events. She seemed to glow, and her life exemplified how to savour each day. For Rui and Joana, however, this was not a source of prideit was sheer irritation. They were tired of waiting.
Their patience finally ran out. They decided that DonaRosária should transfer the flat into Ruis name and move into a nursing home. They made no pretence about their motives, insisting it would be better for the grandmother. Yet DonaRosária was not one to surrender. She refused firmly, sparking a fullblown clash. Rui erupted, calling her selfish and insisting she should think of the grandchildren. Joana fanned the flames, hinting that the grandmother had lived long enough.
When Tiago and I heard about it, we were stunned. DonaRosária had always dreamed of traveling to Indiato see the TajMahal, smell the spices, lose herself in the streets of Goa. We offered her a place with us, suggested she rent out the flat and save the proceeds for the trip. She agreed, and soon her spacious threeroom apartment in the city centre began to generate income. When Rui and Joana got wind of this, they threw a massive tantrum. They believed the flat belonged to them by right and demanded the grandmother let them move in. They even accused Tiago of manipulating his grandmother for personal gain. Rui went so far as to demand the rental money, calling it his legitimate share. We said no, period.
Joana started turning up at our house almost dailysometimes alone, sometimes with the kids, always bearing trivial gifts. She asked after the grandmother, but we saw the real agenda: she and Rui were still waiting for DonaRosária to depart so they could inherit. Their greed and shamelessness were astonishing.
Meanwhile, DonaRosária saved enough and set off for India. She returned beaming, her suitcase brimming with stories and photographs. We suggested she not stop there: sell the flat, keep travelling, and live with us in old age, in peace and comfort. She thought it over and took the risk. The apartment sold for a good price, and with the proceeds she bought a cozy studio on the outskirts of Cascais, allocating the remainder to new adventures.
She journeyed through Spain, Austria and Switzerland. In Switzerland, while strolling along Lake Geneva, she met a Frenchman named Pierre. Their romance felt straight out of a filmat seventyfive she married him! Tiago and I flew to France for the wedding, and it was wonderful to see her shining in a white dress, surrounded by flowers and smiles. DonaRosária deserved that happiness. She had worked her whole life, raised children, helped grandchildrenand now she finally lived for herself.
When Rui learned of the flats sale, he lost his mind. He demanded that the grandmother hand over the studio, claiming she already had enough. How he planned to cram five people into that tiny space was a mystery. But we no longer cared. We were delighted that DonaRosária had found her sunshine. As for Rui and Joana their story serves as a reminder that when money is at stake, even the closest relatives can reveal their true colours.
