**Legacy by the Sea — When Family Becomes Strangers**
—Ginny, my brother Jeremy rang,— said Michael, stepping into the kitchen. —He and Mabel are popping over on Saturday. Just the two of them, no spouses. Said he wants a proper chat.
—How mysterious. Whatever could be so serious that even the wives and kids aren’t invited?— Tatiana narrowed her eyes. —Wait, don’t answer that. I already know. It’s about the inheritance. Two months later, and *now* they’re ready to talk.
Michael nodded silently. He’d felt it coming ever since Aunt Lydia left them—along with their daughter Natalie—the flat in central London and the seaside cottage in Brighton. For four years, they’d looked after the old woman when she fell ill. The rest of the family? They only turned up in summer for a free holiday. And when Aunt Lydia begged for a lift to the seaside for fresh air? Suddenly, everyone was *terribly* busy.
On Saturday, promptly at four, Jeremy and Mabel appeared at the door. No small talk—just straight to the sitting room.
—We need to talk about the cottage,— Jeremy launched in. —The flat’s yours, fine. But the seaside place… We’ve been the ones maintaining it.
—No,— Tatiana replied coolly. —You’ve been *using* it. Not maintaining. And when Aunt Lydia asked for help—not once did you show up.
—Who had the time? We’ve got kids, grandkids, jobs!— Mabel snapped.
—Yet here you are, suddenly full of claims,— Michael said. —Funny how that works.
—Did you even take her to the seaside?— Mabel shot back.
—We didn’t have a cottage, but we paid for her spa retreats—*twice*,— Tatiana replied smoothly. —And we’re in the will. It’s joint ownership. We’re selling.
—Seriously?— Jeremy scoffed. —You’d wreck the family over a crumbling shack?
—If it’s just a shack, why are you clinging to it?— Michael countered.
The next day, the phone rang.
—What’s this, Michael?! We drove down with Oliver to collect our things from the cottage—and the locks are changed!
—Yep. Front gate, front door. Should’ve called ahead. Come by Saturday with Tatiana—take what’s yours. But not a minute sooner.
Hanging up, Michael turned to his wife.
—How’d you know they’d bolt straight there?
—You *know* your family. If we hadn’t changed the locks, they’d have stripped the place bare.
They sold the cottage. Combined with their old flat, they bought a three-bedroom in a new build by the sea in Cornwall—just a ten-minute drive from the beach.
Natalie kept the London flat while finishing her second year at uni. Michael took a job at the docks; Tatiana taught at the local school. Life, at last, was peaceful. Or so they thought.
By March, their phones wouldn’t stop ringing. Relatives they hadn’t heard from in years suddenly remembered their *dear family*. First came Mabel:
—You took the cottage, so now we’ve got nowhere to go. We’ll be down in July. All of us—including Jeremy’s granddaughter.
—Mabel, we didn’t invite you. We *live* here; it’s not a B&B. Fancy a holiday? Book a hotel.
—Have you *seen* Cornwall’s hotel prices?!
—Haven’t. But if they’re too steep, pick somewhere cheaper. Just not here. We’re not running a guesthouse.
—So Tatiana’s parents got to stay, but your own sister doesn’t?!
—Her parents stayed *once*. If ours were alive, they’d be welcome too. But five adults *plus* kids for a fortnight? Hard pass.
—Just you wait! You’ll end up alone—no one will remember you!
—Don’t worry. Since we moved, we’ve had more *relatives* than we know what to do with—all remembering us between May and September. The rest of the year? Peace.
Peace—now the most precious part of their lives.
