Legacy by the Sea — When Family Turns to Strangers
“Emily, my brother James called,” said Michael, stepping into the kitchen. “He and Marina are coming over on Saturday. Just the two of them, no spouses. Said he wants to talk seriously.”
“I wonder what’s so serious that they’re leaving wives and kids behind?” Emily raised an eyebrow. “Then again, don’t bother guessing. I already know. It’s about the inheritance. Two months later, and suddenly they’ve made up their minds.”
Michael nodded silently. He’d felt it coming ever since Aunt Lydia signed over the flat in central London and the cottage in the Cotswolds to him, Emily, and their daughter Charlotte. For four years, they’d cared for Aunt Lydia when she fell ill. The rest of the family? They only ever showed up in summer to enjoy the cottage, but when the old woman asked for a ride to get some fresh air—suddenly, everyone was “too busy.”
On Saturday, at exactly four, James and Marina appeared at the door. They settled in the lounge without pleasantries.
“We need to talk about the cottage,” James launched in. “The flat’s yours, fine. But the cottage… We’ve been the ones looking after it.”
“No,” Emily replied coolly. “You weren’t looking after it. You were enjoying it. Using it, not helping. And when Aunt Lydia needed you—you never came.”
“Who had time to fuss over her? We’ve got kids, grandkids, jobs!” Marina snapped.
“Yet here you are with demands. Funny, isn’t it?” Michael said.
“Did you even take her to the cottage?” Marina sneered.
“We didn’t have a cottage, but we paid for her spa retreats twice,” Emily answered calmly. “And we’re in the will. It’s joint property. We’re selling.”
“Seriously?” James scoffed. “You’d tear the family apart over a few square metres in a crumbling house?”
“If it’s such a ruin, why cling to it?” Michael countered.
The next day, the phone rang.
“Michael, what’s this?! We came with Daniel to collect our things—the locks are changed!”
“They are. On the gate and the house. Should’ve called ahead. Come by on Saturday with Emily—take what’s yours. Not before.”
Hanging up, Michael turned to his wife.
“How’d you know they’d rush over?”
“You don’t know your own family? If we hadn’t changed the locks, they’d have stripped the place bare.”
They sold the cottage. After selling their old flat, they bought a three-bedroom in Brighton, in a new build just minutes from the seafront.
Charlotte stayed in Aunt Lydia’s London flat while finishing her second year at uni. Michael took a job at the docks, Emily began teaching at a nearby school. A quiet, fresh start—or so it seemed.
By March, their phones wouldn’t stop ringing. Relatives who’d vanished for years suddenly remembered their “dear ones.” Marina called first:
“You took the cottage, now we’ve nowhere to go. We’re coming to yours in July. The whole family—including James’s granddaughter.”
“Marina, we didn’t invite you. We live here; it’s not a holiday let. Book a hotel if you want a break.”
“Have you seen Brighton’s hotel prices?!”
“Haven’t checked. If they’re too steep, find somewhere cheaper. But don’t come here. We’re not hosting.”
“So your in-laws stay, but not your own sister?!”
“They were Emily’s parents. If ours were alive, we’d welcome them too. But five adults plus kids for a fortnight? No, thanks.”
“Wait and see! You’ll end up alone—no one’ll spare you a thought!”
“Don’t worry. Since we moved, we’ve had more ‘family’ than we can handle. Everyone remembers us between May and September. The rest of the year—silence.”
Silence—now the most precious part of their lives.
