The Legacy by the Sea — When Family Turns to Strangers
“Tanya, my brother Jeremy 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.”
“Wonder what’s so important it can’t include their wives or kids?” Tanya narrowed her eyes. “Actually, don’t answer. I already know. The inheritance. Two months later, and now they’re ready.”
Michael nodded silently. He’d felt it coming ever since Aunt Lydia signed over the city flat and the countryside cottage to him, Tanya, and their daughter Emily. For four years, they’d cared for his aunt when she fell ill. The rest of the family? They only ever visited the cottage in summer, and when the old woman begged for a lift to get some fresh air, everyone was “too busy.”
On Saturday, at exactly four, Jeremy and Marina appeared at the door. Without preamble, they settled in the living room.
“We need to talk about the cottage,” Jeremy began bluntly. “The flat’s yours, fine. But the cottage… We’ve been the ones looking after it.”
“No,” Tanya replied coolly. “You didn’t look after it. You holidayed there. You used it but never lifted a finger. And when Aunt Lydia asked for help, you never showed up.”
“And who had the time? We’ve got jobs, kids, grandchildren!” Marina snapped.
“Yet here you are, making demands,” Michael pointed out. “Odd, isn’t it?”
“Did you even take her to the cottage?” Marina shot back sarcastically.
“We didn’t own it, but we paid for her spa breaks twice,” Tanya countered calmly. “And we’re in the will. It’s shared property. We’re selling.”
“Seriously?” Jeremy scoffed. “You’d tear the family apart over some rundown shack?”
“If it’s so rundown, why are you fighting for it?” Michael retorted.
The next day, the phone rang.
“Michael, what the hell? We went to the cottage with Adrian to collect our things—and the locks are changed!”
“They are. On the gate and the house. Should’ve given us notice. Come by Saturday with Tanya—you’ll get your things. Not before.”
Hanging up, Michael turned to his wife.
“How’d you know they’d rush there?”
“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. With the proceeds and their old flat, they bought a three-bedroom by the sea in Brighton—just a ten-minute drive to the beach.
Emily stayed in Aunt Lydia’s city flat while at university. Michael took a job at the docks; Tanya taught at a nearby school. Life, it seemed, had settled into something peaceful. But it didn’t last.
By March, their phones wouldn’t stop ringing. Relatives who’d ignored them for years suddenly remembered “family.” Marina called first:
“You took the cottage, so we’ve nowhere to go. We’re coming in July—all of us, including Jeremy’s granddaughter.”
“Marina, we didn’t invite you. We live here; it’s not a holiday let. Book a hotel if you want a seaside break.”
“Have you seen Brighton’s hotel prices?!”
“No. But if they’re too steep, pick somewhere cheaper. We’re not hosting.”
“So Tanya’s parents get to stay, but your own sister doesn’t?!”
“Her parents came to visit us. If ours were alive, they’d be welcome too. But five adults and kids for two weeks? No, thanks.”
“Mark my words—you’ll end up alone, with no one to turn to!”
“Don’t fret. Since we moved, we’ve had more ‘family’ than we can handle—all between May and September. The rest of the year? Silence.”
Silence, which had become the most precious part of their lives. And in that quiet, they learned some bonds are best left unstrained.
