When Family Comes Knocking: A Tale of an Inheritance That Won’t Be Split Three Ways
Oliver walked into the living room where his wife was watching a TV show and said evenly,
“My brother just called. He and Emily want to come over on Saturday. Says they need to talk.”
“Lovely! You know I’m always happy to have guests,” Charlotte smiled.
“Thing is, he mentioned it’ll be a serious conversation,” Oliver replied, giving her a wary look. “Just the two of us—no spouses.”
“Any idea what it’s about?” Charlotte tensed.
Oliver paused, glanced down… then it hit him. The inheritance.
Two months ago, Oliver and Charlotte had legally claimed their share. Aunt Margaret, their mother’s elder sister, had never married or had children, living her life as a fiercely independent woman. When her health declined, she called on her nephews for help. Only Oliver and Charlotte stepped up—taking her to doctors, buying groceries, paying for carers, even arranging a stay at a convalescent home. The rest of the family? A birthday card now and then, if that.
No surprise Aunt Margaret left everything to them: a two-bedroom flat in the city centre and a cosy cottage on the outskirts.
Saturday came. Emily and Richard arrived right on time. No smiles, no small talk. They sat in the lounge and got straight to it.
“Fine, the flat’s yours. But the cottage? That’s taking the mick,” Richard said.
“We looked after it!” Emily cut in. “Mowed the lawn, watered the flowerbeds. We spent every summer there with the kids.”
“And did you ever take Aunt Margaret out there even once?” Charlotte asked calmly. “Did you ever do what she begged you to? Just one trip for fresh air…”
“We had our own lives to manage. Kids, work…” Emily muttered.
“Exactly. So Aunt Margaret made her choice,” Oliver said quietly.
“You lot just talked her into it!” Richard snapped. “What kind of man are you, hoarding it all for yourself?”
“And what kind of man fights over a rundown shack?” Oliver shot back, cool but sharp.
They left in a huff. But the next morning, the phone rang.
“Oliver, did you change the bloody locks on the cottage?” Richard shouted. “Me and David drove over to get our things and couldn’t get in!”
“Changed them. Because you didn’t ask. Come next Saturday—we’ll clear it out. Take what’s yours,” Oliver said and hung up.
“You called it,” he said, turning to Charlotte.
“Did you really expect any different? If you hadn’t changed those locks, they’d have taken the furniture too. No doubt about it.”
A month later, they sold the cottage and their old three-bed. Bought a spacious flat by the sea in Brighton—quiet neighbourhood, good schools nearby, jobs lined up fast. Oliver got work at the docks, Charlotte at a primary school.
Their daughter, Sophie, kept the flat in the city while she finished university.
Life seemed settled. But by March, the phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
“The cottage is gone, so we’re all coming to yours this July,” Emily said over the line. “Bringing little Tommy’s girl too!”
“Best book a hotel,” Oliver replied flatly. “We live here—we’re not on holiday. And we’re not hosting.”
“Your in-laws stayed with you last September!” Emily protested.
“Because they’re my wife’s parents. Ours would’ve been welcome too, if they were still here. But we’ve no room for your lot.”
“Selfish, the pair of you!” she spat. “Just remember, brother—when you need help one day, don’t come crying to family!”
“This past year, ‘family’ has popped up like mushrooms after rain—and only between May and September. So don’t worry, we’ve got plenty,” Oliver smirked.
Then he hung up.
