One evening, I got a call from her. Her voice sounded soft and frail. “Linda, sweetheart, could you come over?
I don’t think I have much time left,” she said, almost in a whisper. My heart sank. “Oh, Granny, don’t talk like that!
I’ll apply for leave right away and be there in a couple of days. Don’t you worry, okay?”
When I arrived at her house three days later, my brother Brian was already there. He was a few years older than me, with a sharp edge to his personality.
I immediately rushed to hug her upon entering the house. “I’m here, Grandma,” I whispered, feeling an ache in my heart. “Oh, my sweet girl,” she smiled, looking so tired yet so happy.
Meanwhile, Brian glanced around with a frown. “At least you could have kept the house clean, Grandma. It’s so… dusty,” he muttered, brushing an imaginary speck off his shoulder.
Oh please, Brian! I thought. Grandma needs care, not criticism.
I just rolled my eyes and ignored him because I didn’t want to create a scene in front of Grandma. A few minutes later, she sat us down in her small living room and handed each of us an envelope. Inside was $5,000.
“Linda, Brian, I wanted to give you both something,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. I took her hand. “Granny, you didn’t have to do this.
I’m here to spend time with you, not for money.”
Brian, on the other hand, scowled. “Is this all I get? Seriously?”
Before Grandma could respond, he stormed outside, slamming the door behind him.
He’s crazy, I thought. I stayed by her side over the next few days, cleaning the house, cooking fresh meals, and fixing things up. She had been living on stale food, and there were cracks and leaks that hadn’t been tended to in years.
“You don’t have to do so much, Linda. I don’t want to take up all your time and money,” she said, shaking her head as I patched a leak. I grinned, holding her hand.
“Grandma, I know how much you’ve always wanted Grandpa’s house to feel like home again. I had some savings, so I thought, why not? Are you happy now, Grandma?
Is this how you remember it with Grandpa?”
“Oh, Linda,” she smiled as tears trickled down her cheeks. “Yes. Yes, it’s beautiful.
Thank you.”
Then, one quiet morning, I found her peacefully gone in her sleep. The house felt hollow without her laughter and warmth. Meanwhile, Brian didn’t even come to the funeral.
It hurt me deeply, but I tried to focus on honoring her memory. Two weeks later, we were called to the lawyer’s office for the reading of her will. Brian and I sat in silence as the lawyer began.
“Brian,” he announced, “you have been left the house.”
Brian smirked, clearly pleased. He always had his eyes on the house. Then, the lawyer turned to me, smiling gently.
“Linda, your grandmother left you her clocks.”
“The… clocks?” I asked, feeling a bit deflated. He handed me five old, rusty clocks, each with a dull patina. My face flushed with embarrassment as Brian snickered.
But then the lawyer handed me an envelope. “Your grandmother loved you more than anyone, Linda,” he said softly. Curious, I opened the envelope.
The note inside was in Grandma’s handwriting:
Linda, never underestimate these rusty old clocks! They are 100-year-old classic timepieces that belonged to your grandfather. Each piece is crafted from rare, exquisite metal and worth about $40,000!
Everyone gets what they truly deserve, my dear. I’m glad you got only the best. With all my love, Granny Marlene.
My heart raced as I read her words. “She left nearly $200,000 hidden in these seemingly worn-out clocks,” the lawyer smiled. I looked at the clocks as tears blurred my vision.
Meanwhile, Brian rose from his seat. “What? Those things are worth that much?” he asked, his face pale.
I smiled through my tears. “Yes, Brian. Grandma knew exactly what she was doing.”
I clutched one of the clocks close to my chest and felt its rhythm sync with my heartbeat.
It felt almost as if Grandma was still with me. Thank you, Grandma, I thought as I walked out of the office with her beloved clocks. Thank you for giving me a piece of your heart to carry forever.
3. Granddad Forbids Anyone from Touching His Old Mattress, Girl Finds Stash There after His Death
My grandfather passed away, and all he left me in his will was an old house. Now that he was gone, it was all I had of him.
I missed the days when he was here. This house held so many memories. After my parents died in a car accident when I was just four, Grandpa became my everything.
My father, mother, and best friend. He understood me like no one else, and I loved every moment we spent together. As I wandered through the quiet house, lost in childhood memories, something clicked.
Grandpa’s mattress! I thought. I had always wondered why he never let anyone touch it.
“Don’t you dare, young lady,” he’d say with a mischievous grin. “It’s got secrets”
What had he been hiding all these years? Curiosity got the better of me and I lifted the heavy mattress.
Beneath it lay an old envelope, a leather-bound diary, a stack of photographs, and some yellowed newspaper clippings. My heart raced as I opened the envelope and flipped through the contents. The first lines of the diary stopped me cold.
“I can’t let Brooke live her life not knowing the truth about her parents”
My breath caught in my throat. What truth? I dove deeper into the diary, my eyes scanning the pages frantically.
Grandpa had detailed an investigation into my parents’ so-called “accident” He had believed their deaths weren’t an accident at all. His notes pointed to a cover-up involving a drunk driver, Mr. Johnson, and a corrupt police officer, Parker, who had let him go.
“Oh my God!” I whispered. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as I realized what had happened. Grandpa had spent years uncovering this, and now it was my turn to finish what he’d started.
The next morning, I marched into the local newspaper office with the evidence in hand. The editor, Frank, barely glanced at me. “We hear all kinds of wild stories,” he said dismissively.
“I’m sure you’ve got something similar.”
“This is something totally different,” I shot back, spreading the photos and clippings on his desk. “This is about my parents’ deaths and a cover-up involving the police department. Are you ready for the truth?”
Frank leaned forward, his skepticism melting into intrigue as he studied the evidence.
“This is explosive,” he admitted. “But are you ready for what this will bring? People will come after you”
“I’ve spent my whole life wondering why my parents died,” I said firmly.
“Now that I know, I’m not letting anyone stop me”
When the story hit the front page, the town exploded. Protests erupted at the police station and outside Mr. Johnson’s mansion.
The case was reopened, and Officer Parker cracked under questioning. “We were pressured by the Johnson family,” he confessed. “They wanted it buried”
Months later, the trial was a media circus.
I testified, my voice shaking but determined. The jury’s verdict brought relief like I’d never known. Justice had been served.
I visited Grandpa’s grave a few days later. “We did it, Grandpa,” I whispered. “Thank you for never giving up.
Thank you for all that you did.”
