Anna hurried up the stairs of the notary’s office, nearly half an hour late for the appointment. The traffic in the city had been terrible, and the bus had broken down halfway there. Her heart was pounding—not only from walking fast, but also from anxiety. Today the inheritance matter after her grandmother’s death was supposed to be decided.
In the waiting room her mother, Valentina Petrovna, and her brother, Mikhail, were already sitting. Her mother was dressed as if for a celebration, in a new suit, and a satisfied smile played on her face. Mikhail looked calm and confident, flipping through some documents.
“At last!” her mother exclaimed when she saw her. “We’ve been waiting for half an hour!”
“Sorry, the bus broke down,” Anna panted.
“With you it’s always some kind of problem,” Valentina Petrovna shook her head. “Good thing the delay isn’t critical.”
Anna sat down on an empty chair and looked around. The notary’s office looked respectable—oak furniture, leather armchairs, diplomas and certificates on the walls. Behind a large desk sat the notary, a man in his fifties with attentive eyes.
“So,” he began when everyone had settled, “we have gathered to hear the reading of Maria Ivanovna Sergeyeva’s will. Before we begin, I must уточнить: are all heirs present?”
“Yes,” Valentina Petrovna nodded. “I’m the deceased’s daughter, and Mikhail and Anna are her grandchildren.”
The notary opened a folder with documents.
“Good. But I must say the situation is somewhat unusual. We have two wills.”
“Two?” Mikhail asked in surprise.
“One will is dated last year, and the second was drawn up only a month ago.”
Valentina Petrovna frowned.
“A month ago? But Mom was already ill—she was in the hospital…”
“Nevertheless, the will was executed in full compliance with the law, in the presence of witnesses. According to the later document, it is the valid one.”
Anna felt something tighten in her chest. She had always been close to her grandmother, but in the last months her mother had категорически forbidden her to visit the sick woman, claiming Grandma needed peace and quiet.
“So what does this will say?” Valentina Petrovna asked, clearly nervous.
The notary put on his glasses and unfolded the document.
“According to last year’s will, all property—the apartment, the summer house, and the money—was to be divided equally between the daughter, Valentina Petrovna, and the grandchildren, Mikhail and Anna.”
“Well, there,” her mother brightened. “Fair enough—equal shares.”
“However,” the notary continued, “the later will contains significant changes.”
Mikhail leaned forward.
“What changes?”
“According to the new will, the apartment and the entire sum of money pass in full to the granddaughter, Anna Sergeyevna.”
A dead silence fell. Anna couldn’t believe her ears.
“How is that possible?” Valentina Petrovna sprang up. “That’s impossible!”
“I’m afraid it is possible. The will was made in the presence of two witnesses, and a medical report confirms the testator’s legal capacity at the moment of signing.”
“But why?” Mikhail asked, bewildered. “Why did Grandma change the will?”
The notary flipped through the papers.
“There is an explanatory note here, written in Maria Ivanovna’s own hand. I can read it aloud if you wish.”
“Read it,” Anna said firmly.
“‘All my life I tried to be fair to my children and grandchildren. But in the last months I understood who truly loves me. Valentina and Mikhail visited me only when they needed something. And my Annushka came just because—to talk, bring treats, help around the house. When I became ill, only she wanted to take care of me, but Valentina wouldn’t let her in. That is why I leave everything to my most caring and loving granddaughter.’”
Valentina Petrovna went pale.
“That’s not true! I forbade Anna to come because Mom was very sick!”
“And how often did you visit your mother in the hospital?” the notary asked.
“I… worked a lot… it didn’t always work out…”
“And you, Mikhail Sergeyevich?”
Mikhail said nothing, staring at the floor.
Anna felt awkward. She really had loved her grandmother, but she had never thought about inheritance.
“Wait,” she said. “What if the will is fake? What if someone took advantage of Grandma being ill?”
The notary shook his head.
“Impossible. The will was drawn up in my presence. Maria Ivanovna was clear-headed, answered all questions, and dictated the explanatory note herself.”
“But I’m her daughter!” Valentina Petrovna protested. “A mother can’t leave her daughter without an inheritance!”
“By law, she can, if there are other heirs. A will is the deceased’s expression of intent.”
Mikhail suddenly stood up.
“Anna, maybe we can work it out ourselves? Split everything fairly, like in the first will?”
“Misha’s right,” her mother supported him. “You can’t take everything for yourself! We’re family!”
Anna hesitated. On the one hand, she understood her mother and brother had been counting on the inheritance. On the other hand, it was her grandmother’s will.
“I don’t know… I need to think.”
“What is there to think about?” Valentina Petrovna jumped up. “Your inheritance—we gave it to your brother, you don’t need this!”
“How did you give it to him?” Anna blinked, stunned.
“Just like that! Mikhail needs it more! He has a family, children! And you live alone—you don’t need much!”
“Mom, but the will is made out to Anna,” the notary interjected. “No one can force her to renounce the inheritance.”
“I’m not forcing her! I’m just explaining that she needs to be fair!”
Anna looked at her mother and brother. In their eyes she saw greed and calculation. And she remembered how her mother really had kept her from the sick grandmother, saying Anna only upset the old woman with her visits.
“No,” Anna said quietly. “I won’t renounce the will.”
“What do you mean you won’t?” her mother exploded.
“It’s Grandma’s wish. And she knew what she was doing.”
“Anna, please think,” Mikhail pleaded. “I have a mortgage loan, the kids are in daycare…”
“And I have a mortgage too,” Anna replied. “And a small salary. I’m not living in luxury either.”
“But you’re alone! It’s easier for you!”
“Why is it easier? Because I don’t have a family?”
Valentina Petrovna stood and glared at her daughter.
“Anna, if you don’t share the inheritance, I won’t speak to you! Ever!”
“Mom, that’s blackmail.”
“It’s justice! A daughter has a right to inherit from her mother!”
“You do. But Grandma decided otherwise.”
The notary waited patiently while the family argued.
“So,” he said at last, “Anna Sergeyevna, do you accept the inheritance?”
“I do,” Anna answered firmly.
“Then we need to process all the documents. But first I must read one more part of the will.”
“There’s more?” Mikhail asked, surprised.
“Yes. Maria Ivanovna anticipated the possibility of a family conflict over money.”
The notary turned the page.
“‘If my family quarrels because of money, then I ask that the following be done. To Valentina I leave my jewelry and photo albums. To Mikhail—Grandfather’s watch and books. And also to each of them one hundred thousand rubles from my savings. That should be enough for them to understand: I loved them too, but fairness is more important.’”
Valentina Petrovna and Mikhail exchanged glances.
“So we still get something?” her mother asked.
“You do. Maria Ivanovna did not leave anyone completely without an inheritance.”
“One hundred thousand…” Mikhail said thoughtfully. “That’s at least something.”
“And Mom’s jewelry is expensive,” Valentina Petrovna added. “There’s a ring with a diamond.”
Anna listened and realized her grandmother truly had foreseen everything. She knew her family and prepared for their reaction.
“And the summer house?” Anna asked the notary.
“The summer house remains with you. But the will includes a request that you allow relatives to отдыхать there sometimes.”
“Of course,” Anna nodded. “It’s a big place—there’s room for everyone.”
Mikhail suddenly smiled.
“You know, Anya… maybe Grandma was right. You really did take care of her more than anyone.”
“Misha!” her mother protested.
“Mom, come on. We really didn’t go to see Grandma much. And Anya was there every weekend.”
Valentina Petrovna fell silent, then sighed.
“Maybe so. But it still hurts.”
“Mom,” Anna said gently, “I’m not greedy. If you ever need something, I’ll help. We are family.”
“Are you going to sell the apartment?” Mikhail asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll move there. It’s bigger than mine, and the neighborhood is good.”
“And your apartment?”
“I’ll sell it and pay off the mortgage.”
The notary began processing the paperwork. The procedure took more than an hour—many documents had to be signed, stamped, and fees paid.
“Congratulations on your inheritance,” he said in the end. “The documents will be ready in a week.”
Leaving the office, the family was silent. Outside, Valentina Petrovna stopped.
“Anya, I’m upset, of course. But you’re right—it was Mom’s will.”
“Mom, I understand you were expecting more.”
“We were…” her mother gave a sad smile. “Maybe we all should have spent more time with Grandma while she was alive.”
“Mom, she loved you. She just wanted us to understand it.”
Mikhail hugged his sister.
“Anya, I won’t be mad at you. Grandma was smart—she knew what she was doing.”
“Thank you, Mish.”
“And we really can use the summer house?”
“Of course. Come in the summer with the kids, like before.”
They reached the bus stop and waited.
“You know,” Valentina Petrovna suddenly said, “I remembered how Mom said in the hospital: ‘Only Annushka understands me.’ And I thought it was just the illness talking.”
“It wasn’t the illness,” Anna replied. “She just felt who truly needed her.”
The bus arrived. Sitting by the window, Anna thought about her grandmother. Even after death, the old woman had managed to teach the family a lesson—a lesson that love and attention can’t be replaced with money, and that fairness sometimes looks different than it seems at first glance.
That evening Anna came to her grandmother’s apartment. She opened the door with the key she’d had since the owner was alive. The entryway smelled of her grandmother’s perfume and old books. On the table lay a note, written in a familiar hand:
“Annushka, if you’re reading this, then everything went as it should. Don’t be sad that the family argued. They will understand and forgive. And you live here and be happy. I love you. Grandma Masha.”
Anna pressed the note to her heart and cried. But these were not tears of grief—they were tears of gratitude to the wise old woman who, even after death, continued to care for her.
