Charlotte Marlowe was a strange woman, and no one was close enough to her to understand why. She spent her days staring at the plain white walls of her hospital room, her mind a mystery to anyone who visited. Perhaps her head was full of thoughts and memories, but it was just as likely that it was empty.
When Charlotte was first admitted to the hospital at the young age of 65, shortly after her husband William R. Marlowe died, her youngest daughter Evelyn came often to brighten her spirits. Evelyn was a sweet woman, newly married with young kids. She and her family would leave flowers, sing songs, tell stories, but it was all in vain. Charlotte was shut off, and only spoke occasionally to make some ill comment, such as, "Your time is wasted here, and so is mine. I have more important things to do than this." But everyone knew that she had nothing better to do than sit in silence.
As Evelyn's life grew busier, the visits trickled down until nobody came anymore. Charlotte showed no sign of minding, or even noticing the absence. Nevertheless, her oldest daughter Anne felt obligated to move closer so she could see her more.
Anne had two children at the time of her big move, nine year old Eve and six year old Marie, and was recently divorced. And despite her rocky relationship with her mother, Anne knew it was the best thing to do for her family.
Before moving, Anne avoided talking about Charlotte, only sometimes explaining to her daughters that "Your grandmother is better off without our help, I promise." Because Anne was not at all close to Charlotte, she hardly came to visit and rarely brought Eve or Marie.
Marie had a few faint memories of going to see her grandmother as a child, and would never had considered them close. But as a teenager, the job of visiting her grandmother was handed off to her. She would go every day after school for about thirty minutes, practically talking to herself.
At first she hated the chore, for it caused her to miss out on a lot of the seemingly more important things in her life and Charlotte never showed appreciation of the sacrifice. But over time, she saw her grandmother opening up, even a little bit, which was far more rewarding than any word of thanks.
The entire family started to notice a change in Charlotte as well, for the far off look in her eyes seemed to be slowly fading. She spoke a bit more, and even smiled from time to time. Her heart was opening day by day, for it seemed that Marie was the only person who had ever been willing to truly care for this strange old woman.
But when Marie turned eighteen and left home, she no longer made the time to visit her grandmother. Slowly, all of the progress she had made with Charlotte withered into nothing, as the old woman shut people out even worse than before.
***
Marie Westbrook never thought she would move back home. She was content with her life far away from her troubled family. Being twenty-five with no husband or children, unlike her older sister, the disapproval of her mother was far too much. Not to mention that she had a stable career as a journalist, a comfortable two bedroom home, and a loyal companion: Her two year old calico cat named Tamsin.
But one warm Sunday afternoon, while she was curled on her couch reading her favorite book, she heard a knock. Marie jumped to her feet, hurrying to open the door. "Who could it be, Tammy?" She whispered to her cat as she began to turn the brass door knob.
To her utter surprise, there stood Eve with her daughter Jane at her hip and her son Leo standing beside her. Marie was so puzzled that she couldn't even piece together a sentence.
"I'm so sorry we didn't tell you we were coming. The trip was in such short notice, but there is no time to talk now. Come get in the car, and I'll tell you on the way home." Eve said with a smile.
"What? Home?" Marie stumbled over the words, her eyes wide.
"Yes. Grandmother will be dying soon, and all the family must be there by tomorrow for her to read her will." Eve sounded unusually calm as she explained the situation.
"Shouldn't this be a dismal thing?" Marie asked incredulously, "Not to be anticipated, and excited over?"
"Well, of course it's sad." Eve frowned thoughtfully, "But mother explained that, in fact, we have no need to be sorrowful. Grandmother has always been a sort of burden on our family, and now we won't have to worry about her. It's a positive thing for everyone, Marie. Grandmother will finally be at peace, and so will we. And mother is rather excited to see her inheritance..."
No matter how hard her sister tried to mask it, Marie could sense a sort of selfish malice hidden inside her tone. Of course the entire family would rejoice when Charlotte died. None of them loved her enough to mourn, in fact nobody loved her at all. Even her own daughters felt a sense of relief imaging her death.
Marie felt sick as she recalled Eve's words, shaking her head in disbelief. Charlotte may have been cold and troubled, but she was a part of their family nevertheless. And with that, Marie knew she had to go home so her grandmother could have at least one person to love her in her dying moments.
Without another word, she packed her bags hastily and asked her neighbor to care for Tamsin while she was gone. And within a few hours, Marie felt a wave of nostalgia as she recognized the town where she had grown up.
***
Marie woke to the sound of her three year old nephew screaming and her one year old niece crying.
Breakfast was burnt, because Eve had just gotten a new stove and the was still learning how to manage the temperature. She struggled to feed Jane while her husband Oscar frantically tried to dress the angry toddler. Meanwhile Marie stared off in the distance as she wondered how her day would be.
She would see her mother for the first time in years, as well as her grandmother and the rest of her family. She would, in a way, learn her worth in Charlotte's eyes according to what she inherited. Or perhaps she wouldn't inherit anything.
By the time they all arrived at the hospital, there was an odd feeling buzzing in the air. Marie didn't like it. Especially when her mother ran over, pulling her into a tight hug while faking a little sniff.
Marie was always closer to her father than her mother, despite hardly ever seeing him. He was kind and honest, always bringing fun to anything. Her mother, on the other hand, had a tendency to lie and always seemed to make a situation about her.
As if on cue, her mother spent the next ten minutes in the waiting room explaining to Marie how devastated she was. Eve nodded along with sympathy, while Marie tried hard not to roll her eyes.
When the rest of the family arrived, they all made their way to Charlotte's room. And there she sat, her skin thinner and her eyes more hollow than the last time Marie saw her. The old woman glanced at each face walking in, and paused for a mere second at the sight of her beloved granddaughter. The light that flickered in her eyes was subtle enough to go unnoticed, but Marie saw it. And she let herself smile, even if it didn't reach her eyes.
Charlotte's croaky voice was hard to hear as she began to read her will. Marie let the words fade into the background as she looked at the clinical tile floor. She would occasionally hear that her mother and aunt received a large amount of money. Or that her sister and cousins would be given a lesser but still substantial sum of money as well. But she continued to wait for her own name, until she worried it would never come.
And then, just as Charlotte was approaching the last few sentences of the page, her name was spoken.
"And lastly, I, Charlotte Marie Hallewell-Marlowe, upon my death, devise to my granddaughter, Marie Westbrook, the property of my father's house and all of the belongings within it."
Everyone in the room let in an audible gasp, fixing their gaze on Marie. Throughout her life, Charlotte had made many remarks of how her father's house was "haunted" and therefore would never be passed on to anyone. So when did she change her mind?
But that wasn't their only concern. This house was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, full of the most expensive and ornate furniture. It was far more valuable and worth far much more than anything else she had given away that day.
Shock morphed into anger as the rest of the family wondered why Marie, of all people, was fit to inherit the house. But she just looked at her grandmother thoughtfully, her arms folded in her lap, gaining a small sense of satisfaction as the family tried to change Charlotte's mind. But they all knew that she would never let her decision waver.
For a moment the old woman stared back at her granddaughter, her eyes almost shining in amusement, before her gaze turned sharply to the selfish complaints of her relatives.