Chapter Six—An Unexpected Legacy
There was an almost reverent hush over the Ingleside parlour as the lawyer prepared to read John Meredith's will. It was not, thought Una, that anyone was expecting to gain anything of monetary value from it; rather, it was one last link with the man they had loved and respected so.
It had been generally agreed upon in the clan that Rosemary was doing wonderfully, all things considered. She sat between Una and Bruce, her taffy-coloured hair that was only beginning to grey contrasting sharply with her black poplin dress. The sweet smile that had won her stepchildren's hearts was still on her face, but the wisdom that comes from sorrow flickered over it.
The lawyer, Mr. Richmond, who was a fat little man with an annoying habit of cracking his knuckles, began to read. "I, John Knox Meredith, being of sound mind, do hereby write my last will and testament on the twentieth day of February in the year 1932.
"To my dear wife Rosemary…"
Nan fidgeted inwardly. Mr. Richmond's voice was extremely nasally, and it was annoying her greatly. As if sensing her frustration, Jerry gently laid his hand over hers. Nan knew she was blessed to have so wonderful a husband. Even though she worried and fretted over everything, he just kept telling her, "It'll come out right, Nan." Like with Una—it wasn't that she wanted to take advantage of her loss, but Una needed a home and she could always use the extra help with her three youngsters. But Jerry told her not to concern herself just yet—who knew what Una was going to do, and anyway it was not her business.
"To my son Gerald Meredith, I leave my library of theological books, knowing that he will find great treasures within their pages…"
What a wonderful gift, Jerry thought. Father always knew what was right at the right time—like our Heavenly Father.
"To my son Carl and his wife Persis, the willowware that was his mother's…"
Persis didn't know quite what to think about that. She didn't actually know of anyone who used willowware anymore…it was out-of-date. But Carl had always told her how much he loved those dishes, so no matter the current fashion, there would be a place for them in their Toronto house, where she lived as the wife of a prominent Canadian scientist. However, my mother came from this shore…and left it for love. If Carl wanted to live here, I'd live here…for love.
The will went as most wills do…Rosemary was provided for, the family treasures were distributed between the siblings. Una had inherited her mother's wedding dress. She remembered how, as a lonely child, she would creep into the spare room, and bury herself in its grey silken folds. I wonder if I'll ever have occasion to wear it…perhaps someday, with Shirley? The thought seemed almost incongruous, but who knew what would happen? Already, her life had changed more in a little over a week than she had ever dreamed.
"Reverend Meredith's regular will ends here, but there is a codicil at the end dated two weeks following," Mr. Richmond said. He wanted to head back to Lowbridge, back to his wife's sausages and potatoes. After all, this had been a somewhat dull will. And they all seemed content with what they'd received…no disagreements or anything, although that one woman hadn't seemed particularly excited about those dishes. She was a beauty, that Persis—hadn't her mother come from the Glen? Some old scandal was there…maybe she'd been separated from her husband. Well, he didn't know, and he was ready to go home, see his family.
"Also, to my daughter, Una Meredith, I leave the sum of one thousand dollars. The rest of the family has other means of support, but she will be alone in the world, to a certain extent. However, this money is not to be used for the day-to-day business of living. In order for her to utilize it, it must be used for a trip to Europe. You have worked hard all of your life without much to show for it, my daughter. This is your reward."
Mr. Richmond wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. This had certainly livened things up. They were all whispering to each other. Funny, they didn't seem to begrudge her the money. Now, if it had been his family, that would have been a different story. Which one was Una, anyway? She must be the dark-haired one, the quiet one who had tucked herself away into the back corner. She looked awful white…
Una, for the second time in her life, had fainted.