I was sitting in the doctor’s waiting room when my phone rang. It was my only daughter, Angela. Her voice sounded strange, almost cold, as she said, «Mom, we’re going on a trip to Europe tomorrow.» «I already sold your beach house and your car. We needed the money. Bye.» And she hung up, just like that. Forty-five years raising her, sacrificing for her, and she discarded me like garbage. But I took a deep breath and smiled because there was something my dear daughter didn’t know.
My name is Antonia Brooks. I’m 71 years old. And until that moment, I thought I knew my daughter.
I had become a widow six months ago. My husband, Robert, had passed away from a heart attack while we were eating breakfast, just as we had done every morning for 45 years. That morning, he had served me coffee with cream and toast. As always, he had kissed my forehead and said, «Good morning, my love.» Those were his last words. Since then, Angela had been more present in my life, or so I believed.
She came to visit three times a week. She helped me with the funeral arrangements and accompanied me to the grocery store. She even suggested I see a doctor for a general check-up.
«Mom, you need to take better care of yourself now that you’re alone,» she’d say with that smile I thought was love, but now I understood was for convenience. The beach house had been our sanctuary for years. Robert and I bought it when Angela was 15, with a lot of hard work and sacrifice.
Every summer we’d go there, building memories, celebrating birthdays and Christmases. Angela would bring her boyfriends, and later her husband, Edward. I would cook for everyone, clean and do the laundry. It was our family tradition. I never thought she’d see it as just money.
And the car, that old Ford pickup truck Robert cared for like his own child. He’d wash it every Sunday, change the oil religiously, and always park it in the same spot, under the shade of the tree. Angela knew what that truck meant to me. It was the last thing I had left of him. His scent still lingered on the seats.
When she hung up, I stayed there on that uncomfortable green plastic chair, surrounded by other sick people, and for the first time in months, I didn’t cry. Something strange happened inside me. A calm I hadn’t felt since Robert’s death.
Because in that moment, I remembered something I had completely forgotten. Three days before he died, Robert had handed me a manila envelope. «Antonia, put this in the drawer of your dresser. If something happens to me, open it after a while, but only when you feel ready.»
I had put it away without much thought. After the funeral, with so much grief and so many arrangements, I simply forgot. But there it was, waiting for me at home.
The nurse called me to go into the office. The doctor examined me and said I was in good health for my age, that I just needed to rest more and eat better. I nodded and smiled, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about that envelope, about the coldness in Angela’s voice, and how Edward was probably behind all of it. He had never liked me.
He always saw me as a nuisance. I left the office and walked slowly to the bus stop. I no longer had a car, according to Angela. But as I waited, I couldn’t help but smile. There was something poetic about all of this. My daughter thought she had left me with nothing, but what she didn’t know was that Robert, my dear Robert, had always been a man who planned ahead.
The bus arrived, and I sat by the window. I watched the city go by: the houses, the stores, people rushing everywhere, all with their own tragedies, their own secrets. I had my own, too, and I was about to discover them.
When I got home, I went straight to my room. I opened the dresser drawer, and there was the manila envelope, exactly where I had left it. My hands trembled slightly as I picked it up. I could feel there were several documents inside. Robert had written my name on the front in his neat handwriting.
I sat on the bed we had shared for so many years and took a deep breath. It was starting to get dark outside, and the house was filling with those familiar shadows that no longer scared me. I opened the envelope slowly, as if unwrapping a birthday gift. What I found inside would change everything.
What I found in that envelope took my breath away. There were legal documents, deeds, bank certificates, and a handwritten letter from Robert. My eyes filled with tears as I read his familiar handwriting.
«My dear Antonia, if you are reading this, it means I am no longer with you. Forgive me for not telling you everything while I was alive, but I wanted to protect you from worries. Over the years, I invested our savings in properties and businesses. We don’t just have the beach house. We have six other properties, including the apartment building where Angela and Edward live. We also have shares in three companies that are worth more than you can imagine. You are rich, my love. You always were rich. But now you are on paper, too.»
My hands trembled as I looked through the documents. There were deeds to houses in different city neighborhoods, a downtown condo, a small motel on the coast, and, indeed, the twenty-story apartment building where my daughter lived. Robert had been the silent owner for the past ten years but had put everything in the name of a company I didn’t know about. And according to the papers, I was the sole heiress of that company.
There were also bank statements for accounts I never knew existed, with numbers that seemed unreal. Robert had been a bus driver for forty years, but apparently, he had also been a very smart investor. Every penny we saved, every sacrifice we made, he had multiplied in silence, and I never knew anything.
In the letter, Robert explained that he had kept it all a secret because he didn’t want me to worry about money or for Angela to know about our real financial situation. «You know our daughter, Antonia. If she knew we had so much money, her attitude would change. I want her to love us for who we are, not what we have.» What irony! Our daughter had left us thinking we had nothing, when in reality, we had everything.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I walked around the house, touching the old furniture and the knickknacks Angela had always criticized for being outdated. I looked at the family photos on the wall, especially the one where she was five years old, sitting on Robert’s lap and laughing. Where did that sweet little girl go? When did she become so cold, so calculating?
The next day, early in the morning, the phone rang. It was Angela again. Her voice sounded different, softer. But I had already learned to be wary of those shifts in tone.
«Mom, how are you? I wanted to tell you we already transferred the money from the house and the car. We deposited your share into your account. It’s not much, but it’ll help you live for a few months while you look for something smaller.»
«My share?» I asked, keeping my voice calm.
«Yes, Mom. We obviously weren’t going to leave you with nothing. We gave you 30%. That’s fair, right? We need the money for our investment in Europe. Edward has an incredible business opportunity over there.»
Thirty percent of my own things. How generous. «I see, honey. And when do you leave?»
«This afternoon. Our bags are already packed. We’ll be gone for at least six months, maybe more if the business goes well. But don’t worry, Mom. When we get back, we’ll help you find a small apartment, something that fits your needs.»
Fits my needs. As if she knew what my needs were. «Okay, Angela. Have a safe trip.»
«Oh, Mom, I knew you’d understand. You’ve always been so compassionate. We love you so much.» And she hung up.
I stood there with the phone in my hand, and for the first time in months, I laughed. I laughed like I hadn’t since Robert died. The situation was so absurd. It was comical. My daughter had robbed me, kicked me out of my own house, talked to me with unbearable condescension, and all to fund a European adventure that would probably be a disaster.
But what bothered me most wasn’t the money. It was the ease with which she had discarded me. Forty-five years of my life dedicated to her, of sacrifice, of unconditional love, and she had erased me from her life with a two-minute phone call. That was what truly hurt.
I checked my bank account online. Sure enough, they had deposited an amount that probably seemed generous to them, but to me was a mockery. They had sold the beach house for much less than it was worth, likely because they needed the cash quickly, and they had sold Robert’s truck for a pittance.
That afternoon, from my window, I watched Angela and Edward load their suitcases into a cab. He was carrying two huge suitcases. She had a very expensive-looking carry-on bag. I watched them laugh, kiss, and make plans. They looked like two teenagers excited for an adventure. They never looked toward my window, never said goodbye.
When the cab drove away, I sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea and Robert’s documents spread out on the table. I had to make some decisions. I could call a lawyer, reclaim my properties, and get back everything they had taken. But something told me there was a better way to handle this, a more educational way.
I called Mr. Peterson, the lawyer who had handled Robert’s affairs. He had been at the funeral, had given me his condolences, and had told me to call if I ever needed anything. Well, now I needed him.
«Mrs. Brooks, it’s good to hear from you. How are you?»
«I’m doing well, Mr. Peterson. I need to see you urgently. I found some documents from Robert that I don’t quite understand.»
«Of course. You can come to my office tomorrow morning.»
«I’ll be there.»
That night, for the first time in months, I slept soundly. I dreamed of Robert. He was sitting in his favorite chair, reading the newspaper, just like every morning, and when he saw me, he smiled and said, «It’s about time, my love. It’s about time you stood up for yourself.»
I woke up with a strange feeling. It wasn’t exactly happiness, but it wasn’t the sadness I had felt for so many months either. It was something like determination. For the first time since Robert’s death, I had a clear purpose. I was going to get back what was mine, but not in the way Angela expected.
The next morning, I got dressed with more care than usual. I put on my wine-colored dress, the one Robert always said made me look elegant. I fixed my hair and put on a little makeup, and when I looked in the mirror, I saw a woman I hadn’t seen in a long time. I saw a strong woman.
Mr. Peterson’s office was downtown. It was an old but elegant building with marble floors and large windows. He greeted me with a warm smile, but when I showed him the documents, his expression changed completely.
«Mrs. Brooks, this is… this is much more than I imagined. Robert was a very smart man. Look, according to these papers, you are the owner of…»
«I know, Mr. Peterson, I’ve already reviewed them. What I need to know is what I can do legally.»
Mr. Peterson explained that everything was in order, that the documents were legitimate, and that I was the rightful owner of all those properties. He also confirmed something I had already suspected. The sale of the beach house was illegal because Angela had no right to sell it.
