One day, I inherited the house of my deceased neighbor who hated me, but his one condition made me act like never before - Story of the day

I was a florist: bouquet orders came in via the internet and good old-fashioned word of mouth. That summer, marriage proposals saved me.

The roses from my garden were in high demand by brides.

I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down on the porch with my notebook. I took a sip and glanced at the flowerbed and almost choked.

But what is...?

Instead of neat rows of rose bushes, there was a whole mountain of dark earth. Right in the middle of my flowers!

"Oh, come on! That's not it! Who else but that old parasite could it be?"

I knew exactly who it was. My neighbor, Mr. Sloan.

The only downside to my peaceful life outside. The man who had devoted his retirement years to making my life miserable.

"I'm going to tell him everything this time. It's my job, for heaven's sake."

I angrily stepped over the stones at the edge of my yard and stopped. In front of Mr. Sloan's old house were two cars I didn't recognize.

"What happened here?", I asked Mrs. Pearson, the woman from the next street over.

"Linda... Harold... passed away last night. Heart attack, they say."

All the anger that was inside me flowed out as if someone had poured it directly onto the ground, onto my crushed roses.

"Miss M.?"

I turned around. A man in a suit approached and extended his hand to me.

"James H., Mr. Sloan's lawyer. After the funeral, we will read his last will and testament. You are required to be present."

"Me? Are you sure?"

"That's his wish. You'll know everything after the farewells."

I glanced back at the pile of earth and the dead rosebush pointing out from underneath.

I felt a shiver run through me...

Qu'est-ce que vous avez préparé cette fois, Sloan ?

***