I always thought my grumpy old neighbor, Mr. Sloan, lived for one reason: to make my life miserable.
For years, I couldn’t understand how one man could find so many ways to interfere with the life of the woman living next door.
But the morning he dumped an entire pile of dirt over my roses, I had no idea that he had already made plans that would change my life forever.
At the time, I thought the dirt was just another one of his petty acts.
I was wrong.
I loved mornings, especially out in the suburbs where I could breathe, work in my garden, and enjoy the small amount of peace I’d managed to create for myself.
I was a florist. Most of my bouquet orders came through the internet and old-fashioned word of mouth. That summer, weddings had kept my business alive.
And my roses were a big reason why.
Brides loved the flowers from my garden. They had a softness and character that store-bought flowers simply didn’t have, and every wedding order meant another reason to keep planting.
That morning, I made myself a cup of coffee and sat on the porch with my notebook.
I took one sip.
Then I looked toward the flower bed.
I nearly choked.
“What the hell…?”
Instead of the neat rows of rose bushes I’d spent months cultivating, there was a mountain of dark soil dumped directly in the middle of them.
Right on top of my flowers.
“Oh, come on! Not again!”
I was already standing before I even finished the sentence.
“Who else could it be if not that old pest?”
I knew exactly who it was.
Mr. Sloan.
My neighbor.
The only real downside to my otherwise peaceful life.
The man who seemed to have dedicated his retirement years to finding new ways to irritate me.
“I’m gonna tell him everything this time,” I muttered. “This is my work, for heaven’s sake.”
I stepped angrily over the stones at the edge of my yard.
Then I stopped.
There were several unfamiliar cars parked in front of Mr. Sloan’s old house.
My anger suddenly gave way to confusion.
I walked toward the street and saw Mrs. Pearson, a woman who lived a few houses away.
“What happened here?” I asked.
She looked at me with an expression I had never seen on her face before.
“Linda… Harold passed away last night.”
My stomach dropped.
“Passed away?”
“Heart attack, they say.”
All the anger inside me drained away as quickly as water disappearing into the soil.
I looked back at my crushed roses.
Only moments earlier, I had been furious with the old man.
Now he was gone.
“Miss M.?”
I turned.
A man in a dark suit was walking toward me.
He held out his hand.
“James H. Mr. Sloan’s lawyer.”
I stared at him.
“After the funeral, we’ll be reading his last will. You’re required to be present.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Even dead, Mr. Sloan apparently still had something planned for me.
The following day, I sat in the back row of the small funeral hall.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the coffin.
For years, I’d thought of Harold Sloan as an old man who had nothing better to do than make my life difficult.
But sitting there, watching his coffin at the front of the room, I found myself replaying every argument we’d ever had.
Every insult.
Every disagreement.
Every time he’d looked at me as if he knew something I didn’t.
I swallowed hard.
“What did you cook up for me this time, old man?”
What cruel joke had he left behind?
After the funeral, James invited me into a small office inside the funeral home.
An unfamiliar elderly woman was already sitting there.
She wore a simple hat and kept staring out the window.
There was something strangely vulnerable about her.
I sat across from her, trying not to stare.
James opened his folder.
“All right,” he said. “I’ve gathered you here to read Mr. Sloan’s last will. There are two points that concern you.”
I clenched my hands beneath the table.
Then he looked directly at me.
“Linda, you inherit Mr. Sloan’s house. The entire property.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
He shook his head.
“He left me his house?”
“Yes.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Then James paused.
“Under one condition.”
Of course.
There it was.
The catch.
I looked at him suspiciously.
“You must take in Mrs. Rose D. She’s here with us.”
He nodded toward the elderly woman beside me.
“You are to allow her to live in your new home and look after her. She will remain with you for as long as she wishes.”
