My dear, my lady, he said, pressing a sealed will into my hand. You are the only one mentioned. Ive provided for my daughter, so shell have no claims against you. Edward Whitaker kissed my wrist and showed me the document.
Hearing that filled me with warmth, and my respect for my English husband grew. I hadnt needed prenuptial agreements or insurance; I trusted his decency and kindness. I was wrong.
I had met Edward through an online correspondence. I longed to marry a foreigner. I lived in Manchester, retired and unable to find a partner of my own age. The thought of caring for a frail old man at home repelled me. Abroad, senior citizens seemed spry, adventurous, and still traveling.
Edward was seventysix; I was fiftyfive, the same age as his daughter, Emily. Our letters went on for a year, during which we grew familiar, testing each others temperaments.
Soon I flew to England, to the town of Arbroath, determined to marry Edward. An imposing, wellkept gentleman greeted me, clutching a modest bouquet of slightly wilted roses. I wanted to turn back then, but the drama had only begun. The roses, now scentless, lay in my hands.
Edward drove me to his large house and served a modest twoperson lunch. I asked for a vase for the sad roses; he handed me a glass of water. The moment I placed the flowers in it, the pink petals fell aparta sign, perhaps, from above.
Both of us understood that love was not our aim. I needed financial security; Edward needed a companion to look after him. Two lonely elders had found a convenient match.
He promised to make me heir to all his estate after his death. As it turned out, a promise does not become a deed.
We were married shortly thereafter. I became Mrs. Whitaker. The ceremony was simple, attended only by Edwards daughter and her husband, their three children, and a familiar couple from his circle.
I was Edwards third wife. In his first marriage he had twin daughters, Felicity and Emily. Though he had once been adamant about having no children, his first wife defied him and bore the twins. Edward grew fond of them, but his wife never forgave his opposition.
When the girls turned eighteen, Edward left the family dramatically. His wife could not bear his departure and died in her sleep two years later. He left the threestorey house, a country villa, three cars, and his businessall to the twins, even transferring the company to Felicity.
Later Edward found an older woman, Margaret, who also had no desire for children. She was seven years his senior. Their arrangement worked well until Margaret fell ill. Edward tended to her tenderlymassaging, feeding, even changing her nappiesuntil she passed away.
Tragedy struck again when Felicity was found dead on a roadside under mysterious circumstances; her murderer was never identified. Edward fell into a deep depression. During this bleak period Emily never visited him.
When Edward recovered enough, he decided to marry again, buoyed by the optimism of online dating sites. Thats how I entered his life as Mrs. Whitaker.
All the finances belonged to Edward. He seemed miserly, giving the bare minimum for groceries, scrutinising every receipt, demanding written accounts for any expense. When I asked for a little extra for cosmetics, he grimaced as if Id offered him a sour lemon. Still, each year we travelled on cruises and excursions, his longheld dream.
I treated Edward kindly, respected his age, learned his favourite recipes, looked after his health, and stayed by his side in both good times and bad, as the saying goes.
Then a stroke struck. An ambulance rushed him to intensive care. I called his daughter immediately; she hurried over, but not to see her fathershe came to meet me.
Sarah, she said, holding his will, listen to this: All movable and immovable property I bequeath to my daughter. To my wife I leave a sum determined by my daughter for a respectable livelihood.
It meant Edward had secretly rewritten his will in Emilys favour, fearing guilt over the deaths of his first wife and Felicity. He kept the secret, believing he owed his daughters repayment.
Holding a grudge, Emily never visited again. Edward never met his three grandchildren.
I thought I would stay by Edwards side, but his daughter was already positioning herself to claim the inheritance. For six months I cared for him in the hospital, feeding him, stroking his hand, talking to a man who no longer recognised anyone. He was eightytwo when death finally claimed him.
At the front door of the house I shared with Edward, Emily appeared.
So, Sarah, youll have to leave this house as soon as possible. Ill give you enough money to rent a modest room, then youll get council housing. Id return to my own country if I were you. You have nothing here.
I imagined myself shivering on the street, cold and hungry.
Dont tell me what to do, Emily, I replied, still reeling from my husbands death. Im not ready to make decisions yet.
Six months later, lawyers warned me that suing would be futile and expensive. Though I was entitled to fifty percent of the estate, Edwards altered will nullified that right. I still lived in his house, a fact that infuriated Emily.
Get out, Sarah. Youve taken care of an old, senile man; now youll have to leave without any inheritance, she snapped.
A thought struck me. I pulled out the original will from my desk.
Emily, here is the first will where Edward left everything to me. I can prove in court that he was of unsound mind when he changed it. Perhaps he signed it under pressure, I said.
Emily fell silent, considering my words.
For a while I rented a cheap room in Arbroath, drove Edwards car, and survived on the modest sum I could extract from Emily. Eventually I met Pierre, a widower who noticed me jogging in the park with my dog. We fell in love, and now I am married to him.
Through all the twists of fate, I learned that chasing security through others can leave you penniless and isolated, but kindness and perseverance can lead to new beginnings. The true wealth lies not in inherited money, but in the resilience we forge within ourselves.
