My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
“She planned everything, didn’t she?” I asked, setting a clump of damp earth aside.
“She knew when to plant,” Linda said, smoothing her canvas jacket with her gloved hand. “And she knew how long a root had to stay in the dark before it could stand the winter.”
We worked in silence for twenty minutes, our movements synchronized as we placed the three new bushes into the trench, packing the cool soil around their bases until the roots were fully covered.
The damp earth clung to my fingers, getting under my fingernails, but for the first time in three years, I did not mind the dirt.
“Mr. Bennett is coming by tomorrow evening with the final transfer deeds for the foundation property,” I said, resting my hands on my knees as I looked at our work.
Linda stood up slowly, her cane leaning against the stone wall where she had placed it before we began.
“He told me,” she said. “The papers are just the formality, Emily. You have already done the hard part.”
