A Christmas That Froze More Than the Snow
When Grandma passed away, the house felt strangely quiet, except for the muffled footsteps and whispers of my relatives. They rushed through her home, scanning every corner, desperate to find her will. I didn’t join them.
Instead, I did something different—I took Grandma’s old dog, Berta, home with me. Little did I know, Berta carried more than just memories of Grandma. She carried a secret.
To bring our family together, you either had to throw a pile of money in front of them—or wait for someone to die. That day, it was both.
I stood at the cemetery, shivering despite my thick coat, watching as Grandma was lowered into the cold, dark earth. I held Berta’s leash tightly, and she pulled forward, her eyes locked on the coffin as if she wanted to follow Grandma one last time.
Berta had been Grandma’s companion for years. Grandma had bought her when I was little, and often said Berta was her best friend—the only one she could truly trust.
Grandma had been a good person, though particular in her ways. She had earned a lot of money, but she never handed out a single penny to her children or grandchildren. Instead, she invested in what mattered to her: our education. She believed in earning life the hard way, rising from nothing, just as she had.
Because of her strict ways, neither my mom, Uncle Jack, Aunt Florence, nor my cousins had spoken to Grandma—or even mentioned her—until that day.
I studied their faces as they gathered around the grave. I knew why they were here. Money. They hoped that after Grandma’s death, they’d finally get a piece of her fortune. But knowing Grandma, it wasn’t going to be that simple.
For the last six months of her life, Grandma had been very sick. I had moved in to care for her, balancing her needs with my job as a nurse. It hadn’t been easy, but I knew she appreciated having someone by her side in those difficult moments.
She hadn’t made life easy for me, though. I remembered one day, sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a massive car repair bill.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to pay for this,” I confessed.
“You’re a strong girl. You’ll manage,” Grandma replied calmly.
Even for me, she made no exceptions. But she always guided me in her own way, and for that, I was thankful.
After the funeral, the entire family headed to Grandma’s house to hear the will. Knowing them, I had already packed my things. I wasn’t going to let anyone intimidate me or push me out.
We waited in tense silence until the lawyer arrived, exchanging only cold, hostile glances. Finally, Aunt Florence broke the quiet.
“Meredith, remind me, what kind of doctor are you?” she asked, bored.
“I’m a nurse,” I replied.
“A nurse?” Uncle Jack scoffed. “You won’t make any money that way. Tom has his own car company, and Alice owns several beauty salons,” he added, pointing at my cousins, who smirked proudly.
“I help people. That’s enough for me,” I said firmly.
“I can’t believe I gave birth to her,” Mom muttered under her breath.
I talked to her exactly three times a year: on my birthday, her birthday, and Christmas. Always by phone.
The doorbell rang suddenly, and when nobody moved, I opened it myself. Standing there was Mr. Johnson, Grandma’s lawyer. I led him into the living room, where my family sat, stiff and silent.
“I won’t take much of your time,” Mr. Johnson said calmly. “There isn’t much to discuss.”
“What do you mean, not much to discuss? What about the will?” Mom snapped.
“She must have left something to someone,” Uncle Jack pressed.
“It seems Cassandra didn’t think so,” Mr. Johnson said flatly.
“What do you mean?” Aunt Florence asked, puzzled.
“None of you will receive any inheritance from Cassandra,” he stated.
The room erupted in shocked gasps.
“How is that possible?! We’re her family! Who will get the money and the house then?!” Mom shouted.
“I’m afraid I can’t share that information with you,” Mr. Johnson said. “Now, I must ask all of you to leave the house.”
But nobody moved.
“That old witch!” Uncle Jack yelled. “I knew our mother didn’t care about us, but not even a penny after she died?!”
“Don’t say that,” I said quickly. “Grandma cared about us. She worried about everyone—she just showed it in her own way.”
“Yeah, right,” Mom muttered. “She was a witch while she lived, and she’s still one now.”
Berta barked loudly, breaking the tension.
“Oh right, and what are we going to do with that dog?” Aunt Florence asked.
“Put her down,” Mom said coldly.
“I agree,” Uncle Jack added. “She’s as old as dirt anyway.”
“You can’t put her down!” I shouted.
“And what are we supposed to do with her? Better than throwing her out on the street,” Mom said.
“Grandma loved Berta. Someone has to take care of her,” I said.
The room filled with bitter laughter.
“If you want her, then take her,” Mom said. “That woman didn’t care about us. Why should we care about her dog?”
“I can’t. My lease doesn’t allow pets,” I said quietly.
“Then it’s decided. We’ll put her down,” Uncle Jack insisted.
“Tom? Alice?” I looked to my cousins, desperate.
“No way,” Alice said firmly. “Not bringing a flea-ridden animal into my house.”
Tom waved me off.
I sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll take Berta,” I said.
Mr. Johnson cleared his throat. “I’ll ask you one last time, please leave the house. You no longer have the right to be here.”
Everyone grumbled, gathering their things, and finally left. I packed Berta’s belongings, helped her into the car, and drove back to my apartment.
My landlord reluctantly allowed Berta to stay, raising the rent slightly, but I didn’t care.
Berta missed Grandma, just as I did. Grandma had always been my only true supporter. She had paid for my education, celebrated every patient’s recovery, and always asked about my work. I missed her terribly.
One evening, after a long night shift at the hospital, there was a knock at my door. I froze.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” I asked, stunned.
“I know you have it!” she shouted.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you inherited everything from Grandma!” my mother yelled.
“All I inherited was Berta,” I said.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Berta, Grandma’s dog,” I repeated.
“Don’t lie to me!” Mom screamed. “You lived with her for six months. She must have left everything to you! You were always her favorite granddaughter!”
“Grandma didn’t give me money, just like she didn’t give you,” I said calmly.
“Liar! Where is it?!” my mother screamed before storming off.
I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. Berta climbed into my lap, comforting me in her gentle way.
Then something caught my eye—a small tag on Berta’s collar. I flipped it over. An engraved address and the number 153 stared back at me. I put it into my GPS. It pointed to the train station, locker 153. But where was the key?
I looked closer at the tag—it opened. A tiny key fell into my hand.
Without hesitation, I went straight to the station. I found locker 153 and tried the key. It fit.
Inside was a folder marked “For Meredith”. My hands shook as I opened it. There was a note in Grandma’s handwriting and some documents. I read the note aloud:
“I have decided to leave everything I have earned in my life to a person with a pure heart who will not exploit others. Everything I own will go to the person who agreed to care for Berta. And I am certain that person is you, Meredith. You are the only one left in our family who still shows decency, and you deserve the best. With love, Grandma.”
I held the documents—Grandma’s will—in disbelief.
“Aha! I knew you were hiding something!” my mother’s voice boomed behind me.
“Startled, I turned. “I swear, I didn’t know anything,” I said.
“So she really decided to leave everything to Meredith,” Uncle Jack appeared, smirking.
“What are you doing here?!” Mom shouted.
“You didn’t think you were the clever one, sister. I hired a private detective to follow Meredith,” he said. “Now, Meredith, hand over the will.”
“No! You’re my daughter! Give it to me!” Mom screamed.
“Meredith will give it to no one,” Mr. Johnson said firmly.
“The sensor on my phone alerted me when the locker opened,” he explained. “I came as soon as I could.”
“I don’t care! I have rights to the will!” Mom insisted.
“Cassandra’s estate goes to whoever took responsibility for Berta. That was not you,” Mr. Johnson said calmly.
“It’s too late. Meredith took Berta. That was the main condition,” he added, glaring at Uncle Jack.
I held the folder, trembling.
“Come on, Meredith, we have a lot to discuss,” Mr. Johnson said, leading me to my car.
“Why did she do this? Why make everyone fight?” I asked.
“She wanted her money to go to someone who would do good,” he explained.
I nodded. “Then I will give the larger portion to the hospital,” I said.
“It’s yours now. You can do whatever you want,” Mr. Johnson said.
I missed Grandma more than ever, but I knew I wouldn’t let her down.