so that she was level with the foot of the bed, she reached underneath and dragged out a small, black box. “La llave, ¿Señor?” With a click, she opened the safe. Inside was a stack of uncashed checks bearing neat signature and a yellowed envelope. It was addressed to Emiliano in his Emiliano’s father’s hand. murmured Fausto from the doorway. “Your parents’ wills,” you, Fausto, Señorita Medina. I will see you at the funeral “Thank tomorrow?” we should speak before you open it. I--,” “Perhaps stuttered Fausto. will not be necessary, Fausto. I would like to be Fuera. “That alone.” If that is “Very well. all.” Emiliano waited until the departing footsteps of the both the lawyer and maid had faded and listened for the clang of the front door. When he was alone, he carefully ran his finger under the flap of the envelope and teased it open. His will was succinct: father’s To my only son, Emiliano Carmen de Vega, I leave my home. To my wife, Berta Carmen, I leave my other material possessions. In the event of death, Emiliano shall Berta’s premature receive what I have bequeathed to her. My debts are mine alone, to be paid with money in savings. Emiliano scanned over the words without emotion. He was now the owner of this ruined home and its endless supply of trinkets. He reached back into the envelope and pulled from it his testament. It read: mother’s Emiliano, my possessions are yours. I implore you, wither not.
so that she was level with the foot of the bed, she reached underneath and dragged out a small, black box. “La llave, ¿Señor?” With a click, she opened the safe. Inside was a stack of uncashed checks bearing Emiliano’s neat signature and a yellowed envelope. It was addressed to Emiliano in his father’s hand. “Your parents’ wills,” murmured Fausto from the doorway. “Thank you, Fausto, Señorita Medina. I will see you at the funeral tomorrow?” “Perhaps we should speak before you open it. I--,” stuttered Fausto. “That will not be necessary, Fausto. Fuera. I would like to be alone.” “Very well. If that is all.” Emiliano waited until the departing footsteps of the both the lawyer and maid had faded and listened for the clang of the front door. When he was alone, he carefully ran his finger under the flap of the envelope and teased it open. His father’s will was succinct: To my only son, Emiliano Carmen de Vega, I leave my home. To my wife, Berta Carmen, I leave my other material possessions. In the event of Berta’s premature death, Emiliano shall receive what I have bequeathed to her. My debts are mine alone, to be paid with money in savings. Emiliano scanned over the words without emotion. He was now the owner of this ruined home and its endless supply of trinkets. He reached back into the envelope and pulled from it his mother’s testament. It read: Emiliano, my possessions are yours. I implore you, wither not.