2838. The prettiest garden

Patreen Dragicevich was rumoured to be the richest woman on the planet. No one knew exactly how she made her money. Some surmised that if she was that rich only corruption could account for it. Others wondered if her wealth hadn’t been inherited; after all she had one of those suspiciously foreign mafia names. No matter how the money had been gained it was to be measured in the billions.

Patreen had no known relatives. In fact, she had no known associates. Her wealth had made her isolated and suspicious of every one. She had forgotten how to make friends.

Rumours circulated, clearly with no basis, as to whom or what would inherit her wealth. Then out of the blue came a newspaper advertisement. It was a full page. All her wealth was to be put in a trust for the single local high school student who had the prettiest garden. “And I will be the judge”.

You can imagine! Parents and guardians stumbled over one another in an effort to create a pretty garden for their sprog. The amount of money spent on flower plants and seeds was astronomical. Not to mention the weed-eaters, and ride on mowers, and… You name it. One ridiculous father purchased four miniature horses and crafted a horn on each so they looked like magical unicorns wandering amongst the flowers.

Patreen rambled around the thousand or so gardens. “I have made up my mind”. All assembled at the high school for the big announcement. Patreen stood on the stage before a nervous and hushed and sweating audience.

“I have changed my mind,” she said. That was it. She walked off.

1735. Aunt Natalia wasn’t a bad old stick

 

Natalia kept her finances well-hidden. In fact, Natalie’s finances were so well-hidden that everyone presumed she was skint.

It wasn’t until she died that rumours started that possibly she had more than she led people to believe. She lived in a small fairly run-down house which she said in her will was to be sold, and what was left after funeral expenses should go to the Prevention of Cruelty to Cats Society. For the rest, it wasn’t much – not that she had much of a family anyway; just four or five grown-up nieces and nephews. Most each got what amounted to little more than an old piece of furniture or a domestic knick-knack.

Peter was left a dilapidated old writing desk. It was small, scratched, and ugly. In fact, he had nowhere to put it and no use for it. He dropped it off at the Salvation Army’s second-hand store on the way home. They could get a buck or two for it.

Freda was left a little music box that no longer worked. It had a glass ballerina on top that was meant to go around and around in time to the tinkling music. The container was much too big for jewellery. In fact it was a bit of a monstrosity. Dear Old Aunt Natalia! But… goodness! The broken music box was good only for the trash, which is where it ended up.

Darren was left Aunt Natalia’s old pieces of luggage; two battered suitcases. Not only were they empty, but they were extremely cumbersome and heavy. They were deceptively big for the relatively small amount they could hold. Just too, too old-fashion. He chucked them away.

Bryan got nothing other than a mention in the will. In fact the will stated that “Bryan gets a thousand dollars for every time he’s visited or asked after me in the last fifteen years – that is, absolutely zilch.”

Wendy got an old armchair. She actually did take it home. It was the right size for her dog. The dog’s bed was old and worn. This armchair wasn’t much better but it was free and suited the purpose.

So much for Aunt Natalia’s generosity! Yes, she kept her finances well-hidden because there was little to nothing to hide. The nieces and nephews weren’t particularly sad about her passing, although Wendy did say that “Aunt Natalia wasn’t a bad old stick”.

And then Natalia’s dog scratched a tear in the armchair’s upholstery.

1036. The late Aunt Hilda

I really am terribly excited! My husband’s old aunt has just died. Aunt Hilda. She was such a grouchy old bag. I couldn’t stand her. Every Sunday we would have to visit. We didn’t want to get left out of the will, and she was so rich. Unbelievably rich! But goodness! How to ruin a Sunday! In fact, how to ruin an entire week.

I didn’t bother going to the funeral. Why should I? Goodness knows I had visited her often enough. Missing out on her pre-cremation celebration was a pleasure. And then, later that same day, the will was read. Forty three million! Can you imagine? Forty three million! The things I’ll be able to do! In retrospect, it was worth putting up with her blue rinse every Sunday. You’ve no idea the relief now she’s kicked the bucket.

I’m going to start with a new car. And a new house. Not just a house, as you can imagine. More of a manor.

The only thing I have to do, and rather quickly, is to stop my husband from opening his email. He doesn’t open his email that often. I don’t want him to see the message I asked my divorce lawyer to send last week.

986. Moira’s cousin, Clive

Clive’s cousin, Moira, died and left him eleven million.

Moira had lived alone all her life, and to all intents and purposes, Clive was her closest living relative; “closest” in the sense of blood, rather than “closest” in the sense of emotional attachment. Moira was thirteen years younger than Clive and they had never been close.

Moira had quite simply got all her money from her father. Poor old Clive was the nephew and never got a thing. He barely had two pennies to rub together.

And then Moira upped and died.

She upped and died! Upped and died! Silly old Moira upped and died at one o’clock in the morning.

And about time too! Clive had waited to get his hands on her millions for years. And at last! At last!

It was so annoying when two days later the doctor gave Clive his marching orders.

Listen to the story being read HERE!

733. Glorious wealth

Although Gloria was one of the richest women in the country she didn’t flaunt it. It was family money. She had inherited it. She had grown up rich and was used to being careful with the pennies. She wasn’t a miser by any means; she lived comfortably; in fact, more than comfortably.

Her one regret, at least early in life, was that her wealth prevented her from living a normal life; especially the business of falling in love. Every guy she met she wondered if he was after her money. And then… oh yes! – she fell in love. She never thought it would happen but it did. André! André was the one. He didn’t care about her wealth; he cared about her!

But one day, just before the wedding day, maybe a week or two, she overheard him on the phone.

“Yeah – the marriage is just for a couple of years. Then I should get enough money from the settlement to live a life. It’s a bit like having to endure slowly working your way up the employment ladder, except this will be quicker. And a lot more profitable.”

Gloria was devastated. Devastated! She was wrung out like a rag. Her emotion was overwhelming. She vomited with grief. She didn’t have the energy (she couldn’t help it) to do anything about it.

Listen the story being read HERE!