Millicent Collins was an eccentric, surly, old woman. She kept those around her loyal by promising each a pittance of her massive fortune.
When she died they rushed to the estate, hoping to hear their name at the reading of her will.
The attorney droned through the list of bequeaths. To her housekeeper, the china, silver, crystalware; to the butler, the Mercedes; on and on until most everyone had a piece of her.
The reading concluded, “For bringing me roses every day; for his kindness, I, Millicent Collins, leave the house and grounds to my dear gardener, John.”
100 Words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers Flash Fiction Challenge inspired by this photo by © Sarah Ann Hall.