The Ashmore Lady

Chapter 1: The Will's Condition

"I can still hear Mr. Carlson's voice," they said, leaning back in their chair, the weight of that day pressing down like a heavy fog. "Everything we'd ever known, everything the family had worked for, was suddenly hanging by a thread—because of one impossible detail."

It was a dreary afternoon, the rain coming down in sheets, blurring the view outside the grand windows of Ashmore House. We all sat in the drawing room, an air of anticipation hanging over us like the dark clouds gathering outside. My father was pacing, a sure sign that something was wrong. My mother sat stiffly on the edge of her chair, her fingers twitching in her lap. My brothers, John and William, slouched in their seats, the picture of casual indifference—though I could see the tension in their eyes.

I was the youngest, always a little apart from them, and even then I felt it. I'd been close to my grandmother, Elizabeth Ashmore, in her later years. The others had kept their distance, but I'd been the one to sit with her, to listen to her stories about the family's past, about her dreams for Ashmore House. I suppose, in some way, I thought I understood her better than anyone else. But when Mr. Carlson, her lawyer, unfolded that will, I realized how little I truly knew her.

"Thank you all for gathering today," Mr. Carlson began, his voice low and deliberate. He fumbled with his briefcase, pulling out a stack of papers, each one covered in my grandmother's meticulous handwriting. He cleared his throat, looking up at us over his glasses. "As you know, your grandmother, Mrs. Elizabeth Ashmore, left very specific instructions for the distribution of her estate. And now that her health has severely declined, it's important we review the details."

The tension in the room thickened. We all knew what was at stake—Ashmore House, the family fortune, everything that kept us in the lap of luxury.

My father stopped pacing and stood near the fireplace, his eyes fixed on Mr. Carlson. "Get on with it, Carlson. We don't need the theatrics."

Mr. Carlson nodded, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for. "Mrs. Ashmore's will stipulates that her entire estate, including Ashmore House, is to be inherited by her eldest granddaughter."

The words hit like a bomb. We all froze. Granddaughter?

I remember sitting there, stunned, watching the gears in my father's mind turn. I glanced at John and William, both of whom looked equally confused. We were all sons. There wasn't a granddaughter to inherit anything.

"There must be some mistake," my father said, his voice tight. "Elizabeth knew full well I only have sons. My brother as well. Neither of us have a daughter. Why would she put such an absurd stipulation in the will?"

Mr. Carlson adjusted his glasses, flipping through the papers again. "There's no mistake, Mr. Ashmore. It's written clearly in her own hand. The estate is to be passed down to the eldest granddaughter. If no such granddaughter exists at the time of her death, the entire estate—including Ashmore House—will be auctioned off, and the proceeds will be donated to fund a community center in Ashton."

"A community center?" my mother's voice rang out, sharp and incredulous. "The Ashmore's built this town for Pete's sake. And now that old woman wants to give our home to them too! For a community center?"

"I'm afraid those are the terms," Mr. Carlson said, his tone measured. He didn't seem too interested in the drama unfolding before him, just in getting through the details.

My father ran a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. "So let me get this straight. If there's no granddaughter, we lose everything? The house, the fortune, all of it?"

Mr. Carlson nodded gravely. "That's correct. Your mother's will is legally binding, and unless there is a granddaughter present at the time of her passing, the entire estate will go to auction."

I watched as my father's face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he processed this. His brother, my uncle Charles, had only sons as well, so there was no backup plan, no hidden granddaughter waiting in the wings. The entire Ashmore legacy, the sprawling estate, and the wealth that had supported generations of Ashmores—it all hinged on something we couldn't provide.

John broke the silence first, his voice dripping with disbelief. "So we're supposed to just watch it all go down the drain? Because we weren't lucky enough to have daughters?"

William snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Seems like the old bat's got one last trick up her sleeve."

"William!" My mother shot him a glare, but it was clear that she, too, was shaken by the news.

"How could she do this?" my father muttered, pacing again. "Elizabeth loved this house. She loved this family. Why would she put everything we have at risk like this?"

The room descended into a tense quiet. No one had an answer. We sat there, processing the impossible—our entire future hanging in the balance, all because of a single word in my grandmother's will.

They paused, watching the way the shadows shift in the room as the memories settle over them. "In that moment, we were all lost. No one had any solutions. We were just angry, confused... and scared."