A Christmas That Froze More Than the Snow
When Grandma passed away, our family rushed to her house like moths to a flame. Not to mourn her, but to find her will. They wanted money. I, however, took something no one else thought about—her old dog, Berta. I didn’t know then that Berta carried more than just memories of Grandma.
To bring our family together, you either had to throw a pile of cash in front of them—or wait for someone to die. That day, it was both.
I stood at the cemetery, the cold wind biting at my face, watching as Grandma was lowered into the ground. I held Berta’s leash tightly. She pulled forward, straining as if she wanted to follow Grandma into the soil.
Berta had been Grandma’s companion for years. She’d bought her when I was little, and as Grandma often said, “Berta is my best friend—the only one I can truly trust.”
Grandma was a remarkable woman. Kind, stubborn, and fiercely independent. She had earned a lot of money during her life, but never gave any to her children or grandchildren. Instead, she paid for our education. She believed everyone should rise from nothing, just as she had. That was her way of showing love.
Because of that, my mom, my uncle, my aunt, and their children hadn’t spoken to Grandma—or even mentioned her—until the day she died. I looked at their faces at the cemetery, full of greed and anticipation. Money was the reason they were here. But knowing Grandma, it wasn’t going to be easy for them to get a thing.
For the last six months of her life, I had moved in to take care of her. Balancing my job as a nurse with Grandma’s care was exhausting, but I managed. I knew she appreciated having someone by her side in her final months.
She hadn’t made life easy for me either. I remembered the day I received a huge repair bill for my car.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to pay for this,” I complained.
“You’re a strong girl. You’ll manage,” Grandma replied, her voice steady and kind.
She never coddled me, but she guided me. I was thankful for that.
After the funeral, the entire family crowded into Grandma’s house for the reading of her will. I had packed my things beforehand—I knew they wouldn’t let me stay. The atmosphere was thick with tension, silence, and cold, hostile glances.
Aunt Florence broke the quiet. “Meredith, remind me, what kind of doctor are you?”
“I’m a nurse,” I answered calmly.
“A nurse?” Uncle Jack repeated, incredulous. “You won’t make money that way. Tom has his own car company, and Alice owns several beauty salons.” He gestured toward my cousins, who were sitting with their noses in the air.
“I help people. That’s enough for me,” I said firmly.
Mom muttered under her breath, “I can’t believe I gave birth to her.”
I only spoke to Mom three times a year: birthdays and Christmas, always over the phone.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Nobody moved, so I went to answer it. Standing there was Mr. Johnson, Grandma’s lawyer. I led him into the living room where everyone waited silently.
“I won’t take much of your time,” he said politely, standing at the doorway. “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 said impatiently.
“It seems Cassandra didn’t think so,” Mr. Johnson said evenly.
“What do you mean?” Aunt Florence asked.
“None of you will receive any inheritance from Cassandra,” he stated flatly.
Gasps filled the room.
“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.”
But nobody moved.
“That old witch!” Uncle Jack yelled. “I knew she didn’t care about us, but not even a penny?!”
“Don’t say that,” I interjected. “Grandma cared about us. 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, 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? It’s better than throwing her out,” Mom said.
“Grandma loved Berta. Someone has to take 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 take her. My lease doesn’t allow pets,” I said quietly.
“Then it’s decided. We’ll put her down,” Uncle Jack said firmly.
“Tom? Alice?” I pleaded with my cousins.
Tom waved me off. Alice shook her head. “No way. I’m not bringing a flea-ridden animal into my house,” she said.
I sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll take Berta.”
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 and left, one by one. I gathered Berta’s things, helped her into the car, and drove to my apartment. My landlord reluctantly agreed to let me keep her temporarily, though he raised the rent.
Berta missed Grandma as much as I did. Grandma had been my supporter, my cheerleader, the one who celebrated my every success. I missed her terribly.
One night after a long hospital shift, there was a knock at my door. I froze. My mother stood there.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” I asked cautiously.
“I know you have it!” she shouted.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you inherited everything from Grandma!” she screamed.
“All I inherited was Berta,” I said.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Berta. Grandma’s dog,” I repeated.
“Don’t lie to me!” she yelled. “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 any to you,” I answered.
“Liar!” she screamed. “Where is it? You owe me!”
“I have nothing!” I cried, tears streaming down my face.
Berta climbed into my lap, nuzzling me. Then something on her collar caught my eye. I removed it and noticed an engraved address and the number 153. Frowning, I entered it into my GPS. It led to the train station—and a locker.
The tag on her collar could open. I pressed it, and a small key fell into my hand.
Without hesitation, I went to the station. Locker 153 opened with the key, revealing a folder marked “For Meredith.” Inside was a note in Grandma’s handwriting and some documents. I read the note aloud to Berta:
“I decided to leave everything to someone with a pure heart who would not exploit others. Everything I own goes to the person who cared for Berta. That person is you, Meredith. You are the only one left in our family who still shows decency. You deserve the best. With love, Grandma.”
Tears ran down my cheeks as I held the documents—Grandma’s will. It was real.
“Aha! I knew you were hiding something!” my mother’s voice hissed behind me.
Startled, I turned. “I swear, I didn’t know anything,” I said.
“So she really left everything to Meredith,” Uncle Jack’s voice echoed, as if he had appeared from nowhere.
“What are you doing here?!” my mother screamed.
“You didn’t think you were the clever one, sister. I hired a private detective to follow Meredith,” Uncle Jack sneered. “Now, Meredith, be a sweetie and 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.
“And where do you come from?!” Uncle Jack bellowed.
“The sensor on my phone alerted me when the locker opened,” Mr. Johnson explained. “I am responsible for executing Cassandra’s will, and I suspected this might happen.”
“I don’t care! I’m Meredith’s mother! I have rights!” Mom insisted.
“Cassandra’s estate goes to whoever cared for Berta. That wasn’t you,” Mr. Johnson said calmly.
“I’ll take that flea-ridden dog if I must!” Uncle Jack shouted.
“It’s too late. Meredith took Berta without knowing she would inherit. That was the condition of the will. Any interference, and you’ll deal with me and the police,” Mr. Johnson warned.
I clutched the folder, my hands shaking, barely able to speak.
“Come on, Meredith, we have a lot to discuss,” Mr. Johnson said, and we left for my car.
“Why did she do this? Make everyone fight?” I asked.
“She wanted her money to go to a good person who would spend it on good deeds,” he said.
I nodded. “Then I will give the larger portion to the hospital.”
“It’s yours now. You can do whatever you want,” Mr. Johnson said.
I missed Grandma more than ever that day, but I promised myself I wouldn’t let her down. I would honor her trust, care for Berta, and use what she left to do good in the world.