The inheritance

From the office on the eighteenth floor of Riverside Tower, the entire panorama of Budapest stretched out before you. Alexander Harrington stood at the window, a bottle of Scotch whisky in his hand – a bottle he had kept for thirty-three years, waiting for this very moment. He was sixty-three years old, and although the mirror still showed him the man he once was – broad-shouldered, firm-jawed, sharp-eyed – his body no longer obeyed him the way it used to. The whisky was bitter. Just like the memories. Thirty-three years. Thirty-three years had passed since Uncle Joseph's will had changed his life. The uncle he had barely known, who had lived out his life in America, whom he had only known through letters. Uncle József, who had never married, who would have left his fortune to his only younger brother – Alex's father – but his father had died in the meantime. And so Alex became the fortunate heir. Fortunate. What a strange word. He had been thirty years old then. Young, full of plans, full of hope. His father had died shortly before the great inheritance arrived. The grief he felt for his father still burned strongly within him. His mother had handled his father's will; Alexander had been so consumed by work that he had entrusted everything to her. That was precisely why there were certain details he had never known. When news of the inheritance spread, the entire city took notice – the business circles, the social scene, and of course those families who had daughters of marriageable age. The Blackwood family was among them. Memorable was the day when Gábor Blackwood – once a respected industrialist, now struggling with financial difficulties – walked into his office and, sitting down on the other side of the desk, announced without any preamble: "Alexander, you know what kind of girl Barbara is. Beautiful, intelligent, from a good family. And I can give you connections that will do your business a world of good. What would you say to holding the wedding in November?" Alex looked up from his papers. His eyes swept over the man – the slightly faded suit, the nervous hand gestures, the beads of sweat on his forehead. "Mr. Blackwood," he said slowly, "I have never met Barbara. I have seen her in company a few times, but I would not say we know each other." "That may be so, but the wedding will still be in November," Blackwood shot back, all courtesy gone from his face. "I will see to it that your business receives the proper support in this city. In return, you will marry my daughter." Alex slowly set his pen back on the desk. He was silent for a long moment. "Tell me," he finally asked, "do I have any other choice?" His voice was at once weary and steely. Blackwood pulled his lips into a half-smile. "Of course. There is always another choice. But the consequences... those are always there as well." "Very well, I will think it over. But first I would like to meet your daughter. I ask you only this – do not tell her that we are to be married until after I have met her." "Fine, I'll arrange it. Whenever you want to meet Barbara, let me know in advance and I'll organize a party." "No party. Just myself and your family." That evening, Alex lay awake for a long time. He stood before his mother's bedroom door and knocked. Elisabeth – a frail but strong-spirited widow – looked up from her book when her son entered. A single glance told her everything. "Tell me," she said quietly. Alex sat down on the edge of her bed, as he had done as a child, and told her everything. Blackwood's offer. The threat. The November wedding. His mother listened in silence for a long time. Alex spoke first. "Very well, then I will renounce Father's inheritance and I will be free," said Alex, his voice surprisingly calm. "I will marry the woman I choose, not the one being forced upon me." Elisabeth turned pale. "Alex..." she whispered. "I mean it, Mother. I will not sell my life for a business arrangement." His mother slowly set down her book. Tears glistened in her eyes – tears she held back with quiet pride. "My son," she said softly, "if you renounce the inheritance... I will have to leave this house as well. I have nothing anywhere else. This inheritance is all I have. Your father stated in his will that the business and the house would only be yours if you married Barbara Blackwood, the daughter of the local industrialist. The two old men had long ago agreed to bind your lives together. Only then Blackwood went bankrupt. That is why he clings tooth and nail to this marriage. Otherwise his entire family ends up on the street. And then there is your other inheritance as well... Just think – what does he gain with you, and what does he lose without you? As for me, I will manage somehow. God is good to me, I will find a way if you decide to renounce your father's inheritance." The silence in the room was almost oppressive. Alex looked at his mother – that frail, grey-haired woman who had raised him alone, because his father had almost always been away on business trips, who had never asked for anything, who had only ever given. Something broke inside him. "Mother..." he began. "I am asking nothing of you," Elisabeth interrupted, lifting her head. "This is your decision. I have only told you what is, I have laid out the facts." Alex stood up. He walked to the window and looked out at the night city. He stood there for a long time, motionless. "Very well," he said at last, and his voice was quiet, like a door being closed. "The wedding will be in November. But I will meet Barbara first." The next morning, an envelope arrived. From America, with an old stamp, on slightly worn paper. It was Uncle Joseph's handwriting – but the postmark showed that the letter had been sent months earlier and had only now arrived. Alex sat down at his desk and opened it. "Dear little Alex, By now I know you have received the news of the inheritance. I also know that many people will appear in your life who will wish to turn this inheritance to their own advantage. Pay attention to whom you trust. I also know – because life always works this way – that someone will try to force you into making a decision that you would never freely choose. I am writing this letter to tell you something that the decades have taught me. Fight for your happiness, my son. Fight for it even when it seems difficult, even when many stand against you. Because only love is capable of overcoming all boundaries – the barriers of business, the expectations of society, the fears within us. Everything else is dust and ashes. I myself did not fight for my own happiness in my time. I went far away and became wealthy – but I remained alone. That is my greatest regret. Do not follow my example. With love, Your Uncle Joseph" Alex sat for a long time with the letter in his hands. He crumpled it slightly between his fingers, then smoothed it out again. Finally he placed it in a drawer, among the other old papers. A few days later, Alex sent word to his future father-in-law that he would like to meet Barbara, and that if it suited them, he would visit on Tuesday afternoon. The messenger returned with the reply that they would be glad to receive him. He arrived at the Blackwood villa with two bouquets of flowers in his hands. The villa's garden was vast, filled with wonderful shrubs and trees. It was clear that it had once been better cared for, but had been somewhat neglected of late. Small wonder, since Mr. Blackwood had gambled away all his money at the horse races. The old man claimed he had lost so often because the horses were always fixed. But he never admitted that he had wagered enormous sums, and that he had become almost compulsively addicted to betting on everything. Barbara opened the door and was surprised when Alex held out one of the bouquets to her. "Why am I getting this?" she asked. "And I don't quite understand the point of this visit. I'm glad you came, but I don't quite understand why." "Good day to you as well, dear Barbara! I will explain everything in order in just a moment. Where is your dear mother? I would like to give her the other bouquet." "You brought flowers for my mother too? What is going on here?" Barbara stood holding the bouquet, visibly quite bewildered.