The family fought bitterly over the box. It was beautiful, looking as though it were covered in gold and gems. They felt for certain whomever inherited it would find wealth within. The youngest two siblings asked only for the small wooden box that had been left out in the rain by the woodshed. The youngest two would never go hungry again. -- Fighting Fit
The jocular saying goes, "Where there's a will, there's an angry relative." It could not be more true in well-to-do families. The arguments over money, property, and treasured little gewgaws can drag on long before the head of the family shows any sign of decline.
For the Kazimarov family, the chief argument was over Marilow's treasure box. Which appeared to be solid gold, locked, and kept in a pride of place. Future ownership of the treasure box had devolved into fistfights every Midwinterfeast party.
There were other boxes, other containers of varying merit. Others that were battled over by all of Marilow Kazimarov's family. Both biological and adopted. Marilow grumbled and told them to stop all the bickering, that the things they were fighting for were not worth what they thought they were worth. Only the youngest of Marilow's adoptees didn't fight. They were barely teens and more afraid of losing their only stable family than anything else.
"Don't worry about the treasures to the eye," Marilow soothed. "True treasure is where nobody else would think to look."
Timra and Lamne had already had a lifetime of bouncing from home to home, so when Merilow fell into their last illness, they excavated their go bags and packed what they needed most. The family lawyer insisted they remain until after the estate was settled. They were not settled as the elder siblings descended like locusts onto the house and contents. They didn't listen to the will reading. They just waited for their doom to proceed. Holding each other for the only reassurance they could be sure of.
They watched through the windows as, one by one, relatives left with objects to haul away. One set moved in. One set struggled to hurry away with the golden treasure box, laughing that they got it.
The family lawyer knocked on their door, scaring them almost out of their skins. "You were named in the will," she said. "You are now owners of the summer house and lands, and one box, currently located on the back porch. I am named your caregiver in loco parentis until you reach your majority."
The box looked like an old chest. Beaten and battered by time. Weathered by the elemental forces of nature since it had stood there on that porch since before Timra and Lamne had been adopted. It remained closed and locked until they arrived at the summer house. Their house.
They had minimalistic furniture, an empty kitchen, and bicycles as transit. They also had the key to the box. The lawyer, Zemsun, merely observed as they opened the box...
And took out the exact pillows and bedclothes they needed to go onto the bare matresses on the empty beds, and a full, hot meal when they inspected it again.
"It is a Chest of Necessity," said Zemsun. "Your adoptive parent wished to make certain that your needs were met in the event of their demise. It will only ever contain what you need, never what you want. I will make certain your education continues, and that you find decent employ. Beyond that... you have every thing you need."
"It doesn't have a Rennie in there for us," said Lamne.
"Only things. Not anything living," repeated Zemsun. "I can find a social worker willing to provide a form of emotional stability, but... you are burgeoning on adulthood and independence. Legally speaking, you no longer need adult supervision. Emotionally speaking... that's horseshit. I can see you need some form of stability beyond things. Alas, the law binds me. I can stay with you tonight, and every night you don't have other legal care. Beyond that, I must only see to your legal needs."
"We get it," said Timra. "You're not throwing us out. You're... keeping us how you can."
"We're used to being unkeepable," added Lamne, "so thanks for making sure we can keep each other."
"I'll do what I can to be sure you get what you want as well," promised Zemsun. "Your adopted parental wanted to be sure you did."
"This is a good start," the twins agreed.
"What was in the fancy treasure chest?" asked Lamne.
"Vintage lace and a few tourist tchochkes," reported Zemsun. "The gold is paint and the gemstones are glass. Your adopted parent was very firm in regards to their object lessons."
[Photo by Sam Jotham Sutharson on Unsplash]
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