My biggest gift to you

'And you would have found your inheritance. My biggest gift to you, my children.'

He sat reading the black and white paper again. Convinced, he affixed his signature. 

"Are you sure Peter?" Roger asked. He had been his lawyer and best friend over the past 25 years. "Yes, Roger. This is my final will. I don't have enough time to remind my children about what is important in life. This is the only way. I'm sure they will hate me. But they will learn". Roger had known that solemn smile all too well to object any further. The two witnesses signed the document and Roger left. 

A month later Peter breathed his last in St Louis Hospital succumbing to lung cancer. The funeral arrangements were being made as per his wishes and his children were notified to attend the funeral. Roger was busy arranging for the funeral when Neal, Peter's eldest son arrived. 

"Hey, uncle Roger. Looks like my old man gave strict instructions. Stubborn and crazy man. Who plans their own funeral?"

"Probably one who knows he can't rely on his son," Roger remarked. 

Neal shrugged off the comment and went inside.

A while later they heard the Mercedes pull up in front of the porch heralding the arrival of Peter's youngest, Nick. 

"Hey, guys! Looks like dad made sure you do his bidding even after his death. Poor uncle Roger. God knows how you put up with him and his obsessions all these years uncle."

Arrogance and extravagance rippled from his very being.

"Let's not speak ill of the dead, son. Your father was a great friend. I would do anything for him".

Nick only smirked at him as he removed his shades and walked in. 

Roger remembered the first time he had met Peter. 25 years ago. Peter Holmes. Owned a library by the corner of the 12th street. Had the most exotic collection of books. Roger had come looking for a copy of Shakespeare's Hamlet. It offered solace to his ever-restless mind riddled with the trials and tribulations of law. 

" To be or not to be?"

Roger snapped from his reverie to look at the librarian. 

"You look like you could use a friend mister. Why take on Hamlet's profound questions when your mind is already unrest? Try this instead". Peter pulled out a book from under the table - 'Remedies for a restless soul' by Peter Holmes. A psychologist on weekdays and a librarian on weekends. A perfect balance one could say. That book had changed Roger’s life. They had become fast friends and had remained so through thick and thin. Peter's wife Sheila had died of tuberculosis when Nick was 8 years old. Roger being a loner had almost become a second parent to Peter’s children. 

Nick's wild chatter brought him back to reality. His friend was gone. And, he had been right. His children needed help. 

Neal was a successful businessman who travelled and traded across the globe. Pride was his biggest flaw. He never stepped down from his high horse to even look at his siblings, leave alone care for them. Always made sure he put them in place. Nick, on the other hand, grew up always seeking yet never receiving his brother's approval. A surgeon with a keen mind that could solve any puzzle, he looked forward to the day he would be considered an equal and not an underling. His fine suits did little to cover his wounded soul.

That left Nora. The middle one. Bright, caring and gentle, she had always been treated as a weakling. An English professor at Oxford, she shared her father's love for books. 

The funeral was planned for the next morning and by supper time, Nora arrived. As they sat at the dinner table, Roger laid out a paper in front of them. Their father's will. "Is this necessary now uncle Roger?" Nora asked. The only one who was truly upset about losing her father. 

"I'm afraid it is my dear. Because, unless you can find your father’s hidden treasure, the funeral can't begin. It is very essential that you find and bring the treasure for the funeral."

The three merely exchanged looks. A hidden treasure? The only treasure their father ever had were the books in the library. What other treasure could he have acquired? And by what means?

"Is this one of father's ridiculous puzzles? What treasure? Our father had no treasure to impart. The only thing he gave us were rules to live by and earful of never ending speeches. Is this some vile joke? Is he really dead uncle? I’m not going on a witch hunt for a dead man. If he wants his treasure let him find it from his grave" Neal got up. Nora put a hand on her brother's shoulder. 

"Please sit down. It's his last wish".

" This is utterly crazy! I had to cancel patient appointments for this nonsense?"

"That is enough Nick. This is our father. When you can care about someone else's father, you can damn well care about your own" Nora warned. 

Peter had not been the loving kind. After losing his wife, Peter had been strict with the children trying to make sure they were on the right path. He had been afraid to love.

"Please. You have all come together after 5 long years. I cannot see you fight. For old times sake, shall we all just listen to your old man, just this once? He is anyway not there to tell you anything ever again" Roger pleaded. The children sat. 

Roger began reading. 

"My dear children, upon a fine morning years ago, your mother and I found a little treasure. We promised ourselves that we would someday pass it on to you. And today is that day. I have hidden it here - Its a place where the shadows hide, where the earth is silent, where no sun can ever enter. It is a beautiful niche of memories. Find it if you can. And you would have found your inheritance. My biggest gift to you, my children.

Yours forever

Peter (Crazy) Holmes."

The children just stared in silence. Though angry, for once in a long while, they felt like kids eager to solve their Papa's puzzles. Anger was soon replaced by intrigue. Never able to resist a puzzle, Nick was the first to break.

"A place where the shadows hide....where the earth is silent...where no sun can ever enter...." Nick was reciting. The child in him had awoken from its long nap. He kept pacing around the dinner table. "Niche of memories....." and he stopped short. Nora looked at him quizzingly. 

"I won’t say until Neal asks."

Unable to avoid Nora's pleading look and his own hungry stomach, Neal complied. "Fine. What is it, brother? Do you know where it is?" He felt a little like his old self as he waited for his brother’s reply. His stomach grumbled impatiently.

" The crypts beneath the library! Remember? Father used to take us there when we were young. I'm sure it's there. Shadows hide as there is no light to cast a shadow. No windows for the sun to enter. Its dead silent! And we have so many memories playing around there!"

After a slight debate, they all agreed upon the place. It had been one of their favourite pass times. Nora and Nick played hide and seek as Neal would settle down with a copy of the latest book his father had acquired. Their father would then bring chocolate milk and cookies for a small evening snack and they would cuddle around him listening intently as he narrated stories from his past. Everything had stopped after their mother’s death.

They set out to the library. It was dark and solemn having lost its owner. As they reached the door to the crypts at the end of the major hall of the library, they realised they didn't have the key. "Now what?" Neal exclaimed. "All a waste. We don't have a key!"

"What if the next sentence - niche of memories - is the clue to the key? Beautiful niche...memories...was he playing on words?" Nora took off into the depths of the library as Neal and Nick stared at each other. "She is as hopeless as father!" 

A moment later, Nora emerged dangling the key. "I was right. The beauty and memoirs shelves are juxtaposed and in between that there is a small hole in the wall. The keys to the crypt were in the hole."

"Only you can understand such wild clues left by father," Nick remarked. Together they opened the door and descended the steps to the crypt. 

The familiar smell greeted them like a long lost friend. Their father had stored his most precious books there in specialized environment-controlled shelves. Was this their father's legacy? But how could they carry all those books out? Just as Nick and Nora were wondering, Neal started walking deeper into the crypts. He could almost hear his father's voice. 

"Upon a fine morning years ago, your mother and I found a little treasure" was he referring to how he had first met their mother? It had been a fine summer morning when Emily had wandered into his library searching for a copy of Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet'. That day, Peter had found his Juliet. 

Neal stopped in front of the shelf with the original copy of 'Romeo and Juliet' that his father had given to Emily. The shelf had no other books but was adorned with the belongings of their mother. It was her shrine. Amidst all that, there was a framed photograph of the 3 children. Neal bending a branch of the orange tree so that Nora could reach the orange and Nick sitting on the ground watching them with a toothless grin. Beneath the frame, however, was a note. Their crazy father!

The shelves were not meant to be opened. If they did, everything within the shelf would be destroyed due to the sudden change in temperature and pressure. "What do we do now brother?" Nora asked. Roger who had been silently watching them all the while cane forward and held up a torch. "Why don't you just read the note?"

They read:

"I am very proud of you my children. I was sure you would find this. Now my dears, you know I love my riddles;

I started when my eldest was born. As I flipped through, the month arrived when my princess was born. I recorded every word, sincerely until my last, and now my thoughts drift to the day my youngest was born. Find my treasure for it is yours. I safeguarded it for as long as I could. Now the time is yours." 

"You made us meet mom. What next dad?" Neal said gripped by nostalgia. He missed his mother. 

They ran up to the library office and found the ledger. 2nd page, 5th entry. 'Great Expectations' by Charles Dickens was lent out. All they could do was stare. What did their father mean? Was he mocking them from his grave? The excitement drained out from them and was replaced by hunger and exhaustion. They turned to leave when a thought struck Neal. 

"Do you remember Nora? If my memory serves me right, you presented dad with a copy of Great Expectations".

"Yes I did, but he returned it to me saying he already had too many copies of it. I had got it from London, where the story is based."

"London!!! That's it! The parlour. That is the only part of the house built in the British style. Also if you rearrange the letters of ‘Great Expectations‘, you will get ‘A cottagers next pie’. The cottage pie is one of dad’s favourites. And it is an English dish. There is something in the parlour." Nick was already racing back the house which was only a block away from the library. As they all arrived at the parlour, they noticed something had changed. In the place where a photo of their parents hung, a huge mirror stood shining as the first rays of the sun reflected off its surface. It was simply beautiful. The three children neared the mirror wondering if it was another clue. But all they saw was a reflection of themselves. 

"And you would have found your inheritance. My biggest gift to you, my children" it seemed to say. They were his biggest treasure! His legacies! Their father had taught them the biggest lesson though a simple game. That old psychologist! Teary-eyed they watched each other as they huddled together in an embrace. Roger smiled in relief.

Their differences melted away like the morning dew refreshing their hearts and filling them with love and joy. They hadn't lost their father. They had found him in each other.