– Mikhail, come quickly. Grandfather died last night.
The hand holding the phone receiver trembled slightly. The voice of his cousin uncle Viktor sounded dry, almost indifferent.
– What happened?
– His heart gave out. At his age, it’s common. The funeral is the day after tomorrow. If you want to say goodbye, come.
Mikhail clenched his fists. For him, grandfather Yegor was the only relative who never asked for help, never lectured, and never imposed his views on life.
The next day he was already standing at a quiet cemetery in a seaside town. There were few people gathered: Viktor with his wife Zoya, a couple of neighbors, and an elderly woman in a black headscarf who cried especially sincerely.
– That’s Anna Vasilievna, – whispered one of the neighbors. – She took care of grandfather like her own daughter in his last years.
After the memorial, Viktor pulled Mikhail aside.
– Listen, nephew… Grandfather made a will, but there’s almost nothing in it. The house is old, the plot is small — everything went to me as the senior in the family.
Mikhail nodded. He hadn’t expected to get anything.
– But he left you his fishing boat. It’s called “Seagull.” It’s at the pier — you can take it.
Zoya snorted:
– That junk just takes up space.
– Thanks, – Mikhail replied quietly. – Grandfather loved fishing on it.
– Well, then fish as much as you want. But keep in mind — the pier space isn’t free. Five hundred rubles a month.
The next morning Mikhail headed to the pier. The “Seagull” was rocking on the waves — a small wooden boat with peeling blue paint. The grandfather’s faded name was written on the stern.
– Nice boat, isn’t it?
Mikhail turned around. An elderly man with a gray beard stood nearby.
– Sergey Petrovich, – he introduced himself. – He was Yegor Ivanovich’s best friend. My condolences.
– Thank you. I’m Mikhail, his grandson.
– I know. Grandfather often talked about you. Said you were the only one from the family who came not for money but just to visit.
Mikhail climbed into the boat, inspecting the interior. Oars, a worn-out net, several floats. Rain began to drizzle, and he tried to close the hatch at the bow.
The lid got stuck. Mikhail pulled harder — and it gave way, revealing a small secret compartment.
– Strange… – he murmured.
Inside lay a folder wrapped in oilcloth. With trembling hands, he unwrapped it.
A land ownership certificate. Fifteen sotkas (about 0.15 hectares). Location — coastal line, three kilometers from the village. Owner — Yegor Ivanovich Morozov.
Date of issue — 1998.
– Sergey Petrovich! – Mikhail called out. – Look at this!
The old man whistled:
– Well, well! So he decided to leave it to you.
– Did you know about this plot?
– Of course. In ’98, Yegor Ivanovich bought this land with his last money. He dreamed of building a little house so the family could come to rest. But the relatives only asked for money.
– Why didn’t grandfather tell anyone about the land?
– He did. At first, he showed the documents to Viktor. He just shook his head — said it was senile nonsense, why did he need this wasteland. The rest of the relatives reacted the same way.
Carefully repacking the papers, Mikhail thoughtfully said:
– Now I have land by the sea.
– He often went there by boat. Said it was quiet, beautiful, many seagulls. Dreamed of building a sauna.
At that moment, Anna Vasilievna came to the pier. Her eyes were still red from crying.
– Mikhail, is it true what Viktor says — that grandfather left you only the boat?
– Not just the boat, – Mikhail showed the documents. – There’s also the land.
She widened her eyes:
– So that’s what he kept repeating in the last weeks! “Mikhail will understand why I need this land.”
– Did he say anything else?
– He said the land should go to someone who will appreciate it, not sell it to the first buyer.
In the evening, Mikhail decided to inform his uncle about the discovery. Viktor was sitting on the veranda of his two-story house drinking tea.
– Uncle Vitya, I found documents for the land plot in the boat.
Viktor choked.
– What documents?
Mikhail handed over the certificate. His uncle’s face quickly flushed.
– A fake, – he hissed. – Grandfather had completely lost his mind lately. Where would he get money for land?
– These are real documents. All the stamps and signatures are there…
– I said — fake! – Viktor raised his voice. – And even if it’s true, there’s no will for this land. So by law, everything goes to me.
Zoya peeked out from the house:
– Vitya, what’s wrong? Why are you yelling?
– This nephew wants to get rich. Brought some fake papers.
– I’m not going to argue with anyone, – Mikhail said calmly. – I just wanted to warn you that grandfather had more land.
– Listen carefully, – Viktor stood and stepped forward. – Tomorrow you go to the city and forget about those silly papers. Or through my connections in the administration, I’ll make sure you won’t even have the boat.
Mikhail turned and left. Behind him came Zoya’s irritated voice:
– Should’ve sold the boat right away. I told you so.
The next day a stranger in an expensive suit approached Mikhail.
– Alexander Yuryevich, – the man introduced himself. – I heard you have a plot on the coast?
– How did you find out?
– Viktor Petrovich told me. I buy land for development. I can offer a good price.
– It’s not for sale.
– Won’t even listen? Two million in cash.
Mikhail gasped. The amount was three times his annual income.
– I’ll think about it, – he answered.
– Don’t delay. Offers like this don’t come twice.
In the evening, Mikhail met with Anna Vasilievna.
– Someone offered me two million for grandfather’s land, – he said.
She nodded:
– I know. That Alexander has been buying up land here for a long time. They say he’s planning to build a cottage settlement.
– What would grandfather have done? Would he have sold it?
– No. Yegor Ivanovich said: “This land is for the soul, not for profit.” Lately, that’s all he thought about — how to build a sauna, set up a pier so the family could come.
– I have no children.
– But you will. And someday they’ll ask: where’s grandfather’s land? What will you tell them?
Mikhail was silent. Anna was right.
A few days later, Viktor came to him with a folder of documents.
– Here, – he threw the papers on the table. – A lawsuit. I’m going to challenge your rights to the land.
Mikhail quickly flipped through the papers. The legal wording was mostly unclear to him, but the gist was obvious.
– On what grounds?
– Grandfather wasn’t himself in recent years. There are witnesses. And besides, where’s the proof he bought the land himself? Maybe someone just took advantage of his trust?
– That’s not true.
– The court will decide the truth. Meanwhile, the plot is under arrest. No building or selling allowed.
After his uncle left, Mikhail sat in the boat and headed to the plot. In half an hour he reached the place. The beauty stunned him — a cozy bay, sheltered from the wind, sandy shore.
He imagined how grandfather came here alone, dreamed of a house where he would gather all the family. But the family only thought about money.
– Yegor Ivanovich found peace here.
Mikhail turned around. Sergey Petrovich was coming ashore, arriving in his boat.
– How did you find me?
– Saw where you were going. Decided to drop by. Heard Viktor started a case?
– He did. Says grandfather was insane.
The old man laughed:
– No, he remembered everything to the last day! Told stories about the war, recited poems by heart. He knew the papers better than any lawyer.
– Tell me, how did grandfather buy this plot?
Sergey Petrovich sat on a fallen tree:
– It was in ’98. He got a big pension for his years of service. Had long dreamed of a place by the sea. Found the plot — the owner sold cheap because there were no utilities nearby.
– Did the relatives know?
– Of course. Viktor was the first to come when grandfather was registering the papers. He looked and said: “Uncle, are you crazy? Why do you need this wilderness? Better give me money for the store.”
Mikhail pictured the scene in his mind: grandfather full of hope, and nephew thinking only of profit.
– How did grandfather react?
– Said: “Vitya, money runs out, but the land stays.” And he was right. Later Viktor came again with Zoya. She just laughed: “Senile nonsense — buying land in the forest.”
Mikhail felt anger growing inside. All these years grandfather kept his dream, and the family only mocked.
– Sergey Petrovich, can you testify in court? Tell them grandfather was sane?
– Of course, son. But remember — Viktor won’t give up easily. He has connections in the administration.
That same evening, Mikhail received a call from Alexander:
– Have you thought about my offer? Time’s running out. Viktor has already offered to buy the plot through court.
– So you made a deal with him?
– We’re just businessmen. We settle matters peacefully. Last time I ask: two and a half million — does that suit you?
Mikhail hung up.
The trial lasted three months. Viktor presented two witnesses who claimed grandfather was “not himself” in recent years. But Sergey Petrovich and Anna Vasilievna told in detail how clear Yegor Ivanovich’s mind remained until the end.
The decisive evidence was a medical report — grandfather regularly had check-ups, and no signs of mental disorder were found.
The court recognized Mikhail’s legal right to the plot.
After the hearing, Viktor approached him:
– Well, you won. Proud? But don’t think that’s the end.
– Uncle Vitya, – Mikhail interrupted, – enough. Grandfather wanted the family to have a place to gather. Come if you want. But as family, not as owners.
Viktor snorted and left.
Six months later, Mikhail built a small sauna and wooden pier on the plot. On weekends, he came here on grandfather’s boat, sometimes with Sergey Petrovich, who shared stories from Yegor Ivanovich’s military youth.
Anna Vasilievna became a frequent guest — helping with the garden Mikhail planted near the sauna.
Alexander called twice more with offers to buy the plot, but Mikhail didn’t even pick up.
One evening, sitting by the campfire on the shore, Mikhail realized: grandfather left him not just land. He gave him a true home — a place to build the future, remember the past, and feel part of something bigger.
And the “Seagull” rocked at the pier, ready for new fishing adventures.