At Grandpa\u2019s funeral, 18-year-old Dahlia felt completely alone as her family seethed over the meager $1 inheritance they each received. But when a stranger handed her a secret note, Dahlia was drawn into a mystery only she could solve.<\/p>\n
I stood by the graveside, my hands buried in the pockets of a black dress that felt two sizes too small. The priest\u2019s monotonous voice blended with the rustling wind, but I barely heard it. All I could feel was the weight of loss pressing down on me.<\/p>\n
This should have been a moment of mourning, but the air around me was thick with something else\u2014resentment. Grandpa had left each of us just one dollar in his will, and my family was fuming.<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t angry, though. I was empty. Grandpa wasn\u2019t supposed to be gone. He was the only person who ever saw me\u2014really saw me. To the rest of the family, I was just the spare kid, the screw-up. But to him, I was someone who mattered.<\/p>\n
As I looked down at the flowers scattered across his coffin, I spotted my single red rose among the sea of white daisies everyone else had placed. It was the only thing that stood out, just like Grandpa had always made me feel.<\/p>\n
Behind me, I heard Aunt Nancy hiss, \u201cOne dollar. That\u2019s it? He was loaded, and all we get is one damn dollar?\u201d<\/p>\n
Uncle Vic let out a bitter chuckle. \u201cHe did it on purpose. Spiteful old man.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTypical Dad,\u201d Mom muttered, crossing her arms. \u201cHe always had his favorites. And Dahlia was his little pet. Bet she got something we don\u2019t know about.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stiffened as Aunt Nancy\u2019s sharp eyes bore into me. \u201cWhat did he leave you, Dahlia? Anything? Don\u2019t pretend you didn\u2019t get something.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t,\u201d I replied flatly. \u201cI got the same as all of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom\u2019s grip tightened on my shoulder. \u201cAre you sure? You were always with him. Maybe he told you something.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her words stirred up memories\u2014Grandpa\u2019s goofy tales of hidden treasure, the butterscotch candies he kept in his pocket. He\u2019d always wink and say, \u201cOne day, kiddo, I\u2019m leaving you a real treasure.\u201d<\/p>\n
But it was just a game, a joke between us. Or so I thought.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"