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Emily leaves a substantial bequest to a gentleman whose name is Gregory Creighton. I have chosen not to document exact figures regarding the estate, but it suffices to say his bequest would be a windfall for an ordinary working person of middle class means. I do not know who this person is. None of the other beneficiaries know him and so my search starts, virtually from the time of initial notification. (Atkinson, 2012)

Chapter eight illustrates clearly the consequences of creating a will with dreams and wishes rather than cold facts. New information about her friend, not known prior to her death, is revealed to the author. Legal counsel permitted Emily to leave a bequest to a person whose whereabouts are unknown and the ramifications to the executrix are huge. This chapter is shrouded in mystery and unanswered questions but the reader may learn, via the story, how to avoid such personal complications themselves.

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS (II):

While others, no doubt, primp for a party or curl up by their fire ready to usher in 2010, David and I stop at the local grocery store and pick up a couple of frozen dinners. We get a bottle of wine and make our way back to Emily’s through the icy, quiet streets of the little town. We sit in her family room and listen to CBC on the radio and eat something from a box with not enough vegetables and way too much salt, as we plan our next attacks before the weekend is over and we are again forced to navigate the winter roads back across the province. (Atkinson, 2012)

The work is lonely. It involves sacrifices. If Emily had imagined, even for a moment, what we went though, she might have done things differently. What is left behind for an executor to manage oftentimes sends unintended messages.

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS:

Violet deals with Emily’s clothes. She trudges through the snow between their adjoining back yards to the house every day and toils away for a few hours. She methodically cleans out drawers and closets, packing items into green garbage bags for pickup by a local charity. Lingerie goes into the garbage. Anything else requiring repairs is trashed as well. Emily has clothes in every size imaginable. She has more than fifty pairs of shoes and a couple of dozen coats. Some garments have never had the tags removed. She has purses that still have their paper packing inside. Every closet in her three thousand square foot Cape Cod home is stuffed with clothes. In the end, there are ninety-three green garbage bags that wait stoically for the charity pick-up van. I stand at the top of the utility room stairs and gaze out over the garage floor, down on a sea of green sacks with their integral red ties, all neatly arranged in rows by Henry. They manage to look festive with that particular Christmas colour combination. They cover all the space where two cars could have parked. Violet and I are both completely baffled. In all the time we have known Emily, in all the conversations we have shared, she never once discussed shopping for clothes with either of us. (Atkinson, 2012)

And so, the work of cleaning out someone else’s house begins. You never really know a person until you start combing through their bedside tables and their dresser drawers. Emily is full of surprises. She was always a very private person but the author has no idea the life she was leading. Her health problems, her money problems, her loneliness and her grief are all clearly illustrated by her decisions and through her possessions. It is overwhelming and the author does not get through it without the support and help of a very select few special people who also come to understand the Emily behind closed doors.