In sombre tones the family gathered

The hopeful rubbed their hands together.

Expectation was high

Riches awaited.

They thought they had

Crossed their ‘T’s and dotted their ‘I’s.

The lackadaisical wanted it over

There was drinking to be done

Places to go people to see.

The table began to fill

One was wondered why he was there?

Another thought the gold-digger was rude

It was obvious she was after it all

What had she done for him

Apart instil in him

A sense of dread for living.

What an injustice, a crime

A slap in the face

For the ones who cared and who stood by him.

But he was a crazy old coot to say the least.

Feet shuffled nervously as the first words of greeting

Brought the meeting to order.

The reader was nervous having perused the document

Anticipating that some would be unhappy

Some elated

Some would challenge

Some would shrug and move on.

But a shit fight was on the cards

And he would be in the firing line.

But the young, the old, the in-betweens listened

Some focused on the reader,

Some looked at the far wall

A few smiled

A few frowned

The sighs and heavy breaths

At the end came with a sense of relief.

He finished, folded his brief and looked around.

The haughty one stood and walked out,

The downcast woman in the washed out dress

Slunk out trying not to be noticed.

The gold-digger burst into tears,

The middle-aged couple mumbled to each other

A young girl and boy sat stunned.

The bald man in the polo shirt

Looked around, noted who had left

Stood and gathered his papers

‘We all have a week,’ he announced,

The others nodded in agreement

Serious conversations were to take place

Feet that earlier shuffled under the table

Stomped their way out or skipped in excitement

The boy and girl padded their way home.

He took her hand, she felt happy with him.

‘A week,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said wondering why their lives had to change.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/09/20/writing-prompt-123-noend-house-part-5%E2%80%B3-2/