That morning, I dressed in the clothes Lucille had lent me—a pair of jeans and a sweater that fit me well enough—and prepared for battle. At 9:00 a.m. precisely, when the land registry office opened, I presented the documents certifying my ownership of the former twenty-acre parcel, which included the main house, the barn, and, most importantly, the water access any developer would need.
At 10:00 a.m., I met with the land commission to discuss the conservation easements Nicholas and I had quietly negotiated years ago—restrictions that would make development nearly impossible, even if Brandon somehow managed to sell.
At midday, I sat down with Sophia in the Milfield Gazette newsroom to provide her with the necessary documentation for an article titled “Local orchard at centre of inheritance dispute; developer’s plans threaten protected agricultural area.”
At 2pm my phone started ringing again.
He wasn’t scared. He didn’t turn around.
“I know there must be more,” she said. “Dad wouldn’t have left you everything.”
“Your father trusted me,” I replied. “Something you apparently never learned to do.”
At that point he turned around. His face was twisted with an expression somewhere between anger and despair.
“You’ve destroyed everything,” he said. “The deal is off. Melissa’s creditors are calling. My law firm is investigating why I took so much time off without explanation.”
“Actions have consequences,” I said simply.
“Is this what this is?” he asked peremptorily. “A lesson?”
He laughed bitterly.
“I’ve always been a teacher, even now.”
“Not a lesson,” I corrected. “Justice.”
