My husband had spent years warning me never to set foot on that farm. So after he passed away and the lawyer handed me the key, saying that from now on the place belonged to me, I was ready to sell it right away and put everything behind me. But before making my final decision, I still wanted to see it once for myself. When the door opened, I finally understood why, all those years, he had never wanted me to set foot there.

He had Joshua’s height, and some of his bone structure, though life had sharpened him where my husband had softened. At close range, the resemblance was almost painful. The same dark eyes. The same broad brow. But where Joshua’s face had always opened before it judged, Robert’s seemed built from calculation outward.

“We were surprised by your sudden appearance,” he went on, “just as you were surprised by ours.”

Jenna nodded as if this were balanced, as if everyone here had been caught equally off guard by circumstance rather than by a dead man’s final strategy colliding with greed.

“Jenna,” I said, keeping my eyes on my daughter, “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t involve yourself with these men until we had a chance to talk.”

She flushed, but only slightly. “They called this morning with a proposal. I thought I should at least hear them out. They’re family.”

Family.

The word hit harder than it should have. Perhaps because grief makes you territorial. Perhaps because I had spent twenty-seven years helping build her understanding of what family meant, and in the span of twenty-four hours three men with excellent coats and no moral center had begun rewriting the definition.

“Family you didn’t know existed until yesterday,” I said.

“That wasn’t my fault,” she snapped.

“No,” I agreed quietly. “It wasn’t.”

Allan stepped forward then, portfolio in hand, smile trimmed to professional sympathy. “Perhaps we should all sit. Emotions are understandably high.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable standing,” I said.

A flicker, brief but real, crossed his face. Men like Allan preferred conversation arranged physically to their advantage. Seated people looked managed. A woman standing in her own house with her daughter beside her and no intention of softening was less convenient.

Robert took over again.

“The farm has been in the Mitchell family for generations. Joshua repurchased it from our father, yes, but this was always meant to remain family property.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Because yesterday none of you seemed particularly interested in the family aspect until after oil entered the conversation.”

Jenna exhaled, exasperated. “Mom.”