“About that, Mom,” Brandon said, setting down his whiskey glass with a precision that reminded me of his father. “Melissa and I have been talking, and we think it’s best if we settle things quickly. We both need to get back.”
“Settle things?” I asked.
“The estate,” Melissa clarified, scrolling through her phone. “The house, the business. Brandon and I need to figure out the next steps.”
I’d expected grief from my children—maybe some reminiscing about their father. What I got instead was a boardroom meeting. Brandon opened his laptop on the dining table where we’d celebrated birthdays, graduations, and departures.
“Dad spoke to me about this last year,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “He was worried about you managing a loan. The business needs modernization, investment. The house is too much for someone your age.”
“My age,” I repeated, the words tasting bitter. “I’ve managed this orchard alongside your father for forty years.”
