Here it comes.
Fern had left the farm—all one hundred and twenty acres, the house, the outbuildings, the lakeshore frontage, and every animal on the property—to Makayla.
Not to Tessa. To Makayla.
Her daughter looked at her in confusion tinged by fear.
“It’s fine, sweetheart. Granny Fern loved you very much and this is her saying so in her will.”
Lincoln resumed reading. “I hereby appoint my daughter-in-law, Tessa Lawrence conservator of my farm in its entirety, including all my animals, my house and all its contents, and all my other possessions at the farm. She shall care for them and hold them in trust for her daughter until Makayla turns eighteen years old, at which time, Makayla may dispose of any or all of it however she sees fit.”
Tessa blinked, stunned. She couldn’t sell the farm for seven years? Surely there was a way around that. There had to be. She had no idea what that workaround might be, but that was what lawyers were for.
Lincoln cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Ms. Lawrence placed several conditions on the disposition of her estate.” He glanced up at Tessa with an expression approaching dread. “Are you ready for the rest?”
“No. But let’s just get through this, shall we?”
This was the moment she’d been dreading. She knew the woman well enough to know that willing the farm to Makayla was just Fern’s opening salvo.
“Here we go,” Lincoln said almost more to himself than to her. “Tessa and Makayla must take up residence on the farm no more than seventy-two-hours after the reading of my will ends. They must live on my farm continuously for the next three hundred and sixty-five days. During that period, Tessa may not sell, lease, or transfer any portion of the property. The animals—all of them—are to remain on the farm and receive proper veterinary care. At the end of one year, if all conditions are met, the property may be sold and the entire proceeds, minus the costs of closing the sale, placed into a trust for Makayla’s college education, accessible by Makayla on her 18th birthday.”
Lincoln looked up from the document and said in a normal speaking voice, “At Fern’s instruction, I’ve already established an educational trust fund for your daughter. Upon Fern’s death, the contents of her saving account were automatically transferred into it. The current balance is $27,683. At the moment, that money is invested in a savings bond. You’re the designated trustee for the fund, Mrs. Lawrence, and I’ll be happy to discuss ways you might invest that money going forward to maximize its growth before the trust fund matures.”
She nodded absently, her thoughts spinning. Live on the farm? For whole year? On. The. Farm.
She gave herself a mental shake and asked dryly, “Am I correct that Fern stipulated what would happen if the conditions of her will are not met?”
“You are.” Lincoln’s mouth curved into a small smile of recognition that she’d clearly known her mother-in-law well.
“Lay it on me,” she said in resignation.
He looked down and continued reading, “If these conditions are not met—if Tessa refuses this inheritance altogether or fails to complete one full year of living on the farm—the property shall be sold immediately and all proceeds donated to the Montana Wildlife Rescue Fund.”
The room was very quiet.
“So, Makayla will get nothing if I don’t do what Fern wants,” Tessa said flatly.
“Correct,” Lincoln answered succinctly.
She appreciated him not trying to sugar coat this disaster.
“And what’s the approximate market value of Fern’s farm?” she asked.
“If it were to be sold to a commercial developer, who would be the most likely buyer, given its prime lakefront location directly across the lake from Apple Pie Creek, comparable recent sales place the value of the property at ten-million dollars, give or take a million or so.”
Mkayla and Arlo gasped.
Tessa just blinked. She’d heard numbers much bigger than that before. After all, her father was a successful real estate developer in one of the most expensive real estate markets on earth. But she’d walked away from that world over a decade ago, and her mother had gone to great pains to make it clear that Tessa was financially cut off. Completely. She never dreamed she’d hear a number like that again.
Makayla, who had been sitting perfectly still with her hands folded in her lap the way Tessa had taught her, whispered, “Grandma Fern was rich?”
“Yes,” Lincoln said gently. “She was.”
Tessa stared at the lawyer. Three hundred and sixty-five days. A full year. Living on a farm she knew nothing about, taking care of animals she couldn’t identify, in a house full of memories of a woman who’d spent a decade criticizing everything about her. And at the end of it, Makayla’s future would be secured. Her daughter could go anywhere she wanted to, do anything she wanted to, with her life.
You conniving, impossible, brilliant old woman.
Tessa saw exactly what Fern had done. This wasn’t spite. This was chess. Fern had known Tessa would never willingly move to the farm. She’d also known Tessa would never let Makayla’s inheritance—her chance at a limitless future—go to a wildlife fund. Fern had boxed her in with love and legal paperwork, the two most inescapable forces in the known universe.
