“Okay.”
I nod, but my mind is made up. It’s not like I’m keeping it. I live in New York City. I have a job, a life. I’m up for a promotion. There’s no way I’m uprooting myself to run an orchard.
But why me? Why did she pick me? She knew how greedy my family was. How did she know I wouldn’t be just like them?
I take a deep breath and brace myself to face my parents. I know they’ll have a million questions. All I want is a stiff drink.
As I step outside, my parents nearly pounce.
“You’re not really thinking of running that orchard, are you?” my mother snaps. Her tone makes it sound like an accusation.
“I’m… not sure,” I admit. “It either stays with me, or it’s sold. It’s complicated.”
“She kept my name off the deed, didn’t she?” my mother asks, her face falling when I don’t answer right away.
“She did. She wanted it kept in the family, but she thought I’d be the one to honor that.”
“Are you kidding me?! I’ve been telling her for years—we could’ve made a real profit. Why wouldn’t she want me to handle it?”
“I don’t know.” I nod anyway. It’s easier than arguing.
“You do know she has a bunch of people living on the property, right?”
“Yes. I told the lawyer I’d go up there and get a better sense of everything first.”
“And what, you’ll just forget about your family?”
“Aunt Blake was my family,” I shoot back. “And people relied on her. I’m not throwing them out. I don’t want them homeless and jobless.”
My mother exhales sharply. “Well, I can’t argue with that,” she says finally, turning toward my father.
The rest of my relatives, who were standing close enough to overhear, file out as well. I watch them go, shaking my head. They already got their money. It’s never enough for them. If they can’t have everything, they’re not happy. Meanwhile, everything they have has been handed to them on a silver platter.
FOUR
Tilly
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I storm out of the office and head home in my truck. I cannot fathom facing anyone else right now.
How the hell could she do that to me? Benny had been like a second mother to me. Truthfully, abettermother than the one I had. Kicking me out at seventeen after finding me with a girl in my bed was enough to send me running for the hills. Benny had taken me in, and I’d worked for her ever since. I always thought the farm would eventually be mine, and I’d run it. She’d always alluded to that, so when she got sick, I never thought twice about taking care of her. She didn’t tell her family, and they weren’t interested in much besides a piece of her inheritance.
Why the fuck would she leave it to her? You’ve got to be kidding me. In all the years I’ve worked there, I hadn’t seen this woman once. So it wasn’t like they were close or anything. If anything, the woman seemed just as surprised. Had I known her last name last night, I never would’ve hooked up with her. I thought she was just a random ass tourist stopping on her way back down from the city. Why did I go along with her idea to not exchange names?
I storm into the house the second I’m back on the property. I can’t even saymyhouse anymore, because everything is up in the air. We’ll probably only have thirty days or less to vacate the premises. Sighing, I start piling things into a random box. I’m not sure where I’ll go, but it’s clear…I need to leave. I need to go somewhere else. I really don’t want to be here when the new owners arrive. Most of my friends are on the property, too, so it isn’t like I can ask to stay with them.
“Tills? Are you here?” My best friend, Hattie comes up the stairs.
“I’m here,” I call back from my bedroom.
“What’s going on?” She looks around the messy room in confusion.
“Why aren’t you at the funeral?” I ask, ignoring her question.
“Well, it was mostly over, and Ollie was a bit overwhelmed by all the people. He’s in the backyard running around with the chickens.” Hattie smiles.
I glance out the window and see her six-year-old running around with the chickens. He’s making chicken sounds and holding his arms up like wings. It’s arguably adorable.
“Benny left the house to some distant relative.” I sigh, plopping on the bed.
