The next day, I decided to face it head-on. I drove back to Albany, to the family home. Pulling up, I saw Megan’s Lexus in the driveway, gleaming like a trophy. When I stepped inside, both of them were waiting in the dining room. Mom sat stiff-backed at the head of the table, Megan lounging beside her with a glass of white wine, confidence dripping from every movement.
“Hannah,” Mom said. “We need to talk.”
I dropped my keys on the counter.
“Funny. That’s exactly how Dad’s will meeting started. Can’t wait to hear how this one ends.”
Megan smirked.
“Still the sarcastic soldier. Dad spoiled you, leaving you that shack. You don’t have the faintest clue what it’s worth.”
“Oh, I have a pretty good idea,” I shot back.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Then you understand why it should be handled by someone with experience. I’ve already had Summit Realty draft potential buyers. The offers will be substantial.”
“You went behind my back to appraise my property?” I asked, my voice rising.
“Our property,” she corrected smoothly.
I slammed my hand on the table.
“No. Mine. Dad’s will was clear. He left the cabin and the land to me. End of story.”
Mom’s voice cut through, icy.
“Don’t raise your voice in my house.”