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.

No hello. No question about whether I was all right. Just the quick, controlled wording of someone who had already accepted another version of the story before hearing mine.

I read it twice and slid the phone back into my coat pocket without answering.

By the time I came down the hall, locked the studio, and crossed the great room, the front door had opened. Ellis stood just inside, weathered face unreadable, while Jenna entered ahead of the brothers as if her daughter’s privilege covered them all. It was not until Robert stepped over the threshold that the shift in the room became complete. Whatever this house had been a moment earlier, sanctuary, secret, message, legacy, it was now also contested ground.

“Mom,” Jenna said.

She came toward me and hugged me briefly, almost dutifully, then stepped back to take in the room with an expression halfway between awe and accusation. “This place is unbelievable.”

“It is,” I said.

“Why didn’t Dad ever tell us?”

Before I could answer, Robert moved in with perfect timing, his voice smooth as polished wood.

“Catherine, I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday.”