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.

“Interesting,” I said. “Because yesterday none of you seemed particularly interested in the family aspect until after oil entered the conversation.”

Jenna exhaled, exasperated. “Mom.”

Robert raised a hand as if magnanimity were his to dispense. “No, that’s a fair concern. We should be honest. The mineral rights do complicate matters. But they also create opportunity. Our position is simple. Rather than dragging this through court, we can settle now in a way that benefits everyone.”

Allan opened the portfolio and withdrew a set of documents already tabbed for presentation. Of course he had. Men like him never came to a room without paper designed to make surrender look elegant.

“We’re prepared to offer a generous division,” he said. “One-third to you, Catherine. One-third to Jenna. One-third among the brothers. Everyone exits with security. No prolonged litigation, no ugly publicity, no stress.”

My daughter looked at me expectantly, as if this were common sense and my refusal would be stubbornness rather than self-preservation.

It was such a neat, reasonable theft I almost admired its construction.

“And the western acreage?” I asked.

Allan blinked. “What about it?”