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.

“They’re asking to speak with you,” he said. “Saying it’s personal.”

“Of course it is,” I murmured.

I called Maren. Then Jenna. Then pinned to my sweater a small digital recorder Joshua had left in the master bedroom safe, disguised as an antique brooch. If the brothers wanted another conversation, I intended to keep it.

When they entered, the difference in Robert was visible at once.

He looked older than when I had last seen him. Not dramatically, not theatrically, but with that unmistakable leaching that serious illness performs on a face. The skin under his eyes had gray shadows. His posture, still upright through pride, had lost some of its ease. Allan stayed close to him in a way that suggested concern more than strategy this time. David looked strained. The two strangers were introduced as Dr. Harmon, a cardiologist, and Mr. Pearson, Robert’s personal attorney.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Robert said.

His voice had changed too. Not weaker exactly. Less armored.

“Sit,” I said.

Ellis served coffee and withdrew.

Robert did not circle the matter long.

“I’ve been diagnosed with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy,” he said. “The same condition Joshua had.”

The room held still around the sentence.