Hannah said.
“Just trying to be biologically correct,” Ethan returned.
“The term is politically correct.”
“Honey, when it comes to chickens the only politics is, the male rules the roost.”
“Until he gets henpecked.”
“Can we start?” Dan prompted, shooting his nephew a warning glance.
Ethan sat, resting his one booted foot across his knee, pushing the chair on its back two legs. Obviously the man felt at home.
Dan gave her a thoughtful look. “Before we start, however, I also want to extend my condolences on the death of your mother.”
His sympathies, though kind, caught her off guard. Though it had been only four months since she’d stood alone beside her mother’s grave, the sharpest edges of her sorrow had already been dulled.
“I’m sure you must miss her,” Dan continued.
“I do, though we hadn’t seen much of each other the past few years.”
Ethan looked puzzled. “But I thought—”
“I had assumed as much.” Dan cut Ethan off. “It had taken us some time to find where she had lived.” He uncovered a large envelope, which he placed on the desk in front of him, and folded his hands over the top.
“I feel I should make some kind of formal announcement. While this isn’t classified as an official reading of the will, Sam did ask that I read this bequest in this fashion.” Dan waited a moment, then picked up the envelope. “I have to warn both of you that I already know what this envelope contains. As executor of Sam’s will, I perused every item relating to his estate, including the letter accompanying the will.” He paused, his attention resting on Ethan. “I want you both to understand that the contents of the document I’m about to read to you are known only to Sam’s lawyer and me.”
Ethan nodded and Dan’s eyes went to Hannah. She didn’t know what was required of her, so she nodded, as well.
Dan gave her a gentle smile and Hannah’s curiosity grew.
What was in the envelope that necessitated her flying across the country to attend this meeting?
Dan opened the envelope and pulled out some papers.
“I’ll read Sam’s letter first.” He cleared his throat and began. “‘Dear Hannah. I’m going to start with you, because if you are here, you have come the farthest and probably have the most questions….’”
Hannah wrapped her arms across her chest, bracing herself as Dan’s even voice read Sam’s words, an eerie echo from the grave.
“‘…I’m sorry I never phoned you or explained why I left. I wanted to, but that’s all I’m going to say about that. I didn’t do right by you. I have had tons of time to sit and think and I keep thinking of how I just left you and your mom. So, this is a way to fix that mistake. Dan, I hope you can get hold of her and find her. And, Ethan, please, just be patient.’”
“What does he mean by that?” Ethan said.
“You’ll see,” Dan said without looking at his nephew. He took a careful sip of water from a glass sitting at his elbow, as if preparing for what he had to say. He read on.
“‘I thought a lot about what I’m going to tell you. I didn’t make this decision quick or easy. But this is the right thing to do. Hannah, I want you to have half of my farm…’”
“What?” The question exploded out of Ethan as his tilting chair slammed on the floor. “Read that again?”
Dan adjusted his glasses and sighed. This time he held his nephew’s angry gaze. “Please, Ethan. Just wait. This is difficult for me, as well, but please let me finish.”
Ethan glared at Dan, then leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Hannah tried to ignore his hostile body language as she collected her own confused thoughts. Half of a farm? What could that mean?
Dan pinched his nose, blew out his breath, and continued. “‘Hannah, this is all I can give you, to be fair to Ethan. But you get this half of the farm on one condition. You stay here in Riverbend for six months, and you stay on the farm. When six months is over, you can do what you want with your half. If you leave before the six months are up, you don’t get half.’” Dan glanced up at Hannah. “Do you understand what I just read?”
Though Hannah nodded, she struggled to process the concept. Half of some farm? If she stayed six months? In what twisted corner of Sam’s mind did he think he was doing her any favor with this?
Hannah’s salon plans didn’t include a six-month detour in this forgotten corner of the world with people who wouldn’t acknowledge her presence in Sam’s life.
She chanced a quick look at the man beside her.
Ethan rocked in his chair, as well, his mouth set in hard lines, his face angry. Not difficult to see he didn’t like the idea, either.
Well, no worries there, Hannah thought, rubbing her forehead. She had only come to Riverbend because of Dan’s phone call and Lizzie thinking Hannah had something coming to her from Sam.
And it appeared she had. Half of a farm. She wondered what Lizzie would say to that.
“There is more,” Dan said. “He says, ‘Hannah, if you don’t want to stay, you lose your half of the farm. I know this comes out of the blue, but I’ve had time to think while I’m lying here in this hospital. I know I’m dying and I want to fix what I should have fixed long ago. Hannah, I’m sorry. Forgive me. I want to make things right. If you stay, in six months Dan will have another meeting with you. I want you to know I thought of you lots and always loved you.’ And that’s the end of what he has to say to you.” Dan paused a moment as if to give Hannah a chance to absorb the words.
Hannah knew it was going to take more than a few moments to get this all straight in her mind.
Dan glanced at his nephew. “Sam had something to say to you, as well.”
“I’m sure he did,” Ethan said, his voice a growl.
“I’ll read that now. ‘Ethan, I hope you understand that I had to do this. I’m sorry for you, as well. You were always going to get the farm like I promised and if Hannah leaves, it’s all yours. You’ve been a big help to me. I couldn’t have run the farm without you. You are the only Westerveld who loved the farm like your grandfather did. I want you to know I love you. I’m sorry if this doesn’t seem fair to you, but I want you to know I have to do right by Hannah. Because I didn’t years ago. You’ve been a great partner and you’re a wonderful and loving nephew. I hope you understand. With love, Sam.’” In the ensuing silence, Dan looked at the letter he still held in his hand, as if trying to digest this information once again. Then he slowly folded it up and inserted it back in the envelope. “And that ends the letter.”
Ethan got up, walked to the bookshelf, then turned to his uncle. “I’m trying to understand this, Dan, but I can’t. Grandpa Westerveld was working me into the farm. Then, when Sam finally came back, I started working with him. I’ve put years of my life into that place. I put money into it—” He stopped there, glanced at Hannah, then continued. “Uncle Sam showed me a copy of his will in the hospital. It never said anything about this.”
Hannah felt a moment’s compassion at the hurt she heard under Ethan’s bluster.
“And now, out of the blue he’s giving half to…to—” he waved his hand toward Hannah as if she were some piece of detritus clinging to his shiny boots “—her.”
“Sam changed the will just before he died. And her name is Hannah,” Dan chided.
Ethan ignored Dan’s reprimand and leaned back against the shelves. “And what am I supposed to do with a partner who knows zip about farming? Who probably doesn’t