Along one wall, a grandfather clock ticked with the solemnity of a cathedral. Opposite it, a painting of sunflowers erupted in colors so bold it demanded attention.
And then the mantel.
Centered above the stone hearth was a single framed photograph: a gap-toothed me, five years old, pressed against Aunt Penny’s side. She was laughing, head tilted back, her wild gray hair caught mid-swoop. In her arms sat a chicken wearing what appeared to be a velvet ribbon. My mother hovered, blurred in the background, mid-eye-roll.
The sight knocked the air out of me.
“Your aunt,” Mr. Browne said, following my gaze, “believed every home should contain a little mischief.”
I swallowed hard and managed a smile. Mischief was one word. Magic might be another. Penny was always full of surprises.
He gestured us toward the sitting room, where an antique tea set gleamed on the low coffee table. The cups were delicate China, each one painted with a different bird. Mine was a goldfinch, bright and cheery. Austin’s—a hawk, severe and steady, not unlike the man.
I lowered myself onto the sofa, notebook already sliding out of my tote. If Penny had left rules, I’d need to write them down for future reference.
“Before we begin,” Mr. Browne started, “Per Mrs. Thomas’s instructions, I have taken the liberty of distributing Penny’s things as directed in the will before your arrival. So, you’ll have a clean start.” He nodded in the direction of the house.
Mr. Browne unfolded a parchment-thick paper edged with Penny’s letterhead. Even from across the coffee table, I recognized the curling, dramatic sweep of her purple ink.
“Millicent Thomas,” he began, his voice alive with authority. Typical lawyer voice. “Your aunt leaves you her estate in full, contingent upon your agreement to certain terms.”
My pulse thudded in my ears. My hand shook slightly as I poised my pen, ready and waiting.
Austin glanced my way, then whispered, “You’ve got this.” His nod was a symbol of confidence.
“One,” Mr. Browne continued. “You, along with Mr. Adams, must reside in the main house for a minimum of one calendar year, without extended absence.”
I scribbledOne year.My pen trembled, though my face tried to stay calm.
“Two: you must make an earnest effort at daily ranch life and basic maintenance. Expertise is not required. Effort, however, is essential.”
I laughed nervously. “Does surviving pizza delivery count as maintenance?”
Mr. Browne’s eyes twinkled, though his voice stayed stately.
“Three: each month, you must complete at least one neighborly act or community event. For this, Sue Carter is your designated mentor.”
My pen scrawledneighborly act?underlined twice. Pie had to count. Surely pie counted.
“Four: you must attempt no fewer than three rural skills of your choice. Your aunt suggested fresh bread as an introduction.”
Purple ink winked from the page, bold as laughter. Penny’s rules weren’t punishment—they were invitations.
I blinked fast against the sting in my eyes. For a woman I’d barely known, she’d left instructions that read less like demands and more like suggestions to a daughter, not an estranged niece.
A flicker of movement drew my gaze to the window. A sleek tabby leapt onto the windowsill, tail curling around his paws, eyes green and curious. He studied me in silence; cats were so mysterious.
Mr. Browne followed my gaze. “Inspector,” he said with a small incline of his head. “He was her confidant. He chooses his company carefully. The goat outside, that would be Sherlock.”
Inspector blinked once, turned deliberately away, and lay in the light.
“He’ll come around,” I whispered. “I’m new.”
Across the table, Austin’s mouth curved into the faintest smile. A crack in his armor, small but startling, and I felt the warmth of it like a draft slipping under a door.
Mr. Browne cleared his throat.
“And five: Mr. Adams is to remain here with Dr. Thomas as financial planner and estate manager for the full calendar year.” He refolded the parchment with careful precision. “That concludes your portion, Dr. Thomas.” He turned to Austin. “Mr. Adams, if you’ll remain a moment, there are additional matters for your attention.”
