Page 179 of Taken Away

Chloe lifted her pen. “And on the PR front, I’ve been fielding emails from bloggers and a couple of regional outlets. Everyone wants to turn us into a true-crime podcast.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m drafting a statement—basic, respectful, nothing salacious. If we say nothing, they make it up.”

“Send it to me before it goes,” Aubrey said.

Chloe nodded. “Will do.”

For a moment, the room hummed with logistics. Shipping schedules. Reorders. A brief, heated debate between Lockwood and Zack about whether to move a bottling date.

Then Red cleared his throat.

The sound cut through the chatter like a blade.

Every head turned.

Red shifted his hat between his hands, the brim creaking. “What about the will?” he asked bluntly. “About the land.”

Silence dropped.

Aubrey’s pulse lurched.

Bennett’s jaw tightened. “Eleanor’s still working through probate,” he said. “Nothing changes for operations day to day until the court signs off.”

“That when the city people come in?” one of the field workers muttered. “Carve it up? Turn it into cabins?”

“No,” Aubrey said.

The word came out steadier than she felt.

Every face turned toward her now.

She stood slowly, palms flat on the table to keep them from shaking.

“I spent yesterday in Eleanor Harper's office and the day before that in Mabel's. I’ve seen the will. I know what she wanted.” She swallowed, forcing her voice not to crack. “Blackwood isn’t getting carved up and sold to the highest bidder. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Red’s eyes narrowed. “And do you?”

Aubrey met his gaze.

“Yes,” she said. “I do.”

Silence.

Then Walter pushed his chair back, the legs scraping softly on the floor.

“Well, then,” he said, folding his hands over his binder. His voice was mild, but his eyes were bright. “I’d say that settles that for now.”

Lockwood lifted his brows, clearly impressed.

Savannah’s mouth curved into a small, relieved smile.

Chloe scribbled something on her pad that looked suspiciously like a tagline.

Red studied Aubrey for another long second.

Finally, he gave a short, reluctant nod.

“Long as those cows stay on the pasture side of the road and you don’t put a yoga retreat on my north fence,” he muttered, “I’ll keep fixing the fences.”

A few laughs broke out.