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In front of us, looking identical to the photos I’d seen online, sat the main residence. “It is,” I said, cutting the engine and putting my hand on hers when I saw her eyes fill with tears.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.
I agreed. The wood-plank siding of the farmhouse was painted white, and black shutters framed each of the windows. Along the front and side was a wraparound porch. A green standing-seam metal roof looked as though it had recently been redone. While there was nothing on the porch besides one bench, I could envision it with multiple sitting areas, hanging and potted plants, and Wanda stretched out, lying in the sun.
“Would you like to walk around?”
“Can we?”
“I don’t see why not.” I retrieved the notes I’d made from my pocket. “The estate is comprised of six hundred and fifty acres of land. Fifty are utilized for residences, barns, and other outbuildings, including the winery. Four hundred, or one hundred and sixty hectares, are dedicated to the vineyards. The remaining two hundred acres are woods and trails. And, this especially intrigued me, there is a two-acre stream-fed pond with its own private island, waterfalls, and over a mile of stacked-stone walls.”
“What are stacked-stone walls?” she asked.
I looked around until I saw an opening in the trees. “There,” I pointed. “It’s the low wall that surrounds the property.”
“A mile?”
I nodded and cleared my throat. “While that is impressive, I was far more taken with the pond and waterfalls.”
Sam motioned to the bench on the porch. “I need to sit down.”
I put my arm around her shoulders as we walked over to the steps leading to the front door of the house. “We could peek in the windows.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s already too much.”
I sat beside her. “Take a deep breath to the count of five, then let it out to the same count. If necessary, repeat.”
Whoever chose the location for the house had done a remarkable job. Not only were the vineyards, wooded areas, and pond visible from where we sat, but the view extended for miles, looking out over rolling hills.
I glanced at Sam to comment and saw she had her hands covering her face. Circling her wrist with my fingers, I pulled one of her hands away. “It’s simply beautiful, darling.” If Sam noticed my slip, using the term of endearment, she didn’t let on she had. In fact, I wondered if she’d heard me at all.
“It’s too much,” she repeated.
“I’ll admit it will take some getting used to.”
Sam shook her head. “No. I can’t do this, Beau.”
“As you said previously. However, as I said, perhaps if you let it sink in, you’ll—”
Sam got up, then raced down the porch steps and over to the car. “Take me back to the hotel.”
While she’d jokingly made demands, I never heard her issue one as she just had. She was always polite to a fault.
I joined her near the passenger door and opened it, deciding not to push further on her accepting the apparent windfall. Perhaps tomorrow she’d be more open to the idea that, by all accounts, she was about to become a relatively wealthy woman.
“I want to go home,” she said before we reached the inn.
“Samantha—”
“This is my decision, not yours. Besides, I’m sure there’s been a mistake.”
“Are you willing to meet with the attorney handling the estate Monday morning?”
Sam looked away from me and out the window without responding.
“If you still feel this way after the meeting, we’ll pack the SUV and embark on our return trip.”
“Okay,” she whispered, brushing away a tear. “How would I even take care of a place like the Lilacs?”
