“Family?”
I repeated.
She tilted her head.
“Yes.
Family.
That’s what I’ve been trying to explain.”
Behind her, the gate continued its slow movement.
Metal wheels rolled along the track with a deep mechanical hum.
“Then perhaps,” I said, “you should have remembered that before you told me to pack my bags.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Jared is going to hear about this.”
“I’m sure he will.”
The two iron panels met with a heavy metallic click.
For the first time in thirty-six years, I was standing on property that belonged entirely to me, and nobody could order me to leave it.
I thought that was the end of the story.
I was wrong.
Because my late husband, Thomas, hadn’t merely left me a beautiful mountain home.
He had left me a warning.
And the people standing outside my gate were willing to do things far worse than humiliate an old woman to get what was hidden behind it.
