He had hired local craftsmen instead of bringing in expensive contractors from the city.
He had insisted on preserving the original stone chimney.
He had planted young apple trees behind the house.
He had personally selected every bookcase and every window.
“Even when he got sick,” Miriam said, “he’d sit out on the porch wrapped in a blanket and give the builders instructions.”
My throat tightened.
“He told me he was coming here to rest.”
“He did rest.
Sometimes.”
She looked at me carefully.
“But there was something else.”
“What?”
Miriam set down her mug.
“Your husband was worried about people trying to buy the ridge.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
“Developers.
They started asking questions about the land a while back.”
“What land?”
She gave me a strange look.
“All of it.”
I blinked.
“Miriam, this is just the cabin and its yard.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Oh, honey.”
She stood and walked to the big window.
