Libby scooted up in her seat, pulling her seatbelt with her. “I don’t graduate high school for four years. Can we keep her until then?”
“Boarding horses is expensive,” her mother said.
Libby’s shoulders fell in dramatic disappointment. “But you said that once you inherited the ranch, you’d have enough to pay off your debts with plenty left over.”
Kate took hold of her sister’s elbow, motioning for her to sit back in her seat. “It’s disrespectful to talk about spending Grandpa’s money right after his funeral.”
Libby returned to her seat with a thud. “I’m not being disrespectful. Having grandpa’s horse would help me remember him.” Her bottom lip quavered. “He loved Marigold, so every time I rode her I’d think of him.”
Kate immediately regretted snapping at her sister. “Sorry, Libs. That’s a sweet thought. I wish we could keep her.”
Libby didn’t reply. Apparently, she’d decided to sulk about her horselessness.
“I’m glad you want to remember Grandpa,” their father said, “but we won’t actually see any money until we develop the land. Until then, we need to put away what we can in your college fund.”
Libby sighed, still dramatic. “How expensive is college?”
Their father adjusted the sun visor. “Expensive enough that we’re still paying off your sister’s degree.”
That’s where the bulk of her parents’ debts had come from. Kate’s tuition. During her senior year of high school, they’d found her wistfully flipping through brochures for New York School of Interior Design. They’d encouraged her to apply, despite the fifty-three-thousand-dollar yearly tuition. When Kate protested that her meager savings wouldn’t cover the rent in New York, let alone that sort of tuition, they’d told her that they believed in her talent and thought she should learn from the best. They’d agreed to pay for it all.
Kate planned on paying them back once she had her own design business. She wanted to prove to them and to herself that their faith in her had been well spent.
Mother turned in her seat to better see Libby. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find something else of Grandpa’s to help you remember him. Something that’s not alive.”
Libby shrugged. “Maybe.”
Kate only wanted a few things of her grandmother’s: one of the quilts she’d helped make, the red mixing bowls that brought back memories of baking cookies, and maybe a few books. Not things likely to be mentioned in the will.
The lawyer’s office was in the newer area of town—a brick building with arched windows and colonial posts that tried for an air of stateliness. The family went inside, and the receptionist showed them into a room with a long cherrywood table large enough for a dozen people. Only Landon sat there. He still wore his suit and looked as at home in it as any businessman. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was part of the law firm.
“Mr. Wagner will be with you in a minute,” the receptionist said and left the room. Her heels clicked off down the hallway.
Kate and her family sat across the table from Landon and silently waited. Libby scrolled through her social media. The girl couldn’t be away from it for long.
Their father leaned toward Landon. “Kate told us about your offer to purchase Coyote Glen. I wish we could help you with your water situation, but I talked to my brother-in-law, and he doesn’t seem to think there’s anything we can do. A golf course needs a lot of watering.”
A muscle twitched in Landon’s cheek, revealing his annoyance. “You know Cal wouldn’t want his home turned into a golf course. Don’t his wishes count for anything?”
Kate felt a twinge of guilt. Her grandfatherwouldhave hated the idea of a golf course. If her parents felt any of that same guilt, they didn’t show it. Her mother sent Landon a tolerant smile. “We need to do what’s best for our family. I’m sure you understand that.”
“I do understand,” Landon said. “How much will it take to buy Coyote Glen? If this is just about money, you must have a price. What is it?”
Her father let out a slow breath. “I could get back to you with a figure, but I guarantee you won’t like it.”
The door opened, and a tall elderly man with graying hair walked into the room carrying a stack of paper. “I’m Miles Wagner, Calvin’s lawyer and executor of his will. Glad to meet you folks. Wish it were under better circumstances.”
He sat down, still offering condolences, and passed out copies of the will—one for everyone but Libby. She was only here because driving back to the ranch to drop her off would have taken too much time.
Mr. Wagner finished with the papers. “Wills are written in a legal language that’s long and sometimes difficult to understand, so I’ll just give you the basics. After Calvin’s wife died, he changed his will. I’m assuming he told you of the changes?”
“No.” A hint of wariness entered her father’s tone. “Dad never mentioned that.”
“Oh.” Mr. Wagner drew out the word. He shifted in his chair, but when he spoke again it was with the same calm professionalism. “Well, the basics are that your father put his money, home, and all ranch assets into a trust which I’m to oversee for a year. He left a modest stock portfolio, the household items, and his personal effects to you.”
Her father held up a hand to stop the lawyer. “Wait, what was that about the trust?”
Mr. Wagner flipped through a few pages of his copy of the will. “The land, cattle, home, and ranch equipment were left to Kate with the provision that in order to inherit them, she must live on the ranch and keep it profitable for a year’s time.”