Back at the hotel, the hallway was blissfully empty. No curious locals. No Mrs. Fraser waiting with a knowing smile. Just the quiet creak of the old staircase and the smell of pine polish. I changed into warmer clothes, a thick jumper, darker coat, scarf tucked neatly at my neck then picked up my phone before I could second-guess myself.
Claire answered on the second ring. “Oliver? I was just about to call you with your itinerary for?—”
“Don’t book the flight,” I said gently.
A pause. “I… I’m sorry? Your flight for tomorrow morning?”
“Cancel it.”
“Sir, with respect, your family?—”
“Let me deal with my family,” I said, softer this time. “I’m staying a little longer. There’s more here I need to sort out, and I’ll arrange my own flight when I’m ready.”
Claire wasn’t one to pry, but even she sounded hesitant. “Oliver… this is not like you.”
“I know.”
Another beat.
“All right,” she said finally. “I’ll cancel it. Just keep me posted on what you’d like to do next.”
“Thank you, I will be in touch.”
I barely had time to set the phone down before it buzzed again, this time with a name that made my jaw tighten.Mara. Of course. I braced myself and answered.
“Oliver,” she snapped before I could speak, “why on earth am I hearing from Claire that you’ve cancelled your flight? Mum isupset. Christmas is nearly here. You said you’d be back well over two weeks ago!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Mara?—”
“And the uncle Jeff is furious,” she continued, her voice lowering in that pointed way she used when she didn’t want Mum to overhear. “He’s saying you’re dragging your feet. That you’re being emotional. That Grandad’s…” Her voice softened. “That Grandad’s passing has clearly affected you more than you’re letting on.”
Of course they’d blame sentimentality. Of course they wouldn’t understand.
“I’m not dragging my feet,” I said. “I’m making sure things are done properly.”
“You mean you’re not planning to sell.”
I didn’t respond.
“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You’re thinking about keeping the properties.”
“I’m thinking,” I corrected, “about doing the right thing. For the people here. For Grandad. For myself.”
“That’s not what the family wants.”
“I don’t care what the uncles want. This is what Grandad wanted, what he put me in charge to do.”
The silence that followed was long and heavy. Finally, she sighed. A tired, worn sound.
“Mum just wants you home for Christmas.”
“I’ll be there,” I promised. “But not tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Just… don’t do anything stupid. You know how this family gets when money’s involved.”
“I know.”
We hung up, and I stood there for a long moment, staring at the old wallpaper pattern opposite my room, listening to the radiator hum.