I thought the farm would be mine after Grandma passed away. But to my surprise, she left it to my cousin Felicity, who only saw dollar signs. I received a cryptic letter and the right to stay on the farm for now. But Grandma’s plan was more than just a simple inheritance.
The lawyer’s voice trembled as he read the will. I felt a heavy weight on my chest. Felicity, who rarely visited, was now the farm’s owner. I, on the other hand, had spent countless mornings helping Grandma with the animals and plants.
“Are you okay, Diana?” the lawyer asked gently. I nodded, taking the letter from him. Grandma’s handwriting danced before my eyes:
“My dearest Diana, if you’re reading this, it’s time for a choice. I’ve left the farm to Felicity, but you’ve been granted the right to live here. As long as you stay, the farm can’t be sold. Be patient, my dear. The second part of my will will be revealed in three months.”
I was confused. Why didn’t she leave the farm to me? I glanced at Felicity, who was already discussing selling the farm with her husband. They saw it as nothing more than a business opportunity. I knew I had to fight for the farm, for Grandma’s legacy.
That night, I lay awake, memories of the farm swirling in my mind. I decided to take a leave of absence from my city job and care for the farm. Felicity handed me the keys with a smirk, eager to leave the responsibilities behind.
The days that followed were a whirlwind of chores. I rose before dawn, fed the animals, and fixed fences. Mr. Harris, a kind neighbor, helped me with the tasks. He taught me how to care for the land and the animals. The farm became my world, filling the void left by my job and city life.
But just as I was getting into a routine, disaster struck. A fire ravaged the farmhouse, leaving nothing but ashes. Felicity saw it as an opportunity to sell, but I refused to give up. I knew the farm was more than just land; it was my home.
The weeks that followed were tough. I worked tirelessly to rebuild the farm, and Mr. Harris was always there to lend a hand. Finally, the day came for the second part of the will to be read. Felicity and I walked into the lawyer’s office, both of us anxious.
The lawyer read the letter, revealing Grandma’s true intentions. The farm was meant for the one who truly cared for it. Felicity’s face turned pale as evidence of her sabotage came to light. She had set the fire, desperate to sell the farm.
In the end, justice prevailed. The farm was officially mine, and I could finally care for it as Grandma had wanted. I settled into my role, feeling closer to her than ever. The farm was my past, present, and future, and I was determined to make it thrive.
