After Grandma’s death, I expected her farm to be mine, but it went to my cousin, Ava, who only saw profit. I got a cryptic letter and a chance to stay. Grandma’s hidden plan revealed a truth that changed my life. In the lawyer’s office, my heart broke as Ava was named the farm’s owner. I’d worked tirelessly with Grandma, while Ava used it for social media. “You okay, Rachel?” the lawyer asked, handing me a letter. Grandma’s words stirred me: “Dear Rachel, this farm is your heart, as it was mine. I left it to Ava, but you can stay as long as you wish. If you do, it can’t be sold. More in three months. Love, Grandma.” Why not me? I wondered. Ava’s excited talk with her husband, Dan, about selling it pushed me to act.
“Take the payout, Rachel,” Ava said later. “Get a city condo.” I shook my head. “This is home, Ava. It’s family.” She rolled her eyes, uninterested. That night, memories of Grandma’s laughter filled me. I quit my city job and moved to the farm. Ava gave me the keys, glad to avoid chores. Days were tough—feeding animals, fixing gates. “Hey, Rosie,” I’d say to a cow, her nudge a boost. Neighbor Paul helped often. “Fence trouble?” he’d ask. “It’s my enemy,” I joked. He taught me tricks, saying, “Grandma said fences keep farms strong.” I sighed. “She forgot the exhaustion part.” He smiled. “You love this place, Rachel. That’s enough.”
One evening, smoke hit me. The farmhouse was burning. “No!” I screamed, running. Neighbors arrived, but the fire raged. Paul held me back. “Animals are safe,” he said. I watched, devastated, as it collapsed. Ava came, shrugging. “Sell it, Rachel. It’s worthless.” I stood firm. “The farm’s still here. I’m not leaving.” She scoffed. “You’re jobless, in a barn.” I said, “I’ll figure it out.” She left, smug. I called my boss, begging for time, but he said, “Monday or you’re fired.” I couldn’t, and he hung up. Paul approached. “You’re tough, Rachel. Stay at my place for now.” His kindness saved me.
Weeks of labor followed—rebuilding, planting, tending animals. They became my family, and Paul’s support was everything. “This fence again?” he’d tease, helping. One night, he said, “Grandma’s proud, Rachel.” I nodded, seeing her test. She wanted a true caretaker. At the will’s second reading, Ava sat smugly. The lawyer read: “The farm goes to its guardian. Rachel’s earned it.” Ava yelled, “She burned it!” Paul showed a gas receipt. “Ava was there.” She confessed, wanting me gone. The lawyer said, “Rachel, it’s yours.”
I embraced the farm, feeling Grandma’s spirit. One evening, Paul smiled. “Dinner soon?” I grinned. “I’m in.” As we planned, hope grew. The farm was my everything, and with Paul, my future sparkled. Grandma’s plan showed me my resilience and gave me a home to love.
