“We assumed you’d sell the farm,” Michael said, glancing around at the artwork with an expression that bordered on contempt. “Didn’t think you’d be interested in this place.”

“I was curious,” I said, lifting my chin slightly. “Joshua wanted me to see it first.”

Michael’s eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite read. Was it resentment? Regret? “This place was important to him,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “Important to all of us.”

I braced myself. There had always been a distance between Joshua and his family, a chasm filled with unspoken grievances and hidden hurts. I suspected the farm was at the heart of it. I wanted to ask, to understand, but the tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that clawed at my composure.