At 10:00 a.m., I met with the agricultural board about conservation easements Nicholas and I had quietly put in place years ago—restrictions that would make development nearly impossible, even if Brandon somehow managed to sell.
At noon, I sat with Sophia in the Milfield Gazette office, providing documentation for a story headlined, “Local Orchard at Center of Inheritance Dispute; Developer Plans Threaten Protected Agricultural Land.”
By 2:00 p.m., my phone was ringing again.
“The offer’s off the table,” I said by way of greeting.
“Mom, you’re making a terrible mistake,” Brandon’s voice had lost its edge of superiority, replaced by something closer to panic. “The developer’s lawyers are threatening to sue if we can’t deliver as promised.”
“That sounds like your problem,” I said.
“Our problem,” Melissa broke in. “Mom, please. I used the advance to pay off some debts. If this falls through, I’ll be ruined.”
