“This furniture is outdated.”
“Nobody wants dark wood anymore.”
“The barn smell alone will scare off buyers.”
Buyers.
That word hit me like ice water.
When I confronted her about it, she just smiled.
“Let’s be realistic. This land is valuable now. There’s lake access nearby. Developers would fight over it.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“This is our home,” I said.
“It was my father’s home,” she replied calmly.
The night before the funeral, she cornered me in the kitchen while I was washing dishes.
“You should start packing,” she said.
I stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“You have three days,” she said lightly. “I already have a developer lined up. Construction starts next week.”
Three days.
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