My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That is not fair, because she is under a lot of pressure while handling the estate.”
“She inherited a penthouse, Mom, so she isn’t exactly struggling,” I replied. My mother sighed and sat down in one of my kitchen chairs.
“You know what I mean, because she has responsibilities now,” she said. “That condo is an investment that she can manage for the future of this family.”
There was that word again. Family was being used as if it only applied to Skylar’s interests.
“And what about the cabin in the Ozarks?” I asked. My mother hesitated for a moment before she finally spoke.
“It is very out of the way and difficult to maintain,” she admitted. “Maybe it would make more sense if Skylar handled that property as well.”
“She has connections with real estate firms and could make it valuable,” she added. “You have your career in the military, so you don’t really need to worry about property.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “So, you are suggesting that I just hand over the one thing Dad left me?”
She folded her hands in her lap and avoided looking at me. “It would be much simpler for everyone if Skylar just treated it as a family asset.”
I shook my head slowly. “No, she thinks of it as her asset, and apparently you agree with her.”
My mother’s face hardened at my words. “Do not talk to me like that, Riley, because I am only trying to keep this family together.”
I stood up and kept my voice steady. “No, Mom, you are just trying to keep Skylar happy, and there is a very big difference between the two.”
She flinched as if I had slapped her. She picked up her purse and stood up to leave without another word.
“I won’t argue with you anymore,” she said as she walked toward the door. “Just please think about what I said.”
When the door closed, I sat down and realized my hands were shaking with anger. I had faced down corrupt officials and armed men, but nothing compared to being dismissed by my own mother.
The next week passed in a blur of training schedules and supply checks. The army has a way of swallowing your time, which left me very little room for personal battles.
However, the sting of that day didn’t fade away. Every night when the lights went out, I saw Skylar’s smug face and heard her voice calling me a stinking woman.
Then, one evening, I received a text message from her. “Just checking in, so how is life going in your little shack?”
I didn’t respond to her. I simply deleted the message and tossed my phone across the sofa.
A few days later, my mother called me again. This time, I decided to answer.
“Riley,” she said softly. “Skylar thinks it would be a good idea if you stayed at the cabin for a while to give everyone some space.”
I almost laughed out loud. “Space? She just wants me out of the way so she can do whatever she wants.”
“That is not true,” my mother insisted. “The cabin is legally yours, but Skylar feels like you are only holding onto it to spite her.”
My jaw tightened at that. “She insulted me and humiliated me in front of everyone, and now I am the problem because I won’t give her everything?”
Part 2 of 3
There was a long pause on the line. “I don’t want us to drift apart, so please just go see the cabin and clear your head.”
I wanted to hang up the phone, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. “Fine, I will go, but I am doing it for Dad and not for her.”
The line went silent for a second. “Thank you,” she whispered before she hung up.
I sat there staring at the blank screen of my phone. For Dad was the only reason I would even consider making the trip.
He had wanted me to have that land for a reason. Perhaps there was something about that place that none of us could see yet.
I packed a bag with enough gear and boots to last for several days. My training had taught me how to live with very little, so a cabin in the mountains didn’t intimidate me.
The drive into the Ozarks took several hours. The roads wound through thick forests and small towns that looked like they had been frozen in time.
With every mile I drove, the tension of Little Rock faded away. By the time I saw the first signs for the mountain pass, my anger had cooled into a strange sense of determination.
When I finally turned onto the dirt road leading to the property, my headlights caught the outline of a sagging roof. My heart tightened because this was my so-called worthless inheritance.
I pulled up to the house and killed the engine. The night was incredibly quiet, the kind of silence that actually presses against your ears.
I stepped out of the car and looked at the dark silhouette of the cabin. It wasn’t much to look at, but it belonged entirely to me.
The porch groaned under my boots as I climbed the steps. The lock was old, but the key turned smoothly, which actually surprised me.
I expected the place to smell like mildew and dust. Instead, the air smelled of pinewood and old leather.
I flicked the light switch by the door and a warm glow filled the small living room. Someone had clearly been taking care of this place recently.
The wood floors were polished and the furniture was in good condition. A neat stack of firewood was even sitting next to the stone fireplace.
I shut the door and leaned against it. I wondered if my father had arranged for someone to keep an eye on the property before he passed.
My bag was heavy, but my attention was caught by a framed photograph on the mantle. I stepped closer to look at it.
It was my father when he was young, standing in front of this very cabin with an older woman. On the back, he had written, “With Grandma Adelaide, 1962, the place where everything began.”
My father had never mentioned a woman named Adelaide. He always told us that his parents had died young and that there was no other family left.
I studied the woman’s face in the photo. She had very kind eyes but a look that suggested she was someone you didn’t want to mess with.
A sudden knock on the door made me jump. My hand instinctively reached for where my sidearm usually was before I realized I was safe.
I peered through the window and saw an older man standing on the porch. He was holding a large casserole dish in his hands.
“Miss Riley?” he called out. I opened the door cautiously.
“It is Captain Riley,” I corrected him. “Who are you?”
He gave me a warm smile. “My name is Hank McCoy, and I live just two cabins down from here.”
“I am retired from the Marine Corps,” he added. “Your father asked me to check in on you when the time finally came.”
Marine Corps experience explained his straight posture and his sharp haircut. He held out the dish to me.
“It is beef stew, because I figured you would be hungry after that long drive.” I hesitated for a second before taking the dish from him.
“You knew my father?” I asked. Hank nodded his head.
“I knew him well enough,” he replied. “He came up here a week before he passed away and spent three days organizing things.”
“He told me his daughter might show up one day looking like the world had turned on her,” Hank said. “He told me to remind you that the most valuable treasures are often hidden in unexpected places.”
My throat tightened at those words. “He really said that to you?”
“Clear as day,” Hank replied. “Oh, and he also said you should check under the kitchen floorboard whenever you felt ready.”
He tipped his cap to me and started down the steps before I could ask him anything else. I shut the door and stood there in the silence with the warm stew in my hands.
My father had known exactly what was going to happen. He had prepared for this moment, and now I was holding his final message like a coded mission brief.
I set the stew on the counter and dropped to my knees by the kitchen table. The floorboards were made of old pine and were scuffed from years of use.
I ran my hand along the floor until I found one plank that shifted slightly under my touch. I pried it up with my pocketknife and found a metal box wrapped in thick oilcloth.
I carried the box to the table and wiped away the dust. Inside were several papers, old photographs, and a letter addressed to me in my father’s handwriting.
However, it was the geological survey tucked at the bottom that stopped me cold. My training had me scanning the numbers and the summaries very quickly.
Words like granite and high yield jumped out at me. The estimated commercial value was listed as substantial.
Skylar thought she had stuck me with a worthless shack and some dirt. What I actually had was land sitting on top of massive mineral deposits.
I sat down heavily and stared at the papers. My father hadn’t left me scraps, he had left me something incredibly valuable that he didn’t trust Skylar to handle.
I opened the letter with shaking hands. “My dearest Riley, if you are reading this, I was right about your sister’s greed.”
“I pray that I am wrong, but I saw the signs of how she looked at our home like it was a prize,” the letter continued. “I need you to know about Adelaide, the woman who took me in when I had nothing.”
“This was her land, and she studied it her entire life,” he wrote. “She knew it held resources, but she told me to protect it until the family truly needed security and strength.”
I set the letter down as tears began to blur the words on the page. My father had trusted me because he saw something in me that Skylar never could.
I picked up one of the old photos of my father and Adelaide. In the background, I could see survey markers driven into the ground.
She had known the truth all along. She had left all of this to him, and now it was mine to protect.
My phone buzzed on the table and I saw a text from Skylar. “How is the shack treating you, Riley, and does it still smell like old mold?”
I stared at the screen and almost laughed. If she had even the slightest clue what was under my boots, she would be driving here right now.
