Then she took my hand.
That was when Grandpa gave us one last surprise.
“The farmhouse isn’t the most valuable part of the property.”
Ava and I turned toward him.
He pointed past the trees.
Years earlier, Grandma had rejected several offers from developers.
We’d assumed it was sentimental.
It wasn’t.
A renewable-energy company had recently determined that the surrounding land bordered one of the county’s most strategically valuable transmission expansion corridors.
They wanted a long-term lease.
Not the farmhouse itself.
Only part of the fields.
The offer?
**$186,000 a year.**
Split between us.
Ava’s mouth dropped open.
I stared at Grandpa.
He smiled.
“Your grandmother always did have good instincts.”
But the money wasn’t the real ending.
That came later in the afternoon.
Ava and I sat together on the newly repaired porch.
My white SUV was parked in the driveway.
Her old sedan sat beside it.
