“Why?”
“Because he always favored you.”
I almost laughed.
“That sounds like Mark.”
She smiled sadly.
“Maybe he got it from me.”
Then she admitted the truth.
She had known about the land.
Not every detail.
But enough.
After my grandfather died, Harold Benson told her the ridge would eventually belong to me.
She had been furious.
Years later, when I went to prison, she assumed I would never make use of it.
She tried to persuade the trust company to sell.
They refused.
Then RidgeLine arrived.
She tried again.
Still failed.
She hoped I would never discover it.
“Why?”
I asked.
She wiped her face.
“Because I thought you didn’t deserve it.”
There it was.
Ugly.
Honest.
I appreciated honesty more than kindness by then.
“You thought prison meant I deserved nothing.”
“Yes.”
“And Lily?”
“I thought loving you would hurt her.”
“So you taught her I didn’t love her.”
