She walked through the sliding door into the musty dimness of her father’s workroom. Noah was hunched over, his hands together in a perma-clap, a broad smile on his face. Brad was smiling, too. How could they smile? Didn’t they know the barn would soon become a road?

“What’s going on?”

Brad pointed at a sheaf of papers sitting on top of a manila envelope on the plywood countertop. “Just look,” he said.

She picked up the papers. She gasped, not at the words “Last Will and Testament,” but at her father’s block-print handwriting spelling out his own name, Edward Gordon, just before the words “of sound and disposing mind and memory…”

“I told you to look in the freezer,” Brad said. “That’s where everyone keeps their wills. It’s been here the whole time.”

Poppy looked at the old refrigerator, the door swinging open. “That old thing hasn’t worked in years. I totally forgot about it. I mean, it didn’t even occur to me, but of course it was here.”

Poppy tore through the pages, reading and rereading the fine print, barely able to focus, tears of relief running down her face. She’d sent her intentions to the universe just yesterday, and already the universe answered.

Noah said, “I can’t wait to tell my mom when she gets here.”

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” Poppy asked, remembering what Carol had said: You’re the only person in your family who can fix this. “Can you let me tell her?”

Noah seemed to deflate, but just a little. “Why? Look what it says!”

“I know, I know. But just trust me, OK? I think we need to handle this carefully. Maybe this afternoon when she gets here you two can get lost. Go kayaking or something.” Poppy shoved the papers into the envelope and tucked it into her coat. “I think it would be best if she heard about this from me.”

THIRTY-FIVE

Ann

Ann walked through the door without knocking—why should she knock? Soon the home would be hers, all hers!

Poppy was in the living room, shoving wood into the big fireplace. She startled when she turned and saw Ann.

“Where’s Noah?” Ann asked.

“Hello to you, too.”

“Sorry. Hello. Do you know where my son is?”

“He took Brad kayaking.”

“Fun!” Ann tried to seem bright. She forced herself to smile, but deep down, she was still seething with anger over what Poppy had done to her on Friday night. Kayaking on a cold spring day didn’t sound fun at all to Ann, but it was just as well: she needed to talk to her sister about the house now that she had a plan. “How about we go to Wicked Oyster?” Ann said. “Get something to eat. Talk. Catch up.”

“I’m sorry about what happened. It seemed like a good idea.”