Truth be told, I wanted Charles to sell the farm. We had had large offers from developers pining for that waterfront property, not caring about the generations of men who had babied the soil, making it a hospitable place for crops to grow. But Charles felt the same way about those thousands of acres that I felt about Dogwood. They were his legacy. And, what’s more, they were our living. I argued that selling the farm would be more than a living; it would be wealth. He argued back the very same thing about selling Dogwood. And I knew that, for him, it was so much more than that. He couldn’t bear to see the land he loved become a cookie-cutter subdivision.

And so, there we sat, on opposite sides of the same fence, not angrily, I might add. We understood each other too well to be angry. It simply was what it was, and at some point, things would become dire, and either Charles would agree to sell a small portion of the farm or I would agree to sell Dogwood. But my secret hope was that one of my children would take it off my hands. Without the maintenance, Charles, Tilley, and I could live in a small house on the property, and Tilley’s disability would cover a little help so we could have some freedom. But I knew it was unfair of me to burden either of my children with this behemoth of a house that I loved so dearly it felt like a part of my very soul.

I had hoped that, one day, when Thad inherited all that lovely money from his grandmother, he and Amelia would move back home, take over Dogwood, and fill it with children they’d adopted. Large homes do need to be filled with children, after all. It’s their birthright, their singular point of pride.

But, right now, we had bigger fish to fry than the house.

“She offers to have his baby, he can’t quit casually touching her the entire night, and they smile at each other like no one else is in the room.” Liv stirred the bourbon into her tea with her knife and said, “How are we the only ones who can tell they are meant for each other?”

I sighed wearily. They did have a spark, those two. And, more and more, I noticed them sneaking off to the side at parties or family events, laughing and sharing private jokes. One could argue that they were good friends, but, in their presence, anyone could feel the current that ran between them.

Liv added, “So does this help the plan or hurt it? I can’t tell.”

I looked at her like she was dense. “Who cares about the damn plan? Can you even imagine the scandal of this? What is wrong with Amelia?”

Olivia motioned for me to sit down and handed me my drink. “Oh, Liz, everyone will be talking about it, but it’s not really a scandal.”