The forged signature.
The secret payment.
My sister’s debts.
My father’s silence.
My mother’s certainty that I would eventually surrender.
She was wrong about one thing that mattered more than all the others.
I was never fighting for a piece of land.
I was fighting for the right to decide what happened to something that was legally, personally, and unquestionably mine.
My grandmother had understood that eight years before anyone else did.
Sarah knows what this place can become.
In the end, she had not only been talking about the property.
