“Come in, come in. I'm Aaron Thomas. Please excuse my...um...associate. Bad day.” The elderly gentleman ushered them into his office. He settled Libby in front of his desk and sat the kids at the cluttered nook in the corner by the window. Libby straightened her spine, folded her hands in her lap, and waited for the axe to fall on her family. She’d survived so much to come to this point. She wondered if she could recover from what else her wayward son had been up to.
Twenty minutes later, Libby's surprised gasp interrupted the droning of the elderly lawyer. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice broke down to a whisper as she took it all in. “One hundred and fifty thousand acres. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Farm it and make a profit in the first two years or it goes up for auction. I believe there’re quite a few locals who’re willing to take it away from you given a chance.” He peered over the top of his wire-framed glasses at her, his eyes twinkling in obvious amusement.
“Sell it now, because I don't want it.” Libby nervously licked her lips as she stared at everything in the room—everything but the man in front of her.
“I have to advise against walking away from this, Mrs. Holland. May I call you Libby?”
Libby nodded, the desire to flee from the room barely held in check as the lawyer looked at the papers in his hand.
“The value of the land alone is almost three million dollars, and with the added value of the stock the place is running—especially if you clean them up and improve the breeding lines already there—you’re looking at half of that again. If you walk away, you don't get any of the proceeds from the farm. It all goes to charity.”
Libby shook her head and ran her hands over her face. I just can't take this in. It's not real. Me running two farms and at a profit?
“I don't know the first thing about farms. I can't even grow parsley in a pot without killing it, for God's sake. I have enough trouble dealing with a delinquent teenage boy, never mind taking on a cattle farm.” Her throat tightened as the tears welled, and she dropped her head into her hands, embarrassed as her shattered emotions finally became too much for her.
“Send in a tray of coffee, please, Annette, and a couple of soft drinks.” She heard Aaron pick up the phone and instruct his receptionist.
“Libby, let me talk frankly.”
Libby pushed her hair out of her eyes and met his serious gaze.
Locking his hands together on the old, scarred timber desktop, Aaron spoke to her. “Thaddeus requested some time ago that we check out your background.”
Her body tensed as she braced herself for whatever accusations would come next. “You could have simply asked me.”
“I hardly think you would have appreciated those questions. I'm sorry if that offends you, but he felt justified in looking into your past. After all, it's been rather a long time since any of the family has seen you, and you’re all that remains of that bloodline. Your mother left the farm when you were three years old, and no one heard from either of you again. You can't blame an old man for his curiosity, can you?”
“I guess not.” She wiped her hand over her eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she grabbed a tissue from Aaron's desk and blew her nose. The door to the office opened, and a tray with coffee was deposited on the desk in front of her.
“Just black for me, thanks.” Libby picked up the mug. “So I guess you told him I'm a widow with two unruly kids and a mortgage I can hardly handle on a rundown house in town, and I work in a pub. Does that sound right?”
“Basically, that about covers it.” Aaron smiled kindly at her. “Unfortunately, Thaddius died before we could arrange for him to meet you, but what I managed to tell him before he passed on was I thought you were the perfect person for the job of running the business.”
“You can't be serious.” Libby scoffed, putting her cup back on the desk in front of her. “I don't remember any of my time on the land or what it takes to run the place; I was a baby when my mother left. The only time I’ve come into contact with animals is the petting area in the Royal Show at Easter. Even then, they’re under someone else's control. Believe me, you have this so wrong, it's not funny.”
“Oh, I think I call myself a good judge of character for a reason. You’re a hard worker. Thaddius claimed it was in the genes.” Aaron put his papers down and leaned back in his chair. “You never shy from hard work if what I hear about you is true. You’ve struggled with and achieved, well, I guess a certain amount of success since your husband died. You could have curled up and felt sorry for yourself and let the government look after you and support your children, but you didn't. Hard work is not something you’ve shied from, and that says a lot about your character.” He took his glasses off, put them down on the desk and smiled at her. “That's the main reason I feel you’re the right person for this bequest. There is nothing out there you cannot learn. Trust me on that. Listen to me for a moment, if you will. You need to get your life back on track, and I am a firm believer in kids growing up in the country. I understand the trouble you’ve been having with your son, and this could be your salvation in more ways than one. More things to keep him out of trouble on a station.” Aaron's keen gaze flicked over at
