She’d taken the position at Angel’s to earn money, and she’d been surprised by just how good the tips were. Eventually, she’d look for another graphic design position, one she could do from home. Or maybe she’d even start her own company. That was a prospect she’d thought about off and on for the last several months.
Leaving the porch, she took this time—with the sun still fairly low in the sky it wasn’t too hot yet this second week of June—and walked around the house. She’d laid her father to rest the day before, between her mother and her brother. While she’d done her best to be an attentive, caring daughter as she’d helped him these last several months, she’d had to show him an air of confidence and deference that she didn’t necessarily feel.
Today was a new day and, as that old cliché went, the first day of the rest of her life. So as she walked around the house proper, her eye became critical as she took in every detail. Her father hadn’t seen to the upkeep of much in the last few years since her mother had passed. Hell, he hadn’t done much more than the bare minimum since her only sibling, Daniel, had died in Afghanistan ten years before.
The house definitely needed painting, and a couple of windows should be replaced. There was that one step leading to the porch that needed to be fixed, and several on the porch floor needed to be replaced, too. She hated the look of the propane tank. Her grandfather had installed the so-called modern convenience, and she had to admit using the fuel for the furnace was better than using wood stoves for those few cold days. So she’d make a note and check out switching to electric heat.
All in all, it was more house than she would need until that nebulous day in the future when she married—if she married—and had a family. The barn probably needed work too, and the fields had been left fallow for a good long while.
Do as I tell you. When I’m gone, sell and get yourself back to the city. You’re only a useless girl. You can’t stay here. You wouldn’t be able to handle it. You’d only destroy my heritage.
Michaela pushed away the words her father had spoken before he’d fallen into that final coma. She didn’t doubt he’d meant them. He’d had a habit of dismissing her for as far back as she could remember, but especially after Daniel died. But her father was gone now, and she believed that it had been his fear—he knew he was dying—that had prompted those hateful words.
Yes, it would take a lot of work, no doubt about it. But this farm had been home for all of her life. It was her heritage, too. She was really hoping it could continue to be so, that this place was where she’d make her mark in life and that it would turn out to be her legacy.
Thinking that particular word drew her attention to the back of the property, where, in the distance but very visible, that beautiful old live oak grew hale and hardy. Her father said his dad had named it the Legacy Tree. She’d asked him why, but he’d had no answer. Not about that, nor about much of anything else, either.
“I don’t have any answers about anything. But maybe Jake has some for me.”
She turned on her heel and headed back into the house. She needed to shower, dress, and grab a quick breakfast. And then she’d go and see Jake.
Less than an hour later, she arrived at Jake’s office. She hadn’t been there before, nor had she seriously spent much time in Lusty, itself. She liked the look of the place. From what she she’d seen so far, neat and tidy and vibrant were the best adjectives she could think of to describe this small town.
Weird I haven’t been here much, considering I know so many of the people. Of course, she had been very busy over the last several months. Between working and taking care of her father, she hadn’t had much spare time.
But this was the first day of the rest of her life. Michaela made a vow then and there that she’d change that. She could go for breakfast some days to the restaurant, Lusty Appetites, and goodness knew she could use a good spa day now and again.
And then there was that museum she’d heard so much about. She’d visit that, too, as well as the library.
Jake came out of an inner office the moment she walked in and closed the front door. There was a receptionist’s desk there, but it looked as if no one sat there. It was neat as a pin.
“Bridget is off today.” He indicated the empty desk. He shook his head. “She’s worked with me a couple of months now, and I swear she gets more done than you could believe, but her desk is always just like that every night. Everything in its place.”
Michaela had met Jake’s new assistant shortly after he’d hired her. Everything in its place would describe Bridget Carmichael’s appearance, too.
“Come into my office, where things are not nearly as neat, nor as organized—well, not to the untrained eye, anyway.”
Michaela had the sense she’d stepped into an old-time lawyer’s office. Jake’s desk was big and, she’d bet, an antique. There were bookshelves, and it was the scent of wood polish and leather that loosened the tension that had snuck up on her. She didn’t know how or why, but there was something innately comforting in the scent of wood polish and leather.
Jake saw her seated. “I’ve tea that Ginny makes for me every day. Would you care for some?”
“Yes, please.”
Jake grinned as he
