The codicil attached to the will had been signed, witnessed, and notarized, and its meaning was simple enough that I understood it at once. For seven years, Birchwood could not be sold, divided, transferred, or pledged as collateral.

During that time, I was required to occupy the main house as its only permanent resident, and no relative could establish residence anywhere on the property.

If I violated those terms, Birchwood would pass directly to the Lake Marlin Conservancy and become a public preserve. Rebecca would receive nothing. So would I.

Eleanor had surrounded me with a legal wall.

She’d also established a trust large enough to cover the property taxes, insurance, major maintenance, dock work, and repairs for ten years, and she’d listed dependable neighbors, contractors, accountants, and seasonal workers who knew the place — plumbing, roof inspections, fuel deliveries, bait orders, septic service, storm cleanup.

She had anticipated everything.