“Lottie? You still there?” Hannah’s voice resounded through my car speakers, knocking me out of my trance. Seeing the small town form the horizon, less than a mile away, had my heart rate increasing and my palms gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“Yeah, sorry,” I responded as I drove by the large familiar welcome sign posted on the edge of the city limits. I read the town slogan printed in smaller font below, stifling a weak laugh.

Billingsley was an old farming and ranching community, cattle herds and wheat crops being the backbone of the town. Most of the land was now owned by two prominent families—the Monroes and the Taylors.

The smaller farms, like my family’s, had all either gone under or were sold off, being swallowed up by the surrounding larger farms. My mother refused to sell, despite not being able to run it on her own after my father left us my senior year of high school.

The farm had been in her family for generations. Being an only child and the one who’d for sure inherit it, I tried to convince her to part with the rundown property years ago. I never wanted it. Still didn’t. I really hoped it wasn’t worse for wear, and I could sell it off quickly.

Even when I was younger, I counted the days until I could escape the small town life and move to the city—far, far away from my roots. I’d always been obsessed with fashion. And Billingsley’s idea of designer brands were Carhartts and Wranglers. There was nothing left for me in that town. Well, mostly nothing.

“I thought maybe I’d lost you already to the Deep South where cell phone towers don’t exist.”

I chuckled at Hannah’s misconceptions of rural Texas. “Unfortunately, I can still hear you loud and clear, Han.”

“How much farther do you have to go?”

“I just pulled into town. I’m going to stop by the attorney’s office first before driving out to the farm.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can still book a plane ticket and be there for the funeral. I hate you’re doing this alone.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I won’t be here for long. I’m only doing a small memorial service, since she asked to be cremated. I’ll be home before you know it. I shouldn’t be here more than a week. Just long enough to put the farm up for sale.”

She released a heavy sigh, reluctantly agreeing with me. “Okay. Call if you need me, and I’ll be on the next flight.”

“Thanks, Hannah. I’ll talk to you soon.”

I hung up the phone, allowing the silence in my car to envelop me. Passing through town, a flurry of memories rushed back to me. The town hadn’t changed much, but yet seemed smaller than I remembered. Or maybe everything always seemed bigger when I was younger and hadn’t seen the size of the world beyond our county lines.

I turned off Main Street into the picturesque town square. Driving past the court house, I pulled into a parking spot in front of Mr. Daniels’ office. He’d promised to stay after normal business hours, waiting for me to arrive. It was barely after five. I turned off the ignition of my rental car, taking in a deep breath through my nose before opening my door and forcing myself out of the car.

I took steady, nervous steps, my nude Louboutin pumps clicking on the cracked sidewalk, my body hesitant to enter the building. I was still in denial she was really gone. Sitting down with Mr. Daniels made it more real. The same as being in this town did.

I gave myself a quick pep talk, straightening my sheer blouse and gray pencil skirt before opening the door and striding into the small office. Desolation surrounded me as I took in the empty space. It was a small room with one desk strategically placed directly in front of the entrance. I assumed it was where Mrs. Covington sat. Hearing the chime above the door, an older gentleman dressed in a dark navy suit appeared in the doorway of a smaller office off to the side of the reception area.

“Ms. Davis, I assume?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “You must be Mr. Daniels.” I took a few more steps, matching his movements as he came toward me to shake my hand.

“Please, come on in.” He guided me into his private office.

I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk as he walked around and took his own seat, the desk a barrier between us. He shuffled a few papers around on the mahogany surface while we sat in an uncomfortable silence.

“Ah, here it is,” he finally spoke, handing me a thick manila envelope. “Everything you need is in there. She appointed you as the executor of her estate and left you as the sole inheritor of everything she had, which included a very sizable life insurance policy.”

I nodded, taking the envelope from him, staring blankly at it as I held it in my trembling hands.

When I didn’t say anything, he cleared his throat, continuing to speak, “I figured you’d want to take the next few days to review everything. Feel free to ask me any questions. You’ll just need to sign the papers I’ve marked and get those back to me. Then I’ll handle the rest.”

I glanced up. Finding my voice, I forced myself to ask the one question I needed to know the answer to. “How long?”

His brow wrinkled, his head tilting to the side. “How long what, Ms. Davis?”

“How long was she sick? How long had she known she was going to die?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, breaking our eye contact as he searched for a response. “I’m—I’m not sure, to be honest. When I got the call, all they said was they couldn’t get a hold of you, and I was the only other person listed on her emergency contacts.” He looked back at me, folding his hands in front of him on his desk. “I assume she’d at least known for the last year. It’s when she first started making sure everything was in order with her will…I’m truly sorry for your loss, Ms. Davis. I do know one of the items contained in there is a letter she left for you. Maybe that’ll answer some of your questions.”

I glanced back down at the envelope holding my mother’s final wishes—her final words—the weight of it growing heavier by the second. “Thank you, Mr. Daniels.”

He nodded, giving me a soft smile before pulling open the top drawer of his desk. He picked up a set of keys, handing them to me. “These are for the house.”

I took them from him without a word, only offering my own placid smile before standing. He escorted me back to the front door of his office, reminding me once more to call him if I had any questions about the paperwork. I thanked him, leaving him watching after me as I drove away.

* * *

The car rumbled and vibrated as I crossed over the old cattle guard under the iron arch reading Davis Farm. It hadn’t always been the name of the farm—only changed after my mother and father married. My father had insisted on it.

I drove down the dirt road leading to the small farmhouse I grew up in, kicking up dust behind the car as I went. In every direction I looked, there were so many memories—both good and bad—from the nearly dry creek bed to the old oak trees lining the drive.

The car rolled to a slow stop in front of the house. Leaning forward to peer out the windshield, I took in the dilapidated home. The exterior was definitely worse than when I last saw it twelve years ago. The pale blue siding was in desperate need of painting and most of the porch boards needed to be replaced and refinished. Getting out of the car, unsteadily walking across the dirt drive in my heels, I prayed the interior was in better shape.

I climbed the first few creaky steps up the wraparound porch, locking my eyes on the front door ahead of me. The third step dipped and gave. Before I could react, I was falling through, the weathered board splitting in two. I yelped as my foot dropped below, my leg lodged all the way to my knee.

“Shit!” I cursed, the pain radiating. I looked down at my predicament, wondering if my streak of bad luck would ever end. I gripped the stair railing, hoping it was stable enough for me to pull myself out. As I struggled to free my leg, a loud, drawn out whistle came from near my car.

“Well, I’ll be damned. If it isn’t ole Lottie Dottie.” A deep voice chuckled.

Annoyed by the use of my old nickname I loathed, I snapped my head up to glare at the trespasser. My anger quickly faded with a smile curling my lips.

“Billy Miller!” I squealed. “Get your ass over here and help me out so I can squeeze the life out of you!”

He chuckled some more as he strolled forward. “You were always getting yourself into trouble. I see not much has changed.”

Planting one foot on the first step and the other on the ground, he reached out his arm to me. His large, calloused hand clasped around my forearm at the bend of my elbow. I gripped his arm in the same manner, holding on tight as he easily pulled me from the hole I’d been stuck in.

After straightening myself, brushing off the debris from my skirt, I looked up at my old friend, who was wearing a shit-eating grin on his handsome, tanned face. I took him in, scanning the length of his strong build as he did the same to me. Though he no longer was the young teenage boy I remembered, he still had his boyish charm and good looks with his short brown hair and hazel eyes.

“Looking good, Lottie.” He smiled, his hands resting on his hips, showing off his strong biceps that were sculpted from doing manual labor on the farm.

“Thanks, Billy. You don’t look so bad yourself. What the hell are you doing here?”

His smile dimmed as he lifted the worn baseball cap from his head, rubbing an uneasy hand through his hair before replacing it. “You know how this town is…strange car driving through, pulling into the ole Davis Farm where nobody’s home. Got a call when I was turning out the horses. I’ve been looking after things since your mom…” he trailed off, neither of us wanting him to finish his statement.

“Thank you.” I gave him a tight smile.

“Don’t mention it.” He tucked his hands in his jean pockets. “How ya doin’, Lottie?”

Lowering my eyes unable to handle the sympathy in his expression, I gave him my standard response as of late. “I’m fine.”

I was anything but fine. Especially after my meeting with Mr. Daniels. I wondered if Billy had known the whole time she was sick. How many people have known? The way this town gossiped, I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew. Not one person bothered to tell me. Not that they could. Besides my mother, I didn’t exactly stay in touch with anyone after I left.

I raised my eyes, looking past him into the overgrown fields no longer yielding anything but weeds. The sun was starting to set, but the summer heat was still beating down on me. Neither one of us spoke for a moment, both of us looking anywhere but at each other.

“Lottie, if ya need anything, I’m here. I’m happy to help out ’round the farm.” His hand gave my shoulder a platonic brush of support.

I returned my gaze to his. “I appreciate that, Billy. I don’t plan on staying long, though. I’m hoping to get things cleaned out and the property on the market before the week ends.”

A flash of surprise moved across his face, but was quickly replaced with an impassive expression. “Well, then I guess if ya need help moving things.”

“I may take you up on your offer.” I smiled a little wider this time. “Thanks again, Billy. For looking after things and helping me out of that hole.”

“No need to thank me. It’s kinda my fault. I’d been meaning to replace the boards for your mom. Plus, I always love helping a damsel in distress, especially when it’s Miss Lottie Dottie.” He gave me another one of his smooth smiles as he took a few backward steps. “See ya ’round, Lottie. Make sure you take care of that scratch on your leg. And try stayin’ outta trouble while you’re in town.”

“No promises. It seems to find me more often than not.” I laughed.

He shook his head, chuckling with me as he continued to walk with his back to his truck where it was parked near the barn. He turned around and climbed in. Giving me a final nod, he drove his truck down the dirt road, leaving me alone once again.

I let out a heavy sigh as I watched the dirt cloud he left in his wake. Seeing Billy brought even more memories to the forefront, sending another sharp stab to my heart.

Billy was a year older than me. His younger sister, Leighton, was my childhood best friend—another person I left behind when I fled Billingsley.

I hadn’t intended for that to happen, but over my freshman year of college with so many miles separating us, our friendship slowly faded with more time and less phone calls. I wasn’t even sure anymore who stopped calling who first. It didn’t matter at this point. The town, the people, they were all my past. And once the week was over, I could push all the memories to the back of my mind once again where they belonged.