Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“No, my grandmother died recently, and I just found out. I need to go handle her estate.”
Her eyes narrowed. “This Friday is impossible. Next week is still difficult because we’re already short-staffed. The best I can do is swing the Friday after that.”
Of course. The office always came first here. I nodded, because what else was I going to do? Argue about a woman I barely knew?
When I stepped back into the maze of cubicles, I felt guilty for how much I was looking forward to my trip to Timber Ridge. But it was something to look forward to compared to the monotony of my everyday life.
My job wasn’t completely terrible. I had a steady paycheck and predictable hours, but I didn’t bounce out of bed every morning thrilled to come here. My apartment was clean, safe, and quiet, but it didn’t really feel like home. And my social life mostly consisted of reading and watching reality television, with the occasional invite to lunch by a coworker thrown in. Mostly because they felt like they owed me since I brought freshly baked bread into the office every week.
I wasn’t unhappy—more like…content. I had the kind of quiet life that looked fine from the outside but left me wondering if there was more on the inside.
The trip wouldn’t change any of that. All I’d be doing was paperwork and going through my grandmother’s belongings. Nothing more. And I needed to remember that.
Back at my desk, I searched flight options and booked a ticket before I could overthink it. The confirmation email dinged a second later, and a faint shiver of anticipation flickered in my chest.
“Just a weekend,” I whispered under my breath, clicking out of the browser window. “In and out.”
I had no idea that one weekend in a tiny mountain town was about to change everything.
1
ROWAN
Irolled my rental car to a stop beside a row of picture-perfect storefronts. A rush of crisp air filled my lungs when I stepped out. It was cleaner than anything I'd ever breathed in the city, and it made my eyes prickle a little.
Timber Ridge looked just like the photos I’d found online, yet somehow even more charming.
Sun-washed awnings stretched over shop windows, and wooden signs swung gently in the breeze. I stood there for a moment, absorbing the scene like I’d accidentally wandered into the warm-hearted opening shot of a movie.
And then I realized people were looking at me.
A few of them gave friendly smiles, and I got curious glances from others. Something I wasn't used to after growing up in a city where blending in was the norm.
Heat crept up my neck as I gave one of them a small, awkward nod back and pretended to check my phone to look busy.
It was hard to reconcile this inviting town with the woman who had been nothing more than an old photo in a dusty box. My grandmother had just been a name my parents rarely spoke aloud, but now I was getting a glimpse into her world.
Exhaling slowly, I scanned the row of buildings for Mr. Huxley’s office and headed toward it when I spotted the sign.
The bell over the door gave a soft chime as I stepped inside, the warmth of the room wrapping around me after the chilly air.
The woman behind the reception desk beamed a smile at me. “Welcome to Huxley Law. How can I help you today?”
“I’m Rowan Cooke. Mr. Huxley should be expecting me.”
“He is.” Her smile widened. “Welcome to Timber Ridge.”
“Thanks.”
A man with silver hair and wire-rim glasses opened the door to her left and stepped out. “Gerald Huxley. Thank you for coming on such short notice, Ms. Cooke.”
He offered his hand, and I tried to ignore how clammy mine felt when I shook it. “Of course. Thank you for calling.”
“Please, come in and have a seat.” He led me into his office and gestured toward a pair of chairs in front of his desk, then settled across from me and opened a thick folder. “We’ll go through everything at your pace.”
“Okay.”
He began with the practical details. “Your grandmother arranged for the house deed to transfer to you upon her passing. So there are no probate delays on that.” He handed me a cleanly folded document with my name printed neatly beside hers. “Once you sign here and I file the paperwork, the property will be fully in your name.”
I nodded numbly and signed where he indicated.
Next came two keys on a ring, along with an inventory list of everything inside the cottage.
“All creditors have been paid, and your father was the only other heir. All of the contents inside Eleanor’s home will officially be yours once probate clears.”
“When will that be?” I asked.
“You’re the last person I needed to notify as executor. After today, I can provide final accounts to the court and formally close the estate,” he explained with a gentle smile. “Barring any unforeseen circumstances, everything will officially be yours on Monday.”