Samuel handed me a second letter.
It was written by Margaret herself.
Mrs. Carter,
My husband built the first dishonest land company. My son expanded it. For most of my life, I chose comfort over truth. Your husband tried to expose them, and I remained silent.
I cannot repair what my family did. But I can return what should never have belonged to us.
Use it better than we did.
I sat beneath the apple tree, unable to speak.
Three million dollars had brought Marcus and Rachel to my kitchen.
Twelve million arrived after I had finally stopped measuring love in money.
Clara sat beside me.
“What will you do?”
I looked across the farm.
At the workers dancing beside the barn.
At children carrying baskets of apples.
At students examining the new irrigation system.
At Luis teaching a little boy how to guide a gentle old tractor.
“We expand the trust,” I said.
