Willow Haven

Chapter 2.

My friends must think I've fallen asleep because in a matter of an hour, the raging party simmers out and everyone goes home. But I'm not asleep, sobbing hysterically into my pillow, doing my best to muffle out the sound so no one knows.

'Mom? Who is Milton Durand?' That question changed my life, and I'm left picking up the pieces. But I'm not interested in picking up the pieces; all I want to do is rewind and never open that envelope.

Milton Durand is, in fact, my biological grandfather. When my birth mother died, an adoption agency contacted my parents, and they took me right away. A no-contact contract was enacted, with my parents having no intention of ever telling me that I was adopted. My mother went so far as to dye her hair blonde like mine and claim it was her natural hair color.

It's not. It's brown.

Since Milton was dying, he ignored the no-contact contract and sent me this letter. Not only this letter but the deed to his entire farm. After the phone call with my parents that ended with me hanging up on them, I Googled the address. A one-level farmhouse on over 200 acres of farmland, connected to a large lake and forests, estimated at $1.5 million. Situated in a town called Willow Haven, Illinois, the population less than 2,000.

It is yours now. I hope that you can find your way back to where you come from, and give it the life it's needed since your mother died.

I cry myself to sleep, swearing that I'll never step foot on that farm, even if my life counts on it.

McKenzie shakes me lightly, waking me.

"It's almost noon. You ok?" I sit up on the bed, feeling as wrecked as I probably look. "You missed your morning workout."

I reach over to the side of the bed and hand her the envelope. She looks at me, confused, but I motion for her to open it. I watch her closely as she pulls out the documents. She skims over the deed and then finds the letter. She reads it, glances at me, then reads it again.

"This is a scam, right?"

"I thought so too until my parents confirmed it."

Her eyes widen as she pulls me into a hug, and if I weren't so depleted from crying last night, this gesture would cue a mental breakdown. But now, I feel nothing at all.

"Ava, what are you gonna do?"

"Nothing," I say, and she pulls back.

"You can't do nothing!"

I shrug. "I guess I'll sell the place and take the money."

McKenzie flips through the deed paperwork again. Her lawyer-to-be face is on as her eyes quickly bounce back and forth through paragraphs of nonsense. She then points to a section on page 3.

"You can't sell, Ava. You have to wait at least a year. It's written here."

"Where?" I ask, taking the paperwork from her. We both lean in and read the section she found:

 Stipulation: Ms. Monroe needs to have the property for one year before she can make a final decision regarding the property. If Ms. Monroe wants to sell, she can keep all profits after the first year. If Ms. Monroe wants to keep the property, she may access the second trust fund to support her with the property.

"I don't want this," I throw the paperwork on the floor as I stand, my feet guiding me from one wall to the other. "I didn't ask for this! Any of this! I didn't ask to know this information, and I for sure don't want anything to do with this fucking farm!" McKenzie watches me pace until I plop back down on the bed, burying my face in my hands. "What am I gonna do, Kenz?"