The lawyer's office smelled like old paper and decisions. Maya sat across from her grandmother's attorney, trying to process what she'd just heard.
"Your grandmother left you the house," Mr. Patterson repeated. "But there's a condition. You must live in it for one year. If you sell before then, the house goes to charity."
The house. That crumbling Victorian in Millbrook, three hours from the city where Maya had built her life. Where she had her photography studio, her clients, her community. Everything she'd worked for since leaving that small town at eighteen.
"Why would she do this?" Maya asked.
"Your grandmother believed you ran away from something that wasn't finished." Mr. Patterson slid an envelope across the desk. "She asked me to give you this."
Maya recognized the handwriting. Shaky but determined, like Grandma herself had been.
My dear Maya,
You left Millbrook to escape your mother's shadow. I understand. But you also left yourself behind - the girl who painted murals on my garage, who organized the town art festival when she was fifteen. The city gave you success. But I'm not sure it gave you joy.
This house needs repair. So, I suspect, do you. Give yourself one year to find what you abandoned. If, at the end, you still want your city life - sell it with my blessing. But give Millbrook, and yourself, a chance.
Love, Grandma
Maya folded the letter. Her grandmother had always seen through her. The glamorous website, the prestigious clients, the apartment with the skyline view - but also the loneliness. The way Maya photographed everyone else's special moments but had none of her own. The way she hadn't painted, really painted, since she left.
She thought about her studio lease, coming up for renewal next month. Her assistant, who'd been hinting about taking on more responsibility. The clients who cared about her brand, not her.
She thought about the murals she used to paint. The way the whole town had come out for the art festival. The porch where she and Grandma had watched fireflies.
"I need to think," Maya said.
"Take your time," Mr. Patterson replied. "But the house needs a decision. And perhaps so do you."