At a family gathering to distribute the inheritance, my parents stunned….

At Cornell’s architecture program, my designs won recognition. My professors praised my innovative approach to sustainable urban housing. For once, I felt seen.

Meanwhile, Harper attended business school, preparing to join our father at Wilson Financial. After graduation, I refused my father’s half-hearted offer to find something for me at the company. Instead, I joined Foster and Blaine, a mid-sized architecture firm in Boston specializing in community-centered design.

My starting salary was a fraction of what Harper received upon joining the family business, but it was mine earned on merit alone. The past two years had been challenging. My major project, a mixed-use development designed to revitalize a struggling neighborhood, lost funding when investors pulled out.

My team was disbanded, my confidence shaken. Simultaneously, my engagement to James, a fellow architect, imploded when he accepted a position in Singapore without discussing it with me first. You could always come back to the family business, my father suggested during a rare call after hearing about my professional setbacks.

The conversation lasted three minutes before he excused himself to take an important call from Harper. I was still rebuilding my life when the call came from Stanford Green, my grandfather’s longtime attorney. Your grandfather requests your presence this weekend at Lakeview Estate, he said, his formal tone revealing nothing.

It’s regarding family financial matters. Everyone will be there. The last family gathering had been Thanksgiving, a tense affair where Harper monopolized conversation with tales of her corporate triumphs while my parents gazed at her adoringly.

I’d left early, citing work commitments that didn’t actually exist. But refusing my grandfather wasn’t an option. He’d recently turned 80, and though he rarely discussed health matters, family gossip suggested he’d been consulting specialists.

Perhaps this meeting concerned his estate planning. The drive to New Hampshire that Friday afternoon gave me too much time to think. Would this weekend bring more of the same family dynamics or was change in the air? As the gates of Lakeview Estate came into view, I took a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever awaited inside.

The gravel crunched beneath my tires as I pulled into the circular driveway of Lakeview Estate. The imposing Georgian mansion, with its symmetrical wings and stately columns, had always intimidated me despite the happy memories I’d formed here with Grandpa Maxwell during summer visits. Jackson, the longtime estate manager, appeared before I’d even turned off the engine.

Miss Amber, he said warmly, opening my door. So good to see you again. Your grandfather will be pleased you’ve arrived safely.

Thanks, Jackson. How is he doing? A brief shadow crossed Jackson’s face. He has good days and challenging ones.

Today is better than most. I nodded, understanding the unspoken message. Whatever this gathering was about, Grandpa’s health was likely a factor…