he air was still as I stood in the doorway, the grandeur of the gallery clashing with the foreboding presence of the new arrivals. These men, Joshua’s brothers, had always been distant shadows in his life—a part of the family he rarely spoke of, except in brief, guarded sentences.

I stepped outside, closing the door gently behind me. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached them. The eldest brother, Richard, was the first to speak, his voice as sharp as the biting wind.

“Catherine,” he said, nodding curtly. “We need to talk.”

His words were heavy with unspoken history, with old grievances that seemed to hang in the air like a fog. I nodded, unsure of my footing on this unfamiliar ground.

“Joshua told us you’d come,” Richard continued, his eyes scanning the estate. “He had plans for this place.”

His statement was laden with implications. I wondered if they knew about the transformation Joshua had undertaken, if they realized the farm was now a love letter from him to me.

“We were surprised he never mentioned it,” another brother, Michael, interjected, his tone less accusatory but equally curious.

“He intended it to be a surprise,” I replied, trying to maintain my composure. “A gift.”