The Alil Tree Farm stretched quiet beneath a pale winter sun, rows of evergreens dusted with frost. Ms. Bea walked steadily across the field, her breath rising in clouds, Mitchell trailing behind her with a reluctant shuffle.
“Mom,” he said, half-smiling, half-uneasy. “You didn’t bring me out here just to admire trees, did you?”
She stopped at the edge of the rows, her gaze sweeping over the land. “Mitchell, you’ve been in town long enough for me to hear the way you talk about this place. And I can’t let it slide anymore.”
He shifted, rubbing his hands together against the cold. “I don’t mean disrespect. You know that. I love you. But this farm… it’s small. Hard work. I just don’t see why Lee should tie himself down here when he could—”
“—when he could what?” Ms. Bea cut in, her voice
