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muster up an attempt at flirting. “Thank you, Thomas.”
    He cleared his throat and gathered the papers in his hand. “Your father’s will is pretty straightforward, Iona. He leaves all his possessions to you, including the entire sum of money in his three accounts.”
    â€œThree?” she questioned in shock.
    â€œYes, three. He also had several investments in stocks. All of that will now go to you.”
    â€œI didn’t think he had much money.”
    At this, Thomas glanced away from her face. “John had the three accounts since before you were born. Your mother had access to only one of them, which he rectified when she left.”
    Iona tightened her grip on the arms of the chair. She distinctly remembered the arguments late in the night between her parents over money. Specifically her mother complaining that there was never enough. “And the stocks? Have they always been there?”
    â€œA few. Others he invested in over the past few years.”
    â€œHow much money are we talking about?”
    Thomas hesitated a moment before he replied, “They total just over five hundred thousand pounds.”
    â€œI didn’t think he made that much with his writing.”
    â€œHe’s made verra good money with his novels. Most of his income went to support the village and charities. He’s always lived verra frugally.”
    Iona was beginning to feel ill. The image she had of her father and what her mother had told her over the years was conflicting with things she was learning now.
    â€œI hate to be the one to tell you this, but your father received a large chunk of his money from inheritance,” Thomas said. “He put most of it aside for you.”
    Now she really was going to be sick. Her stomach churned as she broke out into a cold sweat. Why hadn’t he contacted her? Why hadn’t he tried to see her? She would’ve learned the truth about him then.
    Money didn’t matter to her because she made a very good living, but it would’ve been nice to know his side of the story.
    Iona needed time alone. “Is that all?”
    â€œNo,” Thomas said with a shake of his head, his eyes sad. “There is one stipulation in the will. The fifty acres of land can never be sold or leased. It must remain in Campbell hands. It can no’ be transferred to another Campbell except upon your death.”
    She rubbed her temple trying to take it all in. “Does it say why I can’t sell?”
    â€œYour father left you a letter. Perhaps this will explain everything.”
    Iona doubted it. There were dozens of questions bouncing around in her head. She took the letter as she stood and walked from the office in a daze. If she’d felt numb earlier, she was overwhelmed with emotions now.
    By the time she reached her car parked at the church, she managed to calm down a degree. Then she noticed the letter in her hand.
    Her father had been rich, rich enough to keep her mother happy and content. Rich enough to have kept them all together. But he hadn’t. He let them leave that night, destroying her perfect world and the only home she’d known. He hadn’t fought for her.
    Perhaps that’s what hurt the most. It wasn’t like she could ask her mother any of this. The lies her mother told were stacking up hour by hour, and Iona was tired of being lied to. She wanted the truth.
    Or did she? She squeezed her eyes closed and battled against the emotions choking her. She and her father had been close. He was her hero. Until he let them leave.
    Iona opened her eyes and threw the letter, along with her purse, in the passenger seat of the car as she got in. She started the car and drove out of the village, but she didn’t go to the cottage.
    Instead, she steered the car in no particular direction and followed the road, needing to think. Twenty minutes later she pulled over when she saw a scenic spot atop a mountain and rolled down her