The phone call came just as I’d started to believe my life couldn’t get any more chaotic. My lawyer’s voice on the other end was too calm.

“Elizabeth,” he began, “I’m sorry to inform you, but your grandfather passed away last night.”

The words hit me like a freight train. I sank into the chair, clutching the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.

“There’s more,” he continued after a pause. “You’re one of the heirs to his farm.”

His farm. Memories of sunlit fields, the creak of the old barn door, and the smell of fresh hay flashed in my mind. I hadn’t been there in years since my life took a turn toward the city.

“What else do I need to know?”

The lawyer sighed. “The farm is in foreclosure. The debt needs to be paid by Christmas.”

***

I arrived on the farm a few days later. The place looked the same, yet so much had changed. The barn leaned a little more to one side, and the paint on the house had faded.

I stood there, taking it all in when a sharp voice broke the silence, “You’re finally here.”

It was Jeremy, my cousin, always more practical than sentimental. He approached with his usual tight-lipped expression.

“Jeremy,” I greeted, trying to mask my unease.

The lawyer joined us soon after, carrying a stack of papers and a brown envelope.

“Thank you both for coming,” he said, his breath forming clouds in the icy air. “As you know, the farm’s future hangs in the balance. Both of you have equal inheritance rights, but the financial burden is significant. The debt must be paid in full by Christmas.”

Jeremy’s jaw tightened. “And if we don’t?”

“It’ll be auctioned off.”

Before the weight of his words could fully sink in, he handed me an envelope. “Your grandfather left this for you, Elizabeth.”

As I unfolded the slightly yellowed paper, I could almost hear his voice reading the words aloud:

Dear Elizabeth,

If you’re reading this, it means I’m no longer here. I want you to know how much you’ve always meant to me and how proud I’ve been of you. The farm has always been more than land.

This Christmas, I have one wish: spend it on the farm with Jeremy. The two of you may not always see eye to eye, but family is what makes this place whole.

Take care of the farm and each other. That’s all I ever wanted.

With love,

Grandfather

The letter was short, but it carried the weight of a lifetime. Suddenly, Jeremy’s voice brought me to reality.

“I have an idea. I’ll cover the debt for now. You can pay me back later. That way, we can at least save the farm until Christmas.”

It was a lifeline, and I couldn’t afford to refuse.

“All right,” I said softly, sealing a pact I’d soon come to regret.

***

Jeremy had left for the city, leaving the farm to me. The house felt like it had been holding its breath for years. I opened the windows to let in the crisp winter air.

“All right, let’s wake you up,” I said aloud, as though the house could hear me.

I began wiping down the kitchen counters, scrubbing away years of grime. The faint smell of cinnamon lingered in the air, and I smiled.

“Grandfather, you’d have a fit if you’d seen this mess,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix it. Just… give me some time.”

Outside, the chickens clucked noisily as I approached with a bucket of feed.

“All right, all right!” I laughed, scattering the grain. “You’re just like Jeremy. Always impatient.”

I leaned against the fence for a moment, gazing at the fields stretching out before me. “Grandfather, why does this place feel so heavy now?”

***

Days blurred together as I worked, trying to make the house feel like home again. I told myself it was partly to thank Jeremy for helping save the farm. Nights were spent at my working laptop, grateful for the internet I’d managed to install.

A few days before Christmas, I headed to a nearby lot where Christmas trees were sold. The air smelled of fresh pine.

“Looking for something special?” a deep voice asked as I examined a sturdy spruce.

I turned to see a man in his forties, wearing a wool coat and a warm smile.

“Yes. Something that says… Christmas at home.”

“I think this one might do,” he said, motioning to the tree I’d been eyeing. “It’s sturdy and full, just like your grandfather always picked.”

“You knew him?!”

He nodded. “Richard. I grew up nearby. Your grandfather and I went way back.”

There was a kindness in his eyes, an openness that made me feel at ease. When he offered to help me transport the tree back to the house, I accepted gratefully. Richard also helped to set up the tree.

“Your grandfather always used those old ornaments,” he said, gesturing toward a box in the corner. “They’re probably still there.”

Curious, I opened the box and sifted through the ornaments, each one a piece of my childhood. Then, tucked beneath a layer of tinsel, I found a folded piece of paper tied with a ribbon. My heart quickened as I opened it.

It was… my grandfather’s will! Beneath it, there was a small note written in my grandfather’s handwriting. His words felt like a whisper from the past:

My dearest Elizabeth,

I knew you looked here, just as I knew you’d be the one to keep the heart of this family alive. The farm is yours, as it should be.

I also know Jeremy. He means well, but he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s not strong enough to hold onto this place the way you can.