“But the estate is broke,” Caroline whimpered, reaching the bottom of the stairs. “We can’t even afford the property taxes.”

I looked at Marcus, who was now leaning against the wall, staring blankly at his own leather shoes.

“With Marcus’s personal assets seized and redirected to cover the legal damages, we can stabilize the trust,” I said.

I had been thinking about this for weeks, ever since I found the old ledger hidden in the family cemetery vault.

“We can partner with the county historical society,” I continued, looking from Caroline to Lydia.

“Create a joint conservancy. Use the state preservation grants to protect the entire north ridge from any future development.”

Marcus let out a bitter, dry laugh.

“A conservancy,” he spat. “You’d give away our birthright to a bunch of local historians and park rangers.”

“It’s better than turning our grandparents’ graves into a shopping center, Marcus,” I said.

Lydia looked at me with a faint, approving smile.

“The county would support that,” she said. “We want to preserve the James River watershed anyway.”

Detective Vance stepped closer to Marcus, his hand resting near his belt.