“You won’t have a sister,” Kelsey said. “Because if he leaves me, I will never speak to you again.”

“And you won’t have a father,” Harold added.

The kitchen grew very quiet.

The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the wind outside.

I looked at Harold.

His face was lined, his jaw set in the same stubborn way it had been my entire childhood.

He had always taken Kelsey’s side.

Kelsey was the fragile one, the one who needed saving.

I was the strong one, which meant I was the one who was expected to sacrifice.

“You mean that, Dad?” I asked.

Harold looked away, staring at the cast-iron skillet on the stove.

“I can’t watch your sister’s life fall apart over a piece of dirt,” he said.

“It’s not just a piece of dirt,” I said. “It’s the ridge. It’s the spring.”

“It’s a road, Meredith,” Harold said. “Just a few yards of gravel.”

“It’s a development,” I said. “Trevor wants to build six cabins right on the boundary line.”

“He has to,” Kelsey cried. “The investors demand it.”