My Husband's Wealthy Parents Toasted to My 'Humble Background,' Laughing That I Was Their Charity Case – But What My 80-Year-Old Grandfather Did Next Made Them Go Pale
"Just because it hasn't happened yet—"
"I am a simple farmer, ma'am," he said. "From a backwater like the one your husband was describing earlier."
He looked mildly around the room.
"In fact, I believe it's the very same one. Four hundred acres, more or less. My father worked it. His father worked it. I have been working it for sixty years now, but I'm getting old and started looking to sell."
Grandpa had never mentioned selling the farm to me.
Suddenly I understood why he'd listened instead of leaving.
"In fact, I believe it's the very same one."
Harrison had gone very still.
His face had turned an odd shade.
"About four months ago," Grandpa continued, "a nice young man came out to see me. Told me his firm wanted to buy the land to build a community wellness campus. Health clinic. Public gardens. A place for the town to gather."
He turned his gentle eyes on Harrison.
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His face had turned an odd shade.
"That was your firm, was it not, son?"
He named the firm.
Harrison set his drink down.
He tried to smile, and the smile did not fit his face.
"I mean, one of many projects, we would have to check the paperwork."
"Data center," Grandpa said, still gentle. "I heard you at the bar. Making it sound nice so people don't ask questions. Civilizing the backwater. Am I remembering right?"
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