Rosa didn’t look at the paper. She looked at the scratches on the table. "Do you know where this table came from, Leo?" Leo nodded. "Grandpa built it."
He smiled, a slow, genuine thing that reached his eyes for the first time all day. With deliberate slowness, Leo picked up the contract, tore it straight down the middle, and tossed the pieces into the center of the table. Casagrande
"He’s always late, Mama," her daughter, Elena, replied with a soft smile as she set the long wooden dining table. "Leo takes after Papa. He thinks he can negotiate with the sunset." Rosa didn’t look at the paper
"He’s late," Rosa murmured, casting a glance toward the heavy oak door. "Grandpa built it
"Five million," Elena whispered. "Leo, that changes everything."
Leo reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded document. He laid it on the worn wood of the table. "They want to build a shopping center and three hundred homes. They are offering five million."
Leo Casagrande was currently a mile away, standing at the highest point of the north pasture. He was thirty-two, with his grandfather’s stubborn jawline and eyes that seemed to constantly search the horizon. In his hand, he crushed a dry clod of earth, watching the gray dust slip through his fingers.
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