Inside the folder was a recorded quitclaim deed dated in April. I read the description slowly, hardly believing what my eyes were telling me. Thirty-eight acres of land, including the tenant house where I lived, the pecan orchard, and the surrounding improvements, had been transferred into my name. My hands began to shake. I asked Rosella whether there had been a mistake, but she shook her head. The paperwork was official, properly recorded, and signed. Henrietta had made me the legal owner of the land I had lived beside for most of my life.

Rosella then showed me older documents Henrietta had discovered in the farmhouse attic in 2023. They revealed that my great-grandfather, Isaac Whitsett, had owned the property from 1879 until 1931. The Lockridge family had acquired it after a suspicious tax sale for only forty-two dollars. A letter from Horace Lockridge, the county tax collector, described how the property assessment had been unfairly increased to force the sale. I stared at the faded handwriting, realizing that my family had lost something precious long before I was born. Henrietta had uncovered the truth—and she had decided to give it back.