Ist das Leben etwa ein Bauernhof?

The next morning, I arrived at the notary’s office in Silverglade at 8 a.m.

Notary: “Gillian, your great-uncle George has named you his sole heir. You will inherit not only a considerable sum of money, but also Meadowland – his large ranch near Firgrove.”

Had the notary just said sole heir? Me – a banker from Munich – what was I supposed to do with a farm on Jorvik? And what would my parents say? Well, taking a look wouldn’t hurt, and it could surely be sold quickly. I was bursting with excitement. I had to tell Esmeralda Holdsworth right away.

Gillian: “… me and a farm … here!”

Esmeralda: “What are you going to do now, my dear? You’re not thinking of selling it, are you?”

George had always told Esmeralda that he no longer had any family – and therefore no one would inherit anything. He intended to leave all his property to the Horse Rescue Association, an organization dedicated to helping animals in need. An honorable thought. Should I donate my inheritance in his name? I decided to at least take a look at the farm. To avoid drawing attention, I borrowed Field once more and rode out there. After all, I didn’t want it to look like I couldn’t wait to take possession of my inheritance. So this was it… Meadowland. Not a farm like I had imagined, but a vast estate. With its own horse breeding operation, a riding arena, a large manor house, and several stables. Well maintained and beautiful. I could understand why Uncle George cared so deeply about this place – a home where horses could truly feel at ease. I rode further onto the property when a young man on horseback called out to me.

Josh: “Hi Miss, can I help you?”

I recognized him from the funeral.

Gillian: “No, thank you. I just discovered this beautiful estate and wanted to have a look. Are you the owner?”

He introduced himself as Josh, the foreman. The manager was away, but he offered to show me around instead. I gladly accepted and was overwhelmed. Everything was perfectly organized and gave the impression of a thriving operation. Eventually, I knew it was time to leave. I needed to let it all sink in. When I returned to the Moorland stables, the owner, Thomas Moorland, greeted me.

Thomas: “Good old Field. We’ll have to start thinking about saying goodbye. I can’t keep you anymore. Money’s getting tight, my boy. If only I knew you’d end up in good hands…”

Field was going to be sold? That would be terrible – such a wonderful horse. Thomas was clearly struggling financially, and selling Field was visibly hard for him. If only I could buy him… but owning a horse? With Munich prices, that was impossible. I spent the evening in front of my laptop, researching current property prices on Jorvik, stable fees in Munich, and the Horse Rescue Association (HRA). So many thoughts filled my mind. What if my parents had never moved to Munich? What if I had grown up on Jorvik? My bond with horses must have originated here. The island was beautiful, the people kind. I felt safe, connected… as if I had finally arrived.