I watched him storm away, a sinking feeling forming in my stomach.
I understood that this battle was far from over.
A week later, Kyle arrived at my farmhouse unexpectedly, seething with anger.
“You manipulated him!” he accused, pushing past me into the living room.
I closed the door, taking a deep breath. “Hello to you too, Kyle.”
He spun around, fists clenched.
“Don’t pretend to be innocent, Joe.
While you were with Dad, I was out building a life.”
“Building a life? Is that what you call abandoning your family?”
“I had opportunities, Joe. Big ones.
Dad understood that.”
“Did he?
Because I don’t recall him understanding why his oldest son couldn’t be bothered to call or visit when he was dying.”
Kyle grimaced but pressed on. “Dad must’ve made an error.
The house should be mine. I’m the eldest.
It’s tradition.”
I scoffed.
“Tradition? Since when did you care about tradition?”
“I’m serious, Joe. Give me the house, or I’ll drag you to court.
I’ll stretch this out until you’re drowning in legal fees.”
I scrutinized Kyle, this stranger with familiar features.
Part of me wanted to fight him, to yell at his selfishness.
But another part, sounding disturbingly like Dad, urged me toward a different solution.
“Alright. You want the house?
It’s yours.”
Kyle blinked, surprised. “Really?”
“I’ll sign it over to you.
No strings attached.”
Suspicion clouded his expression.
“Just like that?”
I nodded, reaching for the paperwork Mrs. Hill had left with me. “Just like that.
Consider it yours, brother.”
With a heavy heart and trembling hand, I relinquished Dad’s legacy.
The keys felt cold and reproachful as I handed them over to Kyle.
As he strode out, triumph shining in his eyes, I couldn’t help but smile. He had no clue about the storm he had just walked into.
“Joe,” Mrs.
Hill said when I shared everything with her. “You realize this is madness, right?
You don’t have to cave to your brother’s demands.”
“I get it, Mrs.
Hill. But sometimes you have to lose to win. Sometimes, lessons come in surprising packages.”
The next morning, my phone rang at an unholy hour.
Kyle’s name lit up the screen.
“Hello?” I mumbled, still groggy.
“What the hell did you do?” Kyle’s voice was a mix of panic and fury.
I sat up, now fully alert.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Don’t act dumb! The house!
It’s… it’s…”
“It’s what, Kyle?”
“It’s a freaking circus!” he shouted. “There are slides in the living room!
The bedroom is packed with toys!
Every room looks like it exploded with a rainbow!”
I couldn’t contain my laughter. “Oh, that. Yeah, Dad and I had been cooking up a little project.”
“A little project?
This is no longer a house.
It’s a damn daycare!”
“Actually,” I said, unable to stifle my joy, “it’s more like a community center for the local orphanage.”
“What are you talking about?”
I settled back against my pillows, relishing the moment more than I probably should.
“Well, you see, Dad always wanted to give back to the community. We devised this plan to transform the house into a safe haven for kids without anyone looking out for them.
Indoor swings, ball pits, inflatable castles, art stations… the whole nine yards.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” Kyle growled.
“Oh, I’m serious, brother! And the best part?
It’s all in Dad’s will.
The new owner — which is you now — is legally obliged to keep it as is and finish the renovations.”
“Renovations?” Kyle’s voice squeaked.
“Yep. Remember how Dad adored that candy house from Hansel and Gretel? Well, starting next week, the house’s exterior is getting a makeover.
Candy canes, gumdrops, the works.
And guess who’s covering the expenses?”
The silence on the other end was deafening.
“You knew,” Kyle finally said, his tone a mix of awe and rage. “You knew all this when you gave me the house.”
“I did!
Consider it a lesson in being careful of what you wish for.”
“Joe, please. You have to take it back.
I can’t handle this.”
For a moment, I hesitated.
But then I recalled all the times Kyle turned his back on us, all the lonely nights Dad spent wondering why his eldest son never showed up.
“I’m sorry, Kyle,” I said, feeling no remorse at all. “But you wanted the house. It’s yours now, along with all its responsibilities.
Maybe spending time with those kids will teach you something about family.”
“But the money,” Kyle pleaded weakly.
“I wanted that house as collateral for a loan. I thought I could fix everything.”
“Oh, why didn’t you just ask for help?”
“Because I’m supposed to be the successful one!” he shouted, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“I couldn’t admit I was failing.”
For a moment, I glimpsed the brother I once knew — scared, vulnerable, and human.
But I also recalled the years of neglect and the sadness in Dad’s eyes each time Kyle missed a holiday or birthday.
“Listen, Kyle, I can’t take the house back. But maybe we can come up with a solution.
Come over tomorrow.
We’ll talk.”
There was a long pause before Kyle replied, his voice barely a whisper. “Okay. Thank you, Joe.”
After hanging up, I surveyed my small farmhouse.
It wasn’t much, but it was mine.
And soon, a group of kids would receive the playhouse of their dreams. Dad would have adored that.
I smiled, anticipating the conversation with Kyle.
It wouldn’t be simple, but perhaps we could begin to mend our family ties. After all, that was what Dad would have wanted.
And in the end, that was all that truly mattered.
