I’m not going to tell you all of it. There’s no use. There was no affair, no screaming, nothing you’d put in a country song. We just woke up one day and realized we’d been living like roommates for three years. Brad wanted to move to Madison and sell the farmhouse. I wanted to stay. Brad wanted to cash out the land. I couldn’t even picture it.

“It’s just dirt, Amy,” he said once. “It’s eighty acres of dirt and some old trees.”

“It’s Grandpa’s,” I said.

“Your grandpa’s dead.”

That was the night I knew it was over.

We filed in the spring. Brad hired a lawyer from Eau Claire named Darren Fiske, who wore cowboy boots with his suits and billed $325 an hour. In our first mediation session, Fiske argued that the land should be treated as marital property, or at least that Brad was entitled to a share of its increased value.

“My client contributed substantially to the improvement of that property,” Fiske said. “He built four deer stands on it. He maintained the trails. He paid half the property taxes in 2024.”

My lawyer was a calm, gray-haired woman named Patricia Haugen. I found out later she was the granddaughter of Jim Haugen, the Vietnam vet in Grandpa’s ledger. She didn’t even look up from her file.

“Mr. Fiske,” she said, “in Wisconsin, property acquired by inheritance is individual property. It stays individual property unless it’s mixed with marital assets in a way that makes it impossible to trace. Mrs. Halvorsen inherited this land by will. The deed is in her name alone. It was never retitled, and it was never refinanced. The tax bill came in her name. Your client wrote one check for half of one year’s property taxes. That’s $930. We’ll be happy to reimburse it.”

Fiske tried for two more sessions. He argued that the stands Brad built added value. Patricia brought in a local appraiser named Gordon Lund, who testified that four homemade wooden deer stands added, in his professional opinion, “approximately nothing” to the value of eighty acres of farmland.

The divorce was final in October, two years ago. Under the judgment, I kept the farmhouse and the eighty acres as my individual property. Brad kept his truck, his bass boat, his half of our joint savings, about $23,000, and his own 401(k). I reimbursed his $930 in property taxes with a check from my credit union account at Royal Credit Union, and in the memo line I wrote: “Paid in full.”

Brad moved to an apartment in Menomonie. I stayed in Grandpa’s farmhouse.

I thought that was the end of it.

I didn’t know he’d kept something. Not a key. Something worse than a key.

He kept the idea that the ridge was his.