5. Sophie
five
Sophie
Two days later, I'm sitting at Kane's kitchen table, surrounded by financial documents, business plans, and my laptop finally showing signs of life as the storm begins to clear.
"Okay," I say, looking up from the spreadsheet I've been working on. "I think I have something."
Kane looks up from where he's been reviewing harvest data. "Good something or interesting something?"
"Potentially game-changing something." I turn the laptop toward him. "What if Morrison's clients weren't just interested in the land for development? What if they were interested in the farm as a heritage tourism and artisanal food operation?"
He studies the screen, and I can see his mind working. "You mean like agritourism?"
"More than that. Look—" I point to the projections I've been running. "Premium maple products, farm-to-table dining experiences, educational tours, seasonal events. The profit margins on artisanal operations are significantly higher than traditional farming."
"But the startup costs..."
"Would be substantial, yes. But not insurmountable with the right investors." I lean forward, excitement building as the plan takes shape. "Kane, what if instead of selling the land, you sold partial ownership? Brought in investors who understand the value of preservation and sustainable tourism?"
Hope flickers in his green eyes. "You really think it could work?"
"I think it's your best shot. Look at these numbers—" I show him the revenue projections. "A properly managed heritage operation could generate three times what traditional maple farming brings in. Maybe it's an opportunity."
"What kind of opportunity?"
I think about Marcus, about the partners who see properties as nothing more than profit centers. About the sick feeling I get every time I present an offer that will destroy something beautiful.
"The kind where I stop tearing things down and start building them up instead."
Kane sets down the papers and moves to my side of the table. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying what if I started my own consultancy? Specialized in finding sustainable investment opportunities for heritage properties?" The idea is gaining momentum as I speak. "The Dubois Maple Farm could be my first client."
"Sophie, that's incredibly risky. You'd be giving up financial security to bet on something completely unproven."
"Some risks are worth taking."
"What about your mother?"
I've been wrestling with this question for the past day. "Mom's always been a fighter. When I called her this morning—the phones finally started working—and told her about this place, about you, about the possibility of doing work that actually matters... you know what she said?"
"What?"
"She said she didn't raise me to play it safe. She said she raised me to go after what makes me happy, even if it's scary."
Kane's eyes search my face. "And what makes you happy, Sophie?"
"This." I gesture around the sugar shack, at the papers scattered across the table, at him. "Working on something that matters. Building instead of destroying. Waking up next to a man who challenges me to be better than I thought possible."
"Even if it means giving up everything you've worked for?"
"What I've worked for was supposed to make me happy. But I haven't been happy, Kane. I've been successful, but not happy. There's a difference."
He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. "Are you sure about this? Because once we do this, there's no going back."
"I'm terrified," I admit. "But I'm sure."
He kisses me then, soft and sweet and full of promise. When we break apart, I can see the future in his eyes—our future.
"So what's our first step?" he asks.
"Our first step is me calling Marcus and telling him the deal is off."
"And then?"
"Then we call every potential investor I can think of and convince them that heritage preservation is the investment opportunity of the century."
"Think it'll work?"
"I think," I say, pulling him down for another kiss, "that anything's possible when you're fighting for something you love."
My phone buzzes with another text from Marcus. Storm clearing. Need signed contracts by tomorrow or deal's off the table.
I look at the message, then at Kane, then delete it without responding.
"Sophie Charles," he says, pulling me into his arms, "you're either the bravest woman I've ever met or the craziest."
"Why can't I be both?"
"Fair point." He spins me around, and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in years. "I love you."
The words should terrify me. We've known each other for less than a week. This is insane, impractical, completely irrational.
Instead, they feel like coming home.
"I love you too," I tell him, and mean it with every fiber of my being.
Outside, the storm is finally breaking, shafts of sunlight piercing through the clouds for the first time in days. But inside the sugar shack, surrounded by the warm glow of our shared future, I've never felt more certain about anything in my life.
Some storms destroy everything in their path.
Others clear the way for something beautiful to grow.