Chapter Forty-One
Evan
Firebrook Valley
Main Street glowed under hundreds of strands of lights stretched between the brick buildings, creating a canopy of tiny stars that seemed to push back the weight of the mountain shadows.
Lanterns hung from the maple trees, their flickering light dancing over the long wooden tables that ran the length of the square.
The air was a thick, sweet perfume of cider donuts, wood smoke, and something new, a faint, exotic earthiness that clung to the breeze from the saffron crocuses blooming inside the new community greenhouse.
A small stage had been tucked near the gazebo, where a trio of local musicians played a soft, rolling fiddle tune that felt like the heartbeat of the valley. And everywhere, everywhere, there were people.
Kids ran past with sparklers, their laughter trailing behind them like smoke. Couples wandered between booths filled with jars of honey and Evie’s famous lemonades. But the centerpiece of the night sat just beyond the town square: the new community greenhouse.
The structure was a cathedral of glass and steel I had quietly funneled my own money into through three different shell companies.
It wasn’t just a building; it was an engine.
Inside those climate-controlled walls, the town was planting Crocus sativus or saffron.
The red gold was difficult to grow and even harder to harvest, but in this valley, it would provide a secondary income for every family involved.
It was a future they could hold in their hands.
“It’s perfect,” Nora whispered beside me.
She looked terrified. She kept glancing around, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater, her eyes darting toward the gazebo as if she expected a ghost to jump out.
“You okay?” I asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
She startled, her eyes wide. “Yeah. Of course. Why?”
“You look like you’re ready to bolt for the ridge, Nora. If the crowd is too much, we can leave.”
“No!” The word came out like a shot. She cleared her throat, trying for a casual smile that didn’t quite reach her nervous eyes. “I mean no. We should stay. Everyone worked so hard. And the greenhouse, Evan, it’s a miracle for this town. Saffron? Who even thinks of that?”
I did, I thought. Because I wanted you to have a legacy that didn’t have your father’s or mine attached to it.
“It’s a smart move for the valley,” I said instead. “High yield, high value. It’s exactly what Firebrook Valley needs to stand on its own feet.”
Across the square, the townspeople were grinning at us with an intensity that gave me goosebumps. Half the town waved. A few people actually clapped as we passed the cider stand. Firebrook Valley wasn’t as subtle as they thought they were.
“Why is everyone acting like we just won the lottery?” Nora asked, her brow furrowing.
“No idea,” I lied.
Mabel was standing by the saffron-infused cookie tray, pretending very badly to be busy. When she caught my eye, she didn’t just nod. She gave me a discreet, forceful thumbs-up. My heart kicked against my ribs. This is it.
Before I could process the adrenaline, a familiar, loud voice cut through the fiddle music. “Holliston! Tell me there’s actual booze in this valley and not just this fancy lemonade!”
I turned to find my crew—Mateo, Luca, Tomas, and Aisha—looking like bright, shiny lures dropped into a trout stream.
They had flown in that morning after I finally broke down and told them the real reason I needed them in Firebrook Valley.
These four had spent years with me building schools in Peru and rebuilding villages in Greece.
They could help Firebrook Valley make their saffron greenhouse into a successful, town-sustaining business.
“No posting, Kai,” I said before he could even lift his phone, though Kai wasn’t the only one with a camera.
“Oh, come on!” Luca grinned, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “The lighting on this greenhouse is a dream. And this saffron lemonade? We could distribute this in the Hamptons for twenty bucks a bottle.”
“The lemonade, fine,” I said, grabbing his wrist to lower the camera. “But the town stays off the grid. This isn’t a tourist trap. It is a home.”
Nora laughed, her tension easing for a split second as she watched the crew try to negotiate content rights for a cider donut.
“Nora, you’ve been Evan’s home for as long as we’ve known him. He couldn’t mention this place without working you into a story,” Aisha winked at Nora. “We’re so glad to finally be here with you both.”
I pulled Nora closer until her back was against my chest, my chin resting on her head. “I’m lucky enough to be in her orbit.” Over her head, I mouthed, “She doesn’t know. Knock it off.”
The microphone at the gazebo let out a sharp squeal. Tim, the sheriff, stood at the podium looking uncharacteristically solemn in his dress uniform. He presented the plaques, one to Cody, who beat a hasty retreat into the shadows, and one to my father.
Gabe accepted his with practiced grace. He nodded once to the crowd, his eyes scanning the square until they landed on me.
For a split second, he didn’t look like a man measuring outcomes or calculating angles, just a father hoping he had his son’s approval.
I smiled at him and nodded, hoping he would realize I did see how much he’d done for Firebrook Valley even if this plaque was given as a ruse.
The music faded. The crowd shifted, a sea of expectant faces turning toward us. Now or never. My hand slipped into my pocket, my fingers brushing the velvet box.
“Hey,” I whispered to Nora. “Will you walk with me for a minute?”
“Of course,” she said, her voice breathy.
We stepped onto the wooden platform of the gazebo. The string lights above us hummed with a low, electric energy. I looked out at the faces: Mabel, Drew, Bella, the kids from the shop, my crew cheering loudest of all, and our fathers watching from their respective borders.
I wasn’t sure she’d come, but my mother was there, standing off to one side. Present, despite her long history with Firebrook Valley.
For one second, everything went quiet. The music, the crowd, even the lights seemed to dim at the edges. There was just her. The girl by the river. The woman in front of me. The only place I had ever felt like I could stop running.
I took Nora’s hand. It was cold and shaking.
“Thank you all for being here,” I said, my voice projecting across the square. “This festival is a celebration of what happens when a community chooses to grow together. I’m incredibly grateful to be part of it.” I met Mabel’s eyes and gave her a small nod. Thank you.
Then I turned to Nora. “Nora,” I said, my voice dropping to a private, raw frequency. “I hope you do not mind, but there’s something I need to ask you.”
I had imagined this moment more times than I could count, and I’d felt ready, but I wanted this to be perfect for her. I started to reach for the velvet box in my pocket, but Nora let out a sudden, hysterical laugh of disbelief.
“That’s so weird,” she said, her eyes shimmering with tears and a mischievous light. “Because I have something I need to ask you too.”
She reached into her own pocket, and my heart stopped.