Chapter Ten Grace #2
“The more perspectives the better, I say,” Abe said, clocking Zach’s black eye.
“Now,” Margaret said, “Caleb and Mikkel have been kind enough to offer their services. And you know Ella over there, your trivia host and our local history expert.” Ella gave them a wave.
“Oh, and our niece Tressa, of course,” she said, gesturing to a young woman moving quietly between tables with a tray of food and drinks in her hands.
Tressa had arrived from Ireland three years ago after her husband died.
No family left in the country, no money either.
Abe and Margaret had taken her in, and she worked part time at the inn now, part time as a music teacher at the school.
She didn’t talk much, maybe it was the grief.
But when she sang…wow. Grace had been blown away when Tressa had performed at the Wildflower Fest the summer before.
Just her voice, no other instruments. It had been one of the stillest, most powerful things Grace had ever heard.
And she’d been sure to tell her that after.
She gave Grace a soft smile.
“And Reese you know, of course,” Abe said.
“The hot competition,” she heard Caleb whisper.
Grace nodded. “Mr. Spencer,” she said.
“Hello, Grace. Just Reese is fine.” Reese turned to Zach. “Hey, Zach.”
He put a fist out to Zach. Zach hesitated a moment then halfheartedly fist-bumped the billionaire. She knew her son, could see the struggle on his face between wanting to hate Reese and wanting to ask what kind of cars he owned.
“That’s a beauty of a shiner,” Reese said. “The other guy come out worse, or what?”
Zach shrugged. “Worse. School suspended me for it.”
Grace took in a sharp breath as Abe and Margaret exchanged looks.
“I know the feeling,” Reese said. “Got suspended twice back in eighth grade for throwing punches. Turns out diplomacy’s not a skill you’re born with.”
Grace gave Reese a blistering look. What the hell was he thinking, making her son think fighting was a way to get to the top?
He smiled sheepishly. But he did shut up.
“Right.” Abe’s voice cut through the moment. “Storm’s moving faster than expected. Let’s get this done. Large table over there. Margaret’s got coffee.” He was already heading for the doorway, not waiting to see if they’d follow.
Grace took a breath, adjusted her laptop bag and followed the old man into the dining room. She’d always liked the room, with its dark wood and faded grandeur, vast windows overlooking the lake.
Margaret was already pouring coffee from an antique silver pot. “Zach, honey, there’s hot chocolate if you’d prefer. And help yourself to cookies.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Blackwell.” Zach made a beeline for the refreshments, proving that even teenage surliness had its limits when faced with Margaret’s baking.
“Grace, Reese, sit anywhere,” Margaret added, her smile warmer now that they were away from the formality of introductions. “Though maybe not that chair. The leg’s been wobbly since 1983.”
Reese took the chair at the head of the table. Of course he did. The chair seemed too small for him, his long legs taking up more than their fair share of space beneath the table. He had that relaxed sprawl of a man who knew his size alone made people shift to accommodate him.
Grace took the other head of the table opposite him, trying to stop her hands trembling by jamming them between her knees. Zach sat near her, giving her a rare encouraging look as he devoured a cookie.
“So…” Abe settled into the chair in the middle of the table, Margaret taking the seat next to him as Caleb and Mikkel sat across from them with Ella. “Reese, why don’t you go first? Tell us what you’re thinking.”
Reese didn’t reach for a laptop. Didn’t pull out notes or a presentation folder or any of the carefully prepared materials Grace had spent all night assembling. He just leaned back in his chair, coffee cup in one hand, looking like a wolf getting ready for its first kill.
God, the arrogance of him, sitting there with nothing but a cup of coffee, as though a billion-dollar deal could be closed on posture alone.
This was how rich men operated, Grace realized. No flashy presentations, no desperate proving of worth. Just quiet certainty that their vision was the correct one, backed by the kind of resources that made objections irrelevant. Why bother with PowerPoints when you could simply…make things happen?
It made her meticulously prepared presentation feel suddenly, painfully quaint. Like showing up to a Formula One race on a bicycle.
But Abe and Margaret are old-fashioned too, she reminded herself. They’re not going to be impressed by wealth alone. They’re going to care about substance.
At least, she hoped they would.
Reese put down his coffee and leaned forward, large, scarred hands sprawled on the surface of the table as he looked at everyone.
Grace found her eyes tracking the movement—the way his shoulders shifted under his shirt, the flex of muscle in his forearms. He had nice forearms. Strong, tanned, with a dusting of—
Stop it. Stop it right now.
She dragged her attention back to his actual words.
“The island’s special,” he said simply. “Anyone can see that. The question is, what do you do with special: exploit it or protect it?”
Grace’s jaw tightened. Of course he’d start with the moral high ground.
“I’m thinking wildlife sanctuary,” Reese continued, his voice easy and conversational, like he was discussing weekend plans rather than a property purchase.
“Keep the inn operational but small-scale. The focus shifts from hospitality to conservation. Guided nature experiences, research partnerships with universities, maybe some educational programs.”
Caleb made an interested noise. “Eco-tourism. Very Gwyneth Paltrow goes camping.”
“That kind of operation requires significant capital,” Mikkel commented.
“That’s the upside of having resources,” Reese replied smoothly. “You’ve got the room to do it right, not just turn a profit.”
Must be nice, Grace thought, taking a sip of coffee to keep from saying it out loud.
Abe watched Reese with those sharp captain’s eyes. “And the forest?”
“Untouched. Walking trails, minimal impact. The eagles you’ve got nesting here? Those stay protected. In fact, I’d be looking to install an observation platform. Elevated, so it doesn’t disturb the habitat and gives guests a chance to watch them hunt.”
Despite herself, Grace felt a flicker of…something at Reese’s eagle plan. It wasn’t a terrible idea. The eagles were magnificent, and most people never got to see them up close.
Then she caught herself. No. He’s the competition. Stop finding merit in his plans.
“What about jobs?” Margaret asked.
“Local hires for everything,” Reese said. “Guides, maintenance, hospitality staff. I’m not interested in bringing in outside people. Half the value is in the community’s relationship with the land.”
“See, that’s good,” Caleb said, pointing at Reese with a cookie. “Very smooth.” Grace shot him a look. “But also…very much what we want to hear. If he actually knew the town, he wouldn’t really be wanting to hire any of the reprobates there.”
Mikkel shook his head, then turned to Reese. “Tell me more about your plans for sustainability.”
“Of course,” Reese said. “I want to keep the character but fix the infrastructure. Solar panels hidden on the north slope where guests won’t see them. Geothermal for heating.”
Zach had his phone out under the table—Grace could see the glow—but his eyes kept flicking up to Reese as he talked. He was actually paying attention, which was more than he did in most of his classes, according to his teachers.
Grace found herself watching Reese too, the way he sat there, one ankle crossed over his knee, completely relaxed while discussing millions of dollars like it was pocket change.
The way he gestured with his large hands, the coiled confidence in every line of his body. This was a man who’d never walked into a room wondering if he belonged there.
“The goal,” Reese continued, “is to make it sustainable without making it look like we’re trying to make it sustainable.”
“Very good,” Mikkel said, taking notes.
“Yes, that’s quite the vision,” Ella murmured. “Very aligned with current luxury eco-tourism trends, especially—” She paused as Abe gave her a “stop talking” look.
“You make it all sound easy, Reese,” Abe said cynically. “Just throw money at it and make it sustainable?”
“Like ordering from but with eagles?” Caleb added in a stage whisper.
“Caleb,” Margaret sighed.
“What? I’m asking the hard questions! That’s what panels are for, right? Probing discourse?” He turned to Grace. “See, I’m helping you, darling. Making him work for it.”
“Nothing about this is easy,” Reese said evenly. “But having resources means you can do it right. Take the time, hire the right people, not cut corners because the budget won’t stretch.”
The unspoken implication hung in the air: unlike some people.