Chapter Ten Grace #3
Grace felt heat rise in her chest. She took another sip of coffee, forcing herself to stay quiet. Getting defensive now would only prove his point.
“And your connection to the area?” Abe asked. “The Sullivans go back many generations,” he said, gesturing to Grace.
Grace nodded. His money couldn’t buy roots like that.
“No connections, as far as I know,” Reese said, though Grace sensed he was holding something back.
“How long do you even plan to stay? Sorry,” she quickly added, looking at Abe. “I hope it’s okay for me to ask questions too?”
“Of course and it’s an important question,” Abe said. “You planning to live here, or is this an investment you’ll manage from a distance?”
Grace noticed something flicker across Reese’s face. Not quite discomfort, but a tightening around his eyes that suggested she’d hit something real.
“I’d stay on-site during the renovation,” he said. “I’ve got a caravan I use for projects like this. It’s equipped for long-term stays, so I can oversee the work directly, make sure it’s done right.”
Please. Grace had seen photos of the “caravan.” Calling that thing a caravan was like calling a yacht a rowboat. Custom-built mobile home with solar panels and probably a wine fridge.
“But that doesn’t answer the question: how long would you stay?
” Grace asked. She met his eyes directly.
“I mean, I’ve read about your projects. The wildlife sanctuary in Costa Rica, that eco-lodge in Norway.
You’re there for the renovation, very hands-on, then you bounce the second the ribbon’s cut.
” She kept her tone light, almost teasing, but her eyes stayed cold.
“What’s your usual? Six weeks before you get bored?
Two months before some other shiny project catches your attention? ”
Reese’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened, like he was reassessing her. She wasn’t just some waitress who’d dumped appetizers on him. She’d done her homework.
“That’s fair,” he said finally. “You’re right.
I don’t stay in one place. I haven’t for years.
But there’s a difference between moving on from a completed project and abandoning something half-finished.
Every sanctuary I’ve funded is still operating.
Still thriving. I build teams, I establish endowments, I make sure the infrastructure is there for the long term. ”
“With other people running them,” Grace pointed out.
Zach peered up, looking at his mother with an expression she couldn’t interpret: respect…or embarrassment?
“Yes, with other people running it,” Reese replied. “With people who are better suited to the day-to-day operations than I am.” He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he observed Grace. “In fact, maybe that person can be you?”
They held each other’s gazes, and Grace felt her pulse thrumming in her throat. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said, her voice steady despite the heat in her chest. “But I want to be the one hiring people, not the person being hired.”
Reese’s smile was slight, almost admiring.
But then it turned wolfish. “That’s the real question, though, isn’t it?
Can someone who’s spent their whole career taking orders suddenly start giving them?
Management isn’t just hospitality with a different title.
And just because someone has fond memories of a place doesn’t mean they have the resources to make it work. ”
The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees.
“Oh damn,” Caleb breathed.
Margaret cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should—”
“No, let’s hear it.” Grace leaned across the table.
“Please, Mr. Spencer. Tell us all about how caring isn’t enough without money to back it up.
I’m sure that’s very comforting to the community that has lived here, that has invested their entire lives in this place while you were off saving whales or whatever it is billionaires do between projects. ”
Tressa smiled to herself as she passed with a tray.
Reese held Grace’s gaze for a beat or two, fire in his green eyes like he was enjoying the exchange, then he turned to Abe and Margaret.
“The truth is, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell, I can’t promise I’ll be here every day for the next twenty years.
What I can promise is, if you hand me this island, I’ll protect it.
Long haul. With funding that won’t run out when one bad season hits or when the bank decides the risk isn’t worth it anymore. ”
The jab was subtle, but Grace caught it. The implication that her financial backing was fragile.
Because it was.
“I think we’ve heard enough,” Abe said into the tense silence, clearly trying to move things along. “Any more questions?”
Everyone shook their heads.
Right. Her turn.
She opened her laptop, which held her notes, then reached for her folder, retrieving the soggy print-outs of her financial projections.
Suddenly, faced with Reese’s effortless confidence, it all felt very, very small.
But she’d come this far. And unlike some people, she needed this to work.