Chapter Eleven Reese #2
“That’ll cover what, one major repair? Two if you’re lucky?” Reese leaned forward. “What happens when the septic system fails or you find out the whole tower needs to be reframed? What happens when you’ve invested everything and it’s not enough?”
The room had gone quiet. Zach was staring at him with open hostility. Margaret looked troubled.
Had he taken it too far? But then wasn’t that how he’d come so far?
The truth was, he didn’t doubt Grace had more guts than half the suits he dealt with throughout his life.
Hell, she’d probably handle most crises better than executives who made ten times what she did.
But guts didn’t pay for new septic systems and determination couldn’t fix a furnace when you were dead broke.
“Listen,” he said with a sigh, “I’ve seen good folks lose everything trying to keep up with the numbers on a place like this. It’s not just about being smart or tough. It’s about having deep enough pockets when things go sideways.”
Abe nodded. The old man got it. “Reese makes a good point, Grace. So?”
“What happens is I figure it out,” she said, struggling now. “The same way I’ve figured out everything else in my life. By working harder and not giving up.”
“But ‘figuring it out’ isn’t a solid business plan,” Reese remarked, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms.
Grace glared at him. The heated look on her face made him want to jump onto the table, trample all over it and pull her against him.
“It’s called resilience,” Grace shot back.
“Grace, you don’t have to—” Margaret started.
“No, it’s fine, Margaret.” Grace’s eyes hadn’t left Reese’s face.
“Mr. Spencer wants to know if I’m prepared for things to go wrong.
The answer is yes. I’ve been preparing my whole life.
I’ve waitressed through college while my friends partied.
I’ve raised a kid alone while building a career.
I’ve saved every penny for years while other people bought new cars and took vacations.
So yes, I know about things going wrong.
I know about making it work anyway. What I don’t know is what it’s like to walk away when things get hard because there’s always another project, another island, another place to start over. ”
Reese felt her words land, felt the truth of them settle uncomfortably in his chest. Because she wasn’t wrong.
When things got complicated, when places stopped being projects and started being commitments, he moved on.
To Europe, to Africa, to wherever the next challenge beckoned.
Never staying long enough for it to hurt when he left.
Just like his mom always warned him would happen. You’re building things, yes. But are you building a life?
He shoved the thought away. “That was real, I’ll give you that,” he said softly. “But hearts don’t keep the lights on.”
“I think,” Mikkel said into the silence, “that was quite the presentation, Grace.”
“Very passionate,” Ella added, winking at Grace.
“We’d definitely come stay if you owned it!” one of the guests who’d overheard called over.
Caleb was studying Grace with undisguised approval. “Yep. Sorry, Reese, but I’m absolutely Team Grace now. That autumn vision? The family-style meals? Chef’s kiss.”
And that was the problem, Reese realized. She’d made them feel it. The sketches, the passion, the vision of maple syrup pancakes and mismatched quilts and October magic. She’d painted a picture of a place people would love.
A place that deserved better than him tearing apart its foundation looking for something his dad had written about.
A place that deserved someone like her. Someone who would actually stay.
But he couldn’t walk away. Not when he was this close. Not when the cryptic note in his dad’s journal had pointed him here. To this island. This building. Something hidden beneath the foundations that his ancestors thought was important enough to keep away from prying eyes.
And he couldn’t lose because Reese Spencer never lost.
As though agreeing, thunder rumbled in the distance, loud enough to make Reese’s teeth rattle.
Everyone at the table flinched. Outside, the trees went from swaying to full-on thrashing, branches whipping like they were fighting for their lives.
The lake had turned black, whitecaps forming so fast it looked like the water was boiling.
Christ. That had come up fast.
Abe pushed back from the table and moved to the window, hands shoved in his pockets as he studied the storm with a silence that made Reese’s instincts kick in. The old captain wasn’t just concerned. He was calculating.
“Lake’s looking bad,” Abe said finally. “Real bad. Can’t see any boat crossing in this. No helicopter either,” he added, peering over his shoulder at Reese. “Visibility’s dropping too fast.”
Right on cue, Grace’s phone lit up on the table. She snatched it like it might have good news, but Reese watched her face drain of color as she read whatever was on the screen.
“It’s Luke,” she said, her voice tight. “He can’t cross. Says there’s a squall line moving through. Winds gusting to fifty knots.” Her eyes lifted to Abe, then Margaret. “Could last through the night, he says.”
Margaret let out a sigh that spoke of decades spent weathering storms on this island. “Well, that does it then. Looks like you’ll be staying the night.”