Chapter 19 Max
NINETEEN
Max
Don’t react. Keep a straight face. Pretend it’s any other business meeting.
I stare at the proposal and feel the specific frustration of a man who has just been lowballed on something that matters. This conference room smells like recycled air and burnt coffee, stifling and unpleasant.
The offer for the Magnolia Grand — my childhood home, my parents’ dream, the place I adored as a kid — is laughably small. Lowball would be a compliment.
I clear my throat. “Not quite what I had in mind, Richard.”
He and the other men around the table blink, expressionless. My parents have known these men for decades. Business is business, but I’d expected they’d at least cut me a fair deal on my family’s resort.
Apparently I expected too much.
“We’d hoped to offer more, but the economy’s a little soft.” He continues in a grating, nasal voice and I tune him out.
“I’ll take it under advisement with my family and our counsel.” I stand and smile, imagining Tate’s colorful response. “We’ll be in touch.”
Handshakes all around, and within five minutes I’m in the parking lot, sitting in my car, blood considerably hotter than the interior. I swear a few times while stabbing the ignition button.
My phone rings.
“Hey. How’d it go?”
Natalia. “Terrible. Lowball offer.”
She grunts. “You knew all along we’re a weird property. Historic yet quirky. Not huge but not a mom-and-pop either. It’s going to be a tough sell.”
“It's only been a couple of months. I'll work something out.”
There's silence on the line. I watch the interstate unspool ahead of me and think about my office back in New York on the forty-third floor, the clients I've spent fifteen years building relationships with, the particular rhythm of a city that never lets you rest. I've always found comfort in that rhythm.
I’ve been telling myself that all this was temporary. Told myself I'd feel like myself again the moment I landed back at JFK.
I'm not sure I believe that anymore.
“I was thinking about something, actually,” Natalia says.
“Yeah?” I’m glad to focus on something other than my in-traffic existential crisis. Plus, my sister sometimes has the wildest ideas. Also the best ones.
“I’ve had a plan all along and you haven’t taken me seriously.
Why don’t you and I run the place ourselves for a while?
Send Mom and Dad on that round-the-world cruise she’s always wanted.
We continue the renovations, get the numbers up, sell it for what it’s actually worth.
Or don’t sell it. Whatever. Tate will help.
We’ll press Remy into service when he’s not on the boat. ”
“I dunno.” I back out of the space. “It’s not the worst idea.”
“It’s a great idea and you know it. What else do you have in mind? Going back to your business in New York? Boring.”
“A business that’s been humming along by itself for the past several weeks while I’ve been here, and making money.”
“Exactly.” She pauses. “Think about it. You can stay — not at the resort, but maybe at Mom and Dad’s if they go on that cruise — and we work our magic.
This way you don’t have to fully commit forever.
Just long enough to do it right.” Another pause, and I can hear her getting ready to deploy the real ammunition.
“Also, you can keep spending time with your new friend. Who I’m having lunch with tomorrow, by the way. ”
The mention of Lauren brings a grin to my face before I can stop it. “Where are you taking her?”
“Probably the Haunted Hearth. She hasn’t had their chicken salad yet.”
As I accelerate onto the interstate, Natalia’s idea takes hold.
I’ve got more than enough to send Mom and Dad on a cruise.
I could cash out some stocks for the renovation if needed, or secure a loan.
Money isn’t the problem. The question is time, and whether staying in Cypress Grove for another six months to a year is something I actually want to do.
Six months ago I’d have said absolutely not.
Today, I’m not so sure.
Dad is at his most difficult at eight in the morning. I know this. I’ve known this for thirty-five years.
“What makes you two think you can run this place?” he growls.
Natalia rests her hand on my forearm — her gentle signal for slow down — and I take a breath.
“You built this yourself,” I say, “and you get every bit of credit for that. But your opinion isn’t the only correct one here, Dad.”
He stiffens.
“I came here wanting to make you proud,” I say. “Get you the best retirement possible. And the offer I got yesterday isn’t that.” I look at him. “I let you down, and I’m sorry. But I think I have a better plan.”
He’s quiet, which almost scares me.
Natalia steps in. “I’ve been helping run this resort since I was seventeen. And even if Max hasn’t been here day-to-day, he’s a great businessman. You paid enough for that MBA, didn’t you?”
“Sure the hell did,” Dad grumbles.
“Angus.” Mom rests her hand on his arm. “Why don’t we let them try? We’ve overspent on renovations. Let’s not dip any further into retirement.”
Dad looks at me. Then Natalia. Then back at me. “We’ve got two options. Keep going the way we have been, which is bleeding cash. Or I step aside.” He pauses and I hold my breath.
Finally, he reaches across the table and extends his hand. “It’s all yours.”
Natalia squeals and goes to hug him. I shake Dad’s hand, and something coiled in my chest releases.
I’m staying.
When Natalia excuses herself while sporting the satisfied smile of someone who has been right from the beginning and is showing extraordinary restraint, Mom slides into the chair beside Dad, eyes twinkling. Dad takes his coffee and wanders off to find the truck keys.
“I heard your friend is also staying,” she says.
“Her name’s Lauren.”
“I know. She’s lovely.” She looks positively gleeful. “Tell me everything.”
I tell her some of it. Not everything — some things are Lauren’s to keep. The photographs. The way she’d looked at the springs that first night like she was seeing something she’d been searching for without knowing it. The way she strokes my hair in our quiet moments.
“She doesn’t have anywhere she needs to be?” Mom says, her brow furrowing with concern.
“No.”
“The last woman you were serious about left without warning. Lauren has some wanderlust. Which isn’t a bad thing, but—.”
“Lauren is nothing like Adriana.” The words come out with more certainty than I expect.
“Adriana was keeping things from me. Lauren…” I stop.
Think about how to say it. “With Adriana, things were okay. I was content. With Lauren it’s different.
From the moment I saw her there was a pull I couldn’t account for and it hasn’t gone away. ”
I pause. “I also felt that way once before, a long time ago, about this place. And then I left anyway.”
Mom looks at me steadily.
“I’m not leaving this time,” I say.
She squeezes my hand. “Then don’t leave her wondering how you feel.”
“I don’t quite understand what she does for a living. Social media something?” Mom asks. “Can she do that from here?”
“She’s basically a photographer.” I wave my hand.
Then something clicks. “Actually, you’ve sparked an idea.
The resort needs a real marketing push. Lauren knows algorithms, content, brand positioning, all of it.
And her photography, hmm. I need to ask her about this. We could build something together.”
Mom’s expression does something careful. “Have you asked her?”
“Not yet. I want to think it through first.” I pause. “Make sure it’s actually a good idea and not just me being excited.”
“Good,” Mom says simply. “Think it through. And bring her to dinner this week. Just the four of us — I don’t want to overwhelm her with the whole family again so soon.”
I drive back to the resort with my to-do list growing by the minute, but my mind is on Lauren. At Jonathan's dinner she'd said we — casual, unplanned, like it was already true. Neither of us had followed up on that conversation properly. I was looking forward to fixing that.
The limestone heart is in my shirt pocket, but I don't remember putting it there this morning.
I'd always dismissed the magic of Cypress Grove. I was starting to think I'd been wrong about it.