Page 25 of The Sugar Maple Inn

“Still think the boat’s better, Mom?” he said.

Grace spat lake water from her mouth and glared at him. “Absolutely. Mild hypothermia is character building.”

Through the spray, Maple Island materialized ahead of them, its autumnal trees dancing wildly in the wind, offering glimpses of the old stone inn’s tower.

My inn, Grace thought, then immediately corrected herself. Hopefully my inn. If I can survive this presentation without vomiting on my competitor.

Luke executed an impressive sweeping turn as they approached the dock, bringing the boat around in a smooth arc that had Grace wondering if he was showing off just a little. The man did love an audience for his maritime skills, even if the audience was currently green around the gills and holding soggy loan documents.

“Nice one, Luke,” Zach said.

“Many years of practice, bud,” he said with obvious pride, then grabbed the dock cleat to hold them steady. “Jesus, look at that sky. It’s really getting bad up there.”

Grace followed his gaze upward, to where the clouds had turned an ominous shade of purple-black that promised serious weather ahead. The wind was picking up too, sending maple leaves swirling around them like confetti at the world’s most chaotic celebration.

Luke hopped out first, tying up the boat, then turned to help Grace onto the dock. Her legs wobbled slightly—whether from the boat ride or from nerves, she couldn’t tell.

“Thanks for the ride, Luke.”

“Anytime.” He handed over her folder and laptop case. “Good luck in there. For what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks.” She managed a smile. “That means a lot.”

“I’ll aim to get back here for four.”

“Sounds good.”

She started walking up the dock toward the forest and the path that led to the inn, Zach dragging his feet behind her. “Come on, Zach! And please, please try to look semi-interested. First impressions matter.”

“First impressions? Mom, I’ve met Abe and Margaret about, like, a million times,” Zach grumbled. “Plus I’m literally only here because I got in a fight and you didn’t trust me to be alone.”

“And whose fault is that?”

He didn’t answer, just kicked at the crisp leaves below. They were quiet as they walked the fifteen minutes to the inn, Grace’s nerves making her mute and Zach…well, Zach was just being Zach. Anyway, it was a good chance to breathe in the stunning surroundings. The island in autumn was absolutely spectacular, the maples that gave the island its name arching overhead, creating a tunnel of red and gold. Ancient oaks and birches filled in the spaces between, their branches creating a canopy overhead that filtered the wind into a constant, gentle rushing sound.

Leaves spiraled down around them as they walked, carpeting the stone path in color. The air smelled of woodsmoke and rain and that particular scent unique to fall.

The trees opened up and there it was.

The Maple Inn.

Grace stopped walking, breath catching despite herself. She’d seen it a thousand times but standing here, about to pitch for it, was different.

The building was Victorian elegance gone slightly wild: three stories of weathered stone and dark wood, gables and turrets that spoke of a time when people built things to last. Wraparound porch with intricate railings, some of the spindles missing or broken. Windows that gleamed in the afternoon light, some with wavy original glass that distorted the reflections. Ivy climbed one side of the building like it was trying to reclaim the whole structure for nature.

It was beautiful. It was imperfect. It was perfect.

“It looks so…old,” Zach said.

“I know. Isn’t it wonderful?” Grace’s voice came out slightly choked. This was it. This was the dream she’d been working toward, saving for, losing sleep over. Right here, real and solid and—

—and probably about to be bought by someone else, her anxiety helpfully supplied.

She looked down at her modest black blazer and the nice blouse she’d dug out from the bottom of her wardrobe. It suddenly felt too small-town. Too “try hard” when she compared it to that helicopter-wielding billionaire. Plus it was damp in places thanks to the choppy boat ride.

Stop it, she told herself firmly. You belong here. You have just as much right to pitch for this inn as him.

“You okay?” Zach asked, giving her a sideways look.