Page 31 of The Sugar Maple Inn

Grace didn’t flinch. “Twenty guest rooms, fully booked.”

“And in the off-season?” Reese said, scanning the numbers Grace had laid out. His eyes caught on the revenue projections for December through March. “You said yourself, winter on the lake is brutal. You’ve got occupancy estimated at what? Sixty percent? That’s optimistic for a location that’s only accessible by boat when the weather cooperates.”

Grace’s jaw tightened. “As an outsider, you wouldn’t know this,” she said pointedly, “but plenty of people come to Solace Springs for Christmas. People who want to watch snow fall over the water and sit by a fire and not think about anything except whether they want another mince pie. Snow doesn’t stop boats. I’d run winter packages: bring your family, celebrate the holidays somewhere that isn’t your in-laws’ house.”

The people around the table laughed at that.

Reese tapped the number with his finger. “But you’re projecting full vacation bookings here. What happens in January and February when nobody’s celebrating anything except waiting for spring? These numbers assume steady income, but you’ve got maybe six profitable months and six months of barely breaking even.” He looked up at her. “What’s your buffer when winter sticks around longer than it should? Ice shuts down the lake, nobody’s crossing for days. Then what?”

“The buffer is in not overextending in the first place,” Grace said, her voice tight. “You’re looking at this like it needs to make back millions in the first year. I’m looking at it like it needs to survive. To be here in twenty years, still serving maple syrup pancakes, still making people feel like they’ve found something special.”

“Survival isn’t a business model,” Reese said, even as part of him recognized she had a point. “It’s a hope. What about unexpected costs? That foundation is over a hundred years old. One bad inspection and your whole budget falls apart. What’s your contingency plan?”

“I have a line of credit—”

“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.