Page 39 of The Sugar Maple Inn

“I’m sorry for going after you the way I did,” he went on. “With the budget questions, the capacity issues. I know it felt like I was trying to tear you down.”

Definitely Ted Bundy of the business world.

“But you were trying to tear me down, right?” she asked, giving him a cynical look.

“Maybe, a little.” A slight smile. “But I wouldn’t have bothered if I didn’t respect what you were trying to do. I only go hard on people I think are worth the fight.”

Grace stared at him, trying to figure out if this was some kind of strategy. Soften her up before the cook-off, throw her off her game with unexpected compliments.

“Well, your presentation was…professional,” she managed, turning back to her squash. “The conservation angle was smart.” She sighed, putting down her knife. “Though I have to ask, how were you so chill with your presentation? Is it a billionaire thing?”

Reese laughed. “A billionaire thing?”

“I mean—” Grace gestured around the kitchen, then at him. “You showed up here with no notes, no laptop, just…talking. Like buying an inn on an island is an everyday occurrence for you. And now we’re stuck overnight in a storm and you’re just,” she waved her hand at his general demeanor, “fine with it. Meanwhile, I’m over here having a small internal crisis about my entire life.”

Reese paused in his prep work, his knife stilling on the cutting board. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s strategy. People see someone who looks uncertain, they smell blood in the water. So I walk in like I’ve already won, like the outcome’s inevitable, and half the time they believe me before I even open my mouth.”

“Easy for you to say when you probably do win everything.”

His expression hardened. “Hasn’t always been that way. You think I got where I am by showing people when I’m stressed or uncertain? Fake it long enough to look like you’ve got it handled. Worked for me since I was a gangly kid in Thunder Bay bluffing my way through parent-teacher interviews. It buys you time to figure shit out while everyone else assumes you know what you’re doing.”

There was a bitterness in his voice that surprised her. This felt more real than anything else he’d said that day.

“So right now?” Grace asked. “The laid-back vibe when it comes to being stuck here overnight. That fake too?”

“You kidding me? Not fake at all. I’m loving the excuse to stop. To meet new people, sit in an old inn that actually has character instead of another sterile hotel room. Cook something with my hands instead of ordering room service.” He went back to his prep, but his voice stayed open. “Most of my life lately is airports and conference calls and places that seem identical whether you’re in Toronto or Tokyo. This?” He looked around the kitchen, at the old copper pots hanging from hooks, the worn butcher’s block counters. “This is real. I don’t really get a lot of real anymore.”

Grace felt warmth bloom in her chest then shoved it down.

Ted Bundy of the business world, remember.

She focused on her squash, cutting it into precise cubes. The kitchen fell into a companionable silence, just the sound of knives on cutting boards and the storm howling outside.

She took a chance to sneak a glance at Reese and the concentration on his face as he seasoned the meat. It was doing things to her ability to maintain professional distance.

“So,” Reese said, breaking the silence as he reached for the juniper berries, “Zach seems like a good kid.”

“He is, most of the time. The fighting stuff, though…” She sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Always is at that age.” Reese started crushing the berries with the flat of his knife, the sharp piney scent filling the air. “Presume he’s got beef with some kid?”

“Yep. Some rich kid who keeps picking at him. Stupid stuff about me working at the café, about not having a dad around. Real spineless playground bullshit, you know?”

Grace noticed Reese’s hands curl into fists. “Yep,” he said grimly, “I know. I was a lot like Zach when I was his age. Once because some asshole made fun of my mom’s job. Second time because the same asshole decided to double down on being an asshole.” He looked up, catching her eye. “Some things are worth getting suspended for.”

“That’s…actually exactly what Zach said. That some things matter enough to fight for.”

“Smart kid. Got that from somewhere.” The compliment was casual, but Grace felt it land anyway.

“Thing is, kids like that live for the reaction,” she continued, “and they know Zach’ll give it to them. I keep telling him to ignore them, just walk away, but…” She shrugged helplessly. “He’s got too much of his mother’s pride, I guess. Won’t back down when someone’s pushing him around, even when he should. So he goes and gets himself into trouble defending himself.” She frowned. “I sometimes wonder if having his dad around would’ve helped, you know? Even if his dad is a jerk.” She peered up at Reese. “I heard your dad died when you were young?”

Reese met her gaze. “Yeah. When I was ten.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. That must have been so tough for you.”