Page 90 of The Sugar Maple Inn

“That sounds lovely,” Grace said, cutting him off. “But back here in reality, my mother’s been running the café solo for two days. She’s probably ready to commit justifiable homicide. And Zach returns to school tomorrow. I can’t just drop everything.”

“Sure you can,” Reese said. God, the way he said it. Like it was that simple. Like everyone had a spare life lying around. “I’ll hire help for your mother. A tutor for Zach. He can study from Cuba. The hotel has this excellent—”

“No, Reese.” The words came out sharp. “It’s not possible.”

He looked at Grace like she’d started speaking Klingon. Of course he did. In Billionaire Land, you just threw money at problems until they went away. Hire a mom-replacement! Pack your kid in carry-on! Who needs responsibilities when you have a black AmEx?

But in her world—the real world—you showed up. You did your shift. You made sure your kid got to school with matching shoes and at least one vegetable in his lunch.

“Reese.” Erika tapped her foot like she was sending Morse code for “I will destroy this waitress if she delays you even more. We really must go.”

He hesitated, and for a second Grace thought he might kiss her goodbye. But instead, he just nodded, then strode out.

Grace stood there, watching him walk across the lawn. Though his hair was still mussed from her fingers, his shoulders were already straightening, his phone already glued to his ear, his mind already conquering whatever corporate disaster awaited.

He paused at the helicopter door, looked back. Their eyes met across the lawn, across the universe-sized gap between his life and hers. Then he climbed in, the door closed and the helicopter lifted off in a windstorm that sent leaves scattering.

“Mom,” Zach said, “you did not just turn down a free vacation for us in a Cuban hotel, did you?”

She put her arm around him, watched the helicopter shrink to nothing against the sky. “Yeah, baby. I did.”

Because truth was, real life didn’t come with helicopters and happily-ever-afters. It came with double shifts and grocery-store wine and the knowledge that some towers you just visit.

You don’t get to stay.

Thirty-Five

Reese

Reese stood in what used to be the rehabilitation center of Refugio Paraíso, his wildlife sanctuary on the eastern edge of the Sierra Maestra mountains in Cuba. Just a couple of days before, this building had been operational: veterinary equipment, recovery cages for injured raptors, a real surgery suite. Rangers bringing in hurt animals from across the mountain range. Eco-tourists watching through observation windows as they worked.

Now? Charred beams. A collapsed roof. The surgery suite destroyed. Half the flight cages twisted metal.

Electrical fire. Faulty generator wiring. Started at 2 AM when only the night ranger was on duty, thank God. No casualties. Human or animal. The birds had been moved to temporary housing.

Just millions of dollars in damage and months of work, all because some contractor cut corners on a generator install.

Reese walked through the wreckage, boots crunching on broken glass. His site manager Carlos trailed behind with a tablet.

“The vet equipment’s salvageable,” Carlos said in Spanish. “We can rebuild in four months if we prioritize. Insurance covers maybe sixty percent.”

Reese nodded but wasn’t really listening. He was thinking of Grace, back in Solace Springs. Even an email from Erika confirming records she’d dug up showed the Spencer family had settled in America, on Maple Island, in the 1800s, couldn’t distract him. His phone rang and he saw it was his mom.

He stepped outside, signal flickering in and out, and answered her call. “Reese! You’re alive then.”

He exhaled. “Hey, Ma.”

“Saw the photos of the fire. Looked bad. You all right?”

“Yeah. No one hurt. Just…ash. And wreckage.”

“Mm-hmm.” Her tone said she wasn’t buying the casual tone. “And that waitress you said nothing and everything about when I called you while you were at that inn?”

Reese hesitated. “She’s fine.”

“That’s all I get? ‘She’s fine’? I can tell from the way you talked about her that you like her, so I expect more than one syllable.”

He smiled faintly. His mom knew him too damn well. He didn’t answer.