His normally stern expression softened with something like pride. “Open the doors.”
The heavy glass doors swung wide, revealing a small crowd gathered outside. Sunlight streamed into the entrance hall as visitors began to filter inside, their excited voices filling the space. Children rushed toward the interactive displays while parents followed more slowly, taking in the impressive center with appreciative glances.
The first waveof visitors brought familiar faces. Max and Laney Bock from the brewery arrived early. “We’re forming a coalition,” Max explained, keeping his voice low. “Local businesses working together to protect each other. Whathappened to you, to us, to Hampton Orchard—it’s all connected.”
“The FBI agent investigating this mentioned they’re looking at similar patterns in other communities,” Laney added. “Whoever ‘they’ are, they’ve done this before.”
Her brother Ash and his mate Eliana joined the growing circle, baby Eli secure in his father’s arms. “The resistance you faced trying to build something good for the community,” Ash said, shaking his head. “Same playbook they used against Eliana’s orchard.”
The conversations buzzed with a mix of celebration and vigilance: “Porter’s investors are running scared—publicly distancing themselves...” “The renovation sign on his office isn’t fooling anyone...” “But who are ‘they’? Who was Vance so afraid of?”
Through it all, Ivy noticed something remarkable about Henry. He wasn’t hiding in corners or growling at well-wishers. When a little girl approached to ask about bears, he knelt to her level, to explain how cubs learn to fish.
Her father, Corey Bright, silver-haired and commanding even in retirement, went straight to Henry with an extended hand. “Takes courage to fight for something you initially opposed.”
Henry accepted the handshake, and Ivy saw him straighten slightly under her father’s praise. “Ivy’s vision was worth protecting.”
Holly caught Ivy’s arm, pulling her aside. “Look at your ranger,” she whispered. “He hasn’t fled to the forest once today.”
“He’s trying,” Ivy said, watching Henry endure Reed’s enthusiastic monologuing about his favorite guitar solos. “It’s not easy for him.”
“The best things rarely are,” Holly observed.
Maya Wilson arrived wearing a volunteer badge. The activist who’d once viewed the nature center as another assault on the wilderness now saw it as a defense.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see the difference between development and preservation sooner,” Maya said.
The shadow of the conspiracy lingered throughout the celebration. But the most surprising conversation came when Lisa Mercer arrived. The architect who’d lost the bid approached with visible nervousness. “Dr. Bright,” she began, then stopped, taking a breath. “Ivy. I owe you an apology.”
Henry shifted closer. “For what, specifically?” Ivy asked.
“For letting professional jealousy cloud my judgment. For those bitter comments after you won the bid. For...” Lisa glanced at Henry. “For being at your construction site that morning for the wrong reasons.”
“The scaffolding,” Henry said flatly.
“I was taking photos,” Lisa admitted. “For my portfolio. Your innovative design techniques—I wanted to study them. I should have asked permission, should have been there during proper hours, but my pride...” She shook her head. “Porter approached me after I lost the bid. Wanted me to ‘partner’ with him to undermine your project.”
Ivy felt Henry tense but kept her voice calm. “What did you tell him?”
“At first, I was tempted. He played on my resentment, kept asking questions about your timeline, your security measures. But when I realized he wanted inside information to sabotage you, not compete fairly, I refused.”
“But you didn’t warn us,” Henry pointed out.
Lisa’s shoulders sagged. “I thought it was just sour grapes. Another bitter developer mad about losing. I never imagined...” She pulled out her phone. “I’ve been cooperating with the FBI. These are emails where he tried to recruit me. I should have spoken up sooner.”
Looking at the emails, Ivy could see Porter’s manipulation tactics—flattery mixed with promises of future projects, subtle hints about the “right people” to know in the industry. The same techniques he’d probably used on Vance.
“We all make mistakes,” Ivy said finally. “What matters is what we do next.”
Chapter
Twenty-Three
The crowd pressedin from all sides, voices overlapping in enthusiastic conversations. Henry’s chest tightened with each passing minute. His bear prowled restlessly beneath his skin, unused to so many humans in such close proximity. The formal ranger uniform that had felt appropriate this morning now seemed to constrict his breathing.
He needed air. Space. Henry slipped through the crowd, a skill that served him as well in social situations as it did tracking elk through dense undergrowth. He pushed through the door to the observation deck, breathing deeply as cool mountain air replaced the recycled atmosphere inside.
His hands found the railing, gripping hard enough to feel the wood grain pressing into his palms. Below him stretched the wildlife corridor—properly marked now. They’d won this small battle, saved this piece of wilderness from those who would exploit it. Pride swelled in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation when it came to human achievements. He’d spent years believing the only victories worth claiming were those won in solitude. But now…
