“Don’t you want Magnolia Key to stay like it is?” she asked, setting her fork down without taking a bite. “A quaint little town where people know each other and come together in times of crisis? Like they did after the hurricane.”
His eyes met hers, and she saw frustration there, but also something else—a need to make her understand.
“Of course I do,” he said. “I love this island. I always have.”
“Then why change it?” She gestured toward the window. “Look at this view. Look at how everyone in this restaurant knows everyone else. This is special. This is what makes Magnolia Key what it is.”
He sighed. “Places change, Beverly. They have to. If they don’t grow, they die.”
“Growth doesn’t have to mean high-rise buildings blocking the view of the water,” she countered.
“No, but it does mean progress. Development. New opportunities. Jobs.” He leaned forward. “The younger generation is leaving, Beverly. They’re going to the mainland for jobs, for better opportunities. We need to give them reasons to stay.”
She hadn’t thought about it that way. “But at what cost?”
“That’s what we need to figure out. There has to be a balance.”
She took a small bite of her fish, chewing slowly as she considered his words. When she looked up, she found Cliff watching her.
“You know,” she said softly, “you don’t have to prove anything to anyone…”
His expression shifted, a flash of something vulnerable crossing his features before he masked it.
“…except maybe to yourself,” she finished.
He stared at her, his fork suspended in midair. “What do you mean?” His voice was quiet, careful.
She set down her own fork and reached for her wineglass, taking a small sip before answering. “Now that I know what happened with your father and how he treated you…” She hesitated, then decided to push forward. “Are you sure this development isn’t about proving him wrong? Showing that you can succeed where he said you’d fail?”
His jaw tightened. He set his fork down with a controlled movement that betrayed the tension in his hand. “This isn’t about my father.”
“Isn’t it?” she asked gently. “At least a little bit?”
He looked away, his gaze finding the darkening water outside. “Maybe it was at first,” he admitted after a long moment. “When I first started planning it. I wanted to show him what I could do. Show the town. But now… now it’s about more than that.”
“What is it about now?”
“It’s about building something that matters. Something that lasts.” He turned back to her. “And yes, maybe part of me still wants to prove that I can do something meaningful. Not just to my father’s ghost, but to myself. Is that so wrong?”
“No,” she said finally. “It’s not wrong to want to build something meaningful. But does it have to be this particular development? In this particular place?”
“I’ve put a lot of work into this project,” he said. “Years of planning.”
“I understand that.” She paused. “But after everything that’s happened—the hurricane, seeing how the community came together—are you sure this is still what Magnolia Key needs?”
A shadow of doubt crossed his face, so briefly she might have imagined it. “I believe it is.”
They ate in silence for a few moments. She searched for the right words, wanting to make him see her perspective without pushing him away again.
“The night of the town council meeting,” she began, “you said something about bringing Magnolia Key into the future.”
“I remember.”
“But what if the future of Magnolia isn’t about big developments and high-rise buildings? What if it’s about preserving what makes this place special while still allowing for growth?”
He frowned slightly. “What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know exactly,” she admitted. “But maybe there’s a way to develop that property that honors the character of the island. Something that adds to what we have without fundamentally changing it.”
