“What about Patrick’s foundation repairs?” Kathleen asked as they reached the stairs.
Percy paused with one hand on the banister. “From what you’ve told me about his plan to work around the room, it sounds like he understands how important it is to preserve this. That’s good.”
They climbed the stairs together, leaving the hidden room to keep its secrets for another night. As they reached the main floor, the sound of Lynda organizing dinner welcomed them back to the present.
But Kathleen knew that her feelings about the house would never be quite the same. She wasn’t just the owner of a Victorian home anymore—she was taking care of a place where brave and caring people had once helped women who had nowhere else to turn.
And somehow, that responsibility felt both scary and right.
Chapter 16
The corporate office of Wilson Enterprises had incredible views of Manhattan, but Patrick stared past the gleaming cityscape toward the western horizon. Two thousand miles beyond the urban sprawl lay Sapphire Bay. He’d been in New York City for three days now, and the familiar rhythm of board meetings, conference calls, and strategic sessions felt totally foreign—like putting on a suit he’d outgrown years ago.
“Granddad, you’re doing it again,” Noah said softly, joining him at the floor-to-ceiling window.
Patrick turned away from the view, focusing on his grandson. Noah had inherited the Devlin drive and intensity, but the stress of the past week had carved new lines around his eyes. His usually immaculate appearance was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened, and Patrick could see the weight of responsibility bearing down on his shoulders.
“Doing what?” Patrick asked, though he knew exactly what Noah meant.
“Looking like you’d rather be anywhere else. I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your time, but?—”
“Noah.” Patrick placed a firm hand on his grandson’s shoulder. “I’m here. I’m committed to helping you fight this. But that doesn’t mean I have to like leaving everything behind in Montana.”
The door to the conference room opened, and Cynthia Whitfield, the chairperson of Wilson Enterprises’ board, entered with her characteristic brisk efficiency. At sixty-eight, she was a force of nature—sharp-eyed, silver-haired, and with a mind that could dissect a corporate strategy faster than most people could read it. Patrick had recruited her to the board fifteen years ago, and she’d been Noah’s strongest ally ever since.
“Patrick, good to have you back where you belong,” she said, extending her hand with a firm grip that hadn’t weakened over the years.
“Cynthia.” Patrick accepted her handshake, noting the slight emphasis on ‘belong.’ She’d never hidden her opinion that his retirement had been premature. “I wish the circumstances were different.”
“Don’t we all.” She gestured toward the conference table, where thick folders and laptops were arrayed like weapons before a battle. “But Meridian has forced our hand. They’re not just after control—they want to gut everything Noah has built.”
As they settled around the polished mahogany table, Patrick’s mind wandered for a moment to Kathleen’s simple kitchen table, where they’d shared coffee and conversation, and where they’d talked about the hidden room. The contrast couldn’t have been sharper.
“Patrick?” Cynthia’s voice cut through his reverie. “I was explaining Meridian’s latest move.”
“Sorry,” he said, straightening in his chair. “The flight’s catching up with me.”
Cynthia’s sharp eyes studied him for a moment before continuing. “They’ve approached Mason Industries about selling their twelve percent stake. If that goes through, Meridian will control forty-two percent of outstanding shares.”
Noah sighed. “Which means they can force a vote to replace the entire board.”
“Including me,” Cynthia added grimly. “They’ve made no secret of the fact that they consider current management ‘ineffective and out of touch with shareholder interests.’ Which is where you come in,” she said, fixing Patrick with her penetrating stare. “Your return to the board would signal to shareholders that we’re serious about protecting Wilson Enterprises’ future. Your reputation in the industry carries weight—especially with the older investors who remember the support you gave Noah when he started the business.”
“I’m not staying on the board permanently,” he told Cynthia. When she sent him one of her ‘are you crazy?’ scowls, he almost laughed. “Have you considered that what the shareholders might need isn’t in the past?”
Cynthia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“People like to know where they stand and what’s happening with their investment,” Patrick said carefully. “They need confidence in the future, not the past. Noah’s leadership has been outstanding, and the company’s financial position is stronger than ever. The shareholders need to know that the money they’ve invested is in good hands.”
“But Meridian is painting us as a family business that’s lost its edge,” Noah said, frustration creeping into his voice. “They’re claiming we’re too comfortable, too risk-averse. Having you back would counter that narrative.”
Cynthia nodded. “People are already speculating about a generational transition. Your presence would demonstrate continuity while still maintaining Noah’s position as CEO.”
Patrick thought about his new life in Sapphire Bay. Underneath the drive that had made his own company successful was something new—a longing for simpler things. Kathleen’s laughter. The satisfaction of working with his hands on the arts center project. Pastor John’s quiet wisdom. Did he really want to leave that behind?
Cynthia leaned forward. “Help us send a message to our shareholders, Patrick. We need to reassure them while exposing Meridian’s true intentions.”
“I need help, Granddad,” Noah said quietly. “I’ve been commuting between Montana and Manhattan for long enough. It wasn’t so bad when it was only Cassie and me at home. But since our children arrived, I’ve missed out on too many milestones. If you rejoin the board of directors, it would take some of the pressure off me.”
