Patrick studied his grandson’s face. He knew how much Noah had sacrificed to continue to lead his company after he’d met Cassie. “I’m happy to stay here for a few weeks,” Patrick said. “But I’ll need some time to think about rejoining the board. It’s a big commitment.”
Cynthia’s eyebrows rose. “Time is something we don’t have much of, Patrick. Each day gives Meridian more opportunity to solidify its position.”
“I understand the urgency,” Patrick replied firmly. “But this decision affects more than just Wilson Enterprises. I have commitments in Montana. People who are depending on me. Staying for longer than two weeks, or even commuting back and forth, is something I didn’t think I’d ever do.”
“What commitments could possibly be more important than this?” Cynthia asked, her tone suggesting she couldn’t imagine any reasonable answer.
Patrick thought about how to explain his work with the church and the tiny home project, Kathleen’s foundation repairs, and the promise he’d made to Pastor John. How could he articulate the quiet satisfaction of building something with his own hands, or the way Kathleen’s smile had begun to feel like coming home?
“I’ve built a life there,” he said simply. “A good life. With people I care about. I made the mistake of working too many hours when Noah and Jack were boys. It’s time I enjoyed my retirement and the life I’ve created in Sapphire Bay.”
He wanted to tell Noah not to make the same mistakes he’d made with his family. But with Cynthia here, it wasn’t the right time or place to discuss something so personal.
Noah sent Patrick an understanding smile. “It’s okay, Granddad. I understand what you’re saying. I appreciate you coming back with me for this. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want a permanent role on the board.”
“Of course it does,” Cynthia said to Noah, gesturing toward the windows and the city beyond. “This is your legacy. It’s everything you built, everything you fought for. Your granddad needs to be seen to be as committed as you are to the future of your business.”
Noah shook his head. “If there’s one thing Granddad has taught me, it’s that a business isn’t just about what you build. It’s about who you become in the process.”
The conference room fell silent except for the distant hum of traffic fifty-two floors below. Patrick could see the doubt in Cynthia’s eyes. She’d expected Noah to back her up and for Patrick to stay in Manhattan—the way he always had.
“I’ll give you my answer in two days,” Patrick said finally. “But I want you both to understand something. If I do this, if I come back to the board, it’s not because I think this is more important than the life I’ve built in Sapphire Bay. It’s because Noah is my grandson, and I’ll do everything I can to help him.”
As he stood to leave, Patrick caught sight of his reflection in the window—a man in an expensive suit surrounded by the trappings of corporate power. But on top of that was the image of the man he’d become in Montana: hands dirty from honest work, heart full of simple pleasures, and sleeping soundly because he’d spent his days doing something more rewarding than outmanoeuvring the opposition.
Walking toward the elevator, Patrick pulled out his phone and scrolled to Kathleen’s number. He started to type a text message, then stopped. What could he say? That he was torn between two worlds? That he missed her laugh more than he’d expected? Or that the locket he’d given her felt like a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep?
Instead, he simply typed: Thinking of you. Hope you’re well.
As the elevator carried him down toward the streets of Manhattan, Patrick wondered if choosing between love and loyalty was always this complicated, or if he’d simply forgotten how much courage both required.
Chapter 17
The early morning silence of The Lakeview Café wrapped around Kathleen like a familiar embrace. She’d been awake since four-thirty, her mind too restless for sleep, too full of thoughts about Florence Buckley and the hidden room beneath her house. By six o’clock, she was in the café, baking delicious food for her customers.
Two days had passed since Percy’s visit, two days of careful planning and phone calls with Chloe about the next steps for preserving the documents they’d discovered. The responsibility of looking after everything weighed heavily on her mind. The fragile papers and faded records weren’t just historical artifacts—they were the stories of women who had nowhere else to turn, women whose courage had been quietly documented and then hidden away for over a century.
Kathleen pulled flour and sugar from the pantry, then reached for the eggs and butter from the refrigerator. Today she’d planned to make her grandmother’s lemon muffins and a batch of chocolate chip cookies for the afternoon crowd. The rhythmic motions of measuring and mixing had always been therapeutic, but today they felt almost meditative.
As she creamed butter and sugar together, Kathleen thought about the women Florence had helped. Young, frightened, and desperate, they’d found sanctuary in what was now her home. The hidden room had been their refuge, and Florence had given them something even more precious than shelter—new identities, new beginnings, and new hope.
The familiar chime of the café door surprised her. She glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. It was only seven o’clock. There was still another half hour before opening time.
“Mom?”
Kathleen relaxed as Natalie pushed through the door, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, paint still visible under her fingernails. She looked tired, as though she’d been working through the night again.
“Honey, what are you doing here so early?” Kathleen set down her wooden spoon and studied her daughter’s face. There were shadows under Natalie’s eyes and, if Kathleen wasn’t mistaken, Natalie had some news to share.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Natalie said, sliding onto one of the stools at the counter. “I’ve been painting since three this morning. The exhibition pieces are finally coming together, but...” She trailed off, running her hands through her hair.
“But?” Kathleen prompted gently, reaching for a clean mug and the coffeepot.
“I feel like I’ve been living in a bubble for the past few weeks. I’ve been completely absorbed in my work while the world kept spinning around me.” Natalie accepted the steaming cup gratefully. “Gabe’s been incredible, looking after Eddie and everything else while I’ve been lost in my studio. I barely know what day it is half the time.”
Kathleen smiled, remembering her own periods of intense focus when she’d been younger. “That’s what happens when you’re creating something important. How many paintings do you have left to finish?”
“Just two more, and some final touches on a couple of others.” Natalie took a sip of coffee and sighed. “Lorenzo’s been calling almost daily, making sure everything will be ready for shipping. The exhibition opens in six weeks.”
