“I can imagine. How’s Noah holding up?”
Patrick glanced at the briefcase full of documents on his desk. The financial projections they were working through would determine the fate of Wilson Enterprises. “He’s stressed but fighting hard. Meridian Capital wants complete control, and they’re willing to pay premium prices to get it.”
“And the board? Are they supporting Noah?”
“Most of them, yes.” Patrick ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “They’ve officially asked me to rejoin the board of directors.”
The silence that followed stretched longer than he’d expected. When Kathleen spoke, her voice was carefully neutral. “Oh. I see.”
“It would mean I could help Noah fight this takeover more effectively and help with whatever happens next.” Patrick sat down. “But it would also mean?—”
“Staying in Manhattan,” Kathleen finished quietly.
“Not necessarily.” The words tumbled out faster than he’d intended. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Board meetings happen once a month, sometimes twice if there’s a crisis. Most of the work could be done remotely using conference calls and reviewing emailed documents. I could base myself in Montana and fly back when I’m needed here.”
Another pause. Patrick held his breath.
“That sounds complicated,” Kathleen said finally. “Do you want to do this? I mean, setting aside what Noah needs or what the board expects—what do you want?”
What did he want? A week ago, he would have said he wanted nothing more than to finish Kathleen’s foundation repairs and spend quiet evenings discovering more about Florence Buckley’s hidden room. He wanted to work with Pastor John on the tiny home project and see the arts center officially open. He wanted to watch Kathleen’s face light up when she talked about the historical preservation work, and maybe, just maybe, find the courage to tell her how he felt about her.
“I want to be in two places at once,” he admitted with a rueful laugh. “I want to help Noah because he’s my grandson and he needs me. But I also want to come home to Sapphire Bay. To you.”
The admission hung in the air between them, more honest than he’d intended to be over the phone.
“Patrick,” Kathleen’s voice was soft, almost whisper-quiet. “I need you to know something. Whatever you decide, I’ll understand. Family comes first—I learned that lesson years ago when my parents needed me. But I also want you to be honest with yourself about what rejoining that board really means.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve watched enough people get pulled back into their old lives to know how it happens. It starts with one emergency meeting, then another critical decision, then before you know it, you’re exactly where you used to be.” She paused. “I care about you too much to watch you disappear into a life that makes you unhappy.”
Patrick’s throat tightened. She was right, of course. He’d seen it happen to other retired executives—the gradual slide back into old patterns, old pressures, old versions of themselves they’d worked so hard to leave behind.
“Chloe has some exciting news about the documents,” Kathleen continued, clearly giving him time to process what she’d said. “The preliminary authentication is complete, and everything checks out. She thinks we might be looking at one of the first organized underground networks in the American West. The Smithsonian wants to create an exhibition.”
“That’s incredible, Kathleen. You must be thrilled.”
“I am, but it also feels surreal. Six months ago, the most exciting thing in my life was trying a new muffin recipe. Now I’m sitting on what might be a major historical discovery, and the man I...” She stopped abruptly.
“The man you what?” Patrick prompted gently.
“The man I’ve grown very fond of is thousands of miles away, trying to decide between two different versions of his life.”
Patrick’s heart hammered against his ribs. She’d come as close as she dared to admitting her feelings, and he owed her the same honesty.
“Kathleen, you need to know that you’re not just part of the life I built in Sapphire Bay. You’ve become the center of it. When I think about coming home, I’m not thinking about my house or the church projects or even the town. I’m thinking about you.”
The sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line told him she hadn’t expected such directness.
“But I can’t abandon Noah when he needs me most,” he continued, “He’s not just my grandson—he’s the son I helped raise after his father died. If I don’t help him now, he might lose Wilson Enterprises, and I’m not sure I could live with that.”
“So what are you going to say to the board?”
Patrick looked out at the glittering lights of Manhattan, then at the documents scattered across his desk. “I don’t know yet. I was supposed to let them know what I was doing a few days ago, but I needed more time to consider my options.”
“Well, whatever you decide,” Kathleen told him, “I’m sure it will work out for the best.”
They talked for another few minutes about safer topics—Natalie’s pregnancy, the café’s busy afternoon, the progress on cataloging Florence’s documents. But underneath the casual conversation, Patrick felt the weight of the decision he had to make.
