A door opened down a hallway, and Jo poked her head out, waving me toward her. I headed toward the office, slipping past her as she closed the door behind us.
“Take a seat,” she said, gesturing to the open chair on the other side of her desk while settling into her own swiveling chair.
I slid into the chair. A laptop sat between us. On the wall behind her were framed photos of local events, newspaper clippings, and a sign that saidThe Deadline Is Always Closer Than It Appears. There was a bookcase off to the side with more framed photos of Jo and her husband, books on journalism, and stacks of old newspapers. I couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corner of my mouth. Who better to run the local paper than the town busybody?
Jo slipped into the chair across from me, running her fingers along the keyboard of her laptop. “I’m just going to take notes while we talk, if you don’t mind?”
“Right, of course,” I said. “And again, thanks for doing this.”
“When Pete’s favorite grandson says he’d like to do an interview,” she said, a thin eyebrow arching, “what else am I supposed to be but intrigued?”
I cleared my throat, a little nervous to be on the other end of that piercing gaze all of a sudden. To know my words were going to be captured, saved, immortalized, even just in the town paper, was a little daunting. I’d sat for dozens of interviews in my professional career, but none had ever been as important as this one.
This was my last hope for a second chance with the woman I loved. And putting all that down on paper felt like I was exposing a raw nerve to the world. But what other choice did Ihave? All my efforts to reach Lena through normal channels hit roadblocks—namely blocks on all her socials—and she returned everything I had messengered to her with no comment. I had to trysomethingto reach Lena. “I’m not quite sure where to start.”
Jo shifted in her chair, getting comfortable. “As far as I can tell, you’ve done what you set out to do here. You secured your grandfather’s estate, pulled off a successful festival, and broke ground on the new Kincaid Energy wind farm with the town’s blessing. And yet, you’ve decided to stay in Braeburn despite the bulk of your business still being overseas.” Jo regarded me curiously. “So, I think the first question I have is why have you’ve decided to take this next step?”
“Well,” I said, watching her hands hover over her keyboard. “Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what legacy means to meandwhat I think it meant to my grandad. And I’ve been searching for ways to honor those beliefs.”
Jo nodded, her gaze cataloging my every microexpression. “What do you think legacy meant to Pete?”
I rubbed my hands together, “I think it meant connection.”
“Connection?” Jo said, pausing her typing. “Like a blood connection?”
I shook my head. “Sometimes. But not always. When I was growing up, my parents divorced, and my home life became quite difficult.” That was glossing over what my life was like, but she didn’t need those details. “My grandparents really stepped in to make sure I was happy and supported. His home here in Braeburn became the safe, stable space I needed when the rest of my life was too unpredictable. A space where I could feel comfortable and know that I was loved. But many of my happiestmemories in this place are from Grandad’s Highland Adventure Camp. It was through that camp that I found the friends I’m still closest to today. It was through that camp that I got in touch not just with my heritage but with my sense of self. And I realized, recently, that maybe it wasn’t justmethat needed that. My grandparents provided a place of support, stability, self-discovery, and connection for alotof people over the years. And I think that’s the legacy Grandad wanted to pass on to the next generation.”
“Connection with the community?” Jo said.
“Exactly,” I said. “I think what Grandad wanted me to take away from those experiences was that family wasn’t necessarily the one you were born into but instead consisted of the people who showed up for you.” My thoughts drifted to Agnes and Callum, who’d helped me keep Lochbrae running despite Grandad’s loss, to the festival committee who’d helped shape the latest summer festival into the success it was, and even to Lena, who’d held my world together more times than I could count. Grandad, in one way or another, had brought all these people into my life, and my chest ached at the thought of never having another chance to thank him and tell him how much I loved him. “The greatest gift Grandad ever gave me was my connection to Braeburn and the people here.”
Jo smiled softly. “They say it takes a village to raise a child, but I’ve always thought that applies at any age. Sometimes you need that village when you’re young. Sometimes you find you really need that village when you’re twenty and searching for yourself. And sometimes you need that village the most when you’re in your later years.”
I nodded in agreement. “Which is why I want to make sure I give back to this community that’s given me so much.”
Jo tilted her head. “What does giving back look like to you?”
“Part of it involves sharing the profits from the wind farm with the town,” I told her, pausing again for her to catch up with her notetaking. “I’m going to set up a trust that supports infrastructure development. Kincaid Energy will run it, but it will be up to a committee of local members to vote and allocate the funds as needed to benefit the people and small businesses in town.”
“I—wow,” Jo said, briefly at a loss. She shook her head. “That’s going to change a lot of lives.”
“I hope so,” I said. “It’s what Grandad would have wanted.”
WhatIwanted. Deciding to move to Braeburn permanently had been one of the easiest decisions I’d made in a long time. I’d jumped through marriage-sized hoops to protect the estate, to keep Lochbrae out of Jasper’s weaselly hands, and after all that, I knew it would be a disservice to the place and the people that had shaped me to abandon it all now.
“You said sharing the profits waspartof how you wanted to give back,” Jo said. “What’s the other part?”
My nerves returned. Talking about the wind farm trust was easy, but the rest of it…I shoved aside my fears, knowing it was long past time for me to learn to be open about the way I truly felt. Being with Lena—and then losing her—had made me realize I didn’t want to live this life alone. I didn’t want to be afraid of feeling too deeply. I wanted connection. I wanted family. I wanted to love with abandon. “I’m going to be taking classes and registering to become a foster parent.”
Jo’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “That’s…a huge step,” she said. “And a lot of responsibility.”
“I want that responsibility,” I said with certainty. I’d thought long and hard about Lena’s inability to carry children and how much she wanted to be a mother, and I realized there were children out there who probably wanted a family just as badly. Children who longed for connection, for support, for love—and here I was, with more money than I could ever spend and more space than I could ever fill at Lochbrae.
“How do you think your grandfather would have felt about that?” Jo asked.
That was a question I’d been asking myself, and I’d come to the conclusion that Grandad would have supported me. In fact, he’d probably have clapped me on the shoulder and said there was more than enough love to go around.
“Weston?” Jo said, prompting me.
