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“My grandparents’ building,” I counter.

Rob sighs, pushing a hand through his graying hair. “We’ve been over this how many times already? The town took ownership of Jerry’s when you couldn’t pay for it.”

“And we agreed I’d pay you the taxes and any maintenance cost as if it were still mine.” Again, I force the boiling in my blood down to a mild simmer. Not today. Today is a good day, and none of his remarks will make me lose sight of that.

“Call it what you want; I don’t care at this point,” I add. “I came here to ask if you could hold off on the sale until the end of October. I know you’re in talks with that business guy, but if the deal was closed, you would have told me. I don’t know what’s going on with that or what he’s giving you, but I can guarantee you that what I have to offer you will top it. Maybe not with cash, but for the town.”

Rob listens to me intently, one eyebrow arched.

“I can buy it back, Rob. I’m just asking for a month to get the money.”

It takes him a few seconds that feel longer than the drive to Vancouver I’m about to embark on before he says, “Fine. I’ll give you a month. But not a day more, understood?”

I nod curtly. “Thank you. I’ll have the money to you by then, I promise.”

He waves me off, grumbling, “Yeah, okay. Now let me get back to my peaceful morning.”

No need to tell me twice.

I jog back toward my truck and can’t help but smile.

After all these years, I finally get to go home. All my memories that still haunt those walls, the laughter and tears that resonate through the empty space that used to be my safe haven—it’ll be mine again in a matter of a few short weeks.

When I arrive at the office around noon, the place is empty. Everybody must be in the break room or out at lunch. I don’t know a lot of my colleagues since I mostly work remotely or am out in the wilderness. And it’s not like I enjoy coming here anyway. Vancouver overflows with people and buildings, and there’s no place to breathe or find the quiet calm you need. Everything reeks; I can’t pick up the smell of nature through the thick clouds of pollution and exhaust fumes. Being here makes me uneasy, almost like my body doesn’t know how to adapt or even survive in this foreign environment. Which is pretty comical, considering my survival skills in the wild.

I glance around, trying to find Donna. She and I agreed that I would come in early so she could brief me on the people arriving today and go over the filming and location schedules for the next two weeks. Since I’m also first-rescuer certified and will be largely in charge of the crew’s safety while we’re filming, I’m also going to be giving them a 101 training on what to do and, more importantly, what not to do while out in the rainforest. I’m happy to do it, even though the thought of public speaking never fails to make me nervous. She’s lucky I got a certification a few years back and that I’ve given this exact talk more times than I can count. I’m saving her a ton of cash and trouble.

“Donna?” I poke my head into her office, but it’s empty.

I stop by other offices. Nothing.

I check my phone. No texts.

She did say she would meet me here at noon, so where the hell is she?

I shoot her a quick text, and when, ten minutes later, I still don’t have an answer, I start pacing the conference room a bit faster.

“Where are you, Donna—”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Her shrill voice comes through the door as she throws her bag on the chair next to me and sits down dramatically. “God, what a day.”

Her face is red, and by the look of her graying hair sticking to her damp cheeks, I don’t think it’s because of the cold day we’re having. I know Donna gets a bit stressed sometimes—she always has a hundred things on her to-do list—but seeing her winded like she ran after her bus, missed it, and walked the rest of the way to the office must be a new record.

I sit down too. “What’s going on?”

“The journalist from Toronto is coming in less than an hour, and the hotel in Pine Falls that was supposed to lodge her bailed on me at the last minute. They double-booked the only room they had left. How do these things still happen nowadays? Doesn’t your town know about computers and other intelligent machines?”

I chuckle at her joke, but the look Donna gives me makes me think she means business.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry you’re having to deal with that. Have you found an alternative?”

She pushes her thick glasses up her nose before folding her hands on the table. “Well . . . no. How am I supposed to find a decent room in a town of six hundred people with double the squirrel population and where the only bed-and-breakfast available is managed by a guy who is still sending faxes?”

Donna takes a deep breath and lets the air out slowly. “I know what I’m about to ask you is a lot . . .”

Oh no.

“And you’re allowed to tell me no because I’m not paying you nearly enough for this . . .”