Page 4 of All You Need Is Macchiato

"Marketing, mostly. Social media, promotional events, community outreach. Making sure people know we're here."

"Sounds like you love it."

"I do." And I mean it. "There's something special about sharing this place with people who appreciate it."

The way she's looking at me makes me want to share a whole lot more, but my phone chimes with a text from Rowan. Supply run needed in town.

"Duty calls?" Kathryn asks.

"Unfortunately. But I can show you the rest tomorrow, if you're interested."

"I'd like that."

Morning hits different in Elk Ridge. The sun creeps over the mountains slowly, like it's in no hurry to start the day. I'm making my rounds downtown, checking in with local businesses about our upcoming fall festival at the lodge.

"Nolan!" Marie waves from her flower shop. She's arranging sunflowers in buckets outside her door, adding splashes of yellow to Main Street. "Tell your aunt those centerpieces for the Morgan wedding will be ready Friday."

"Will do." I help her shift a particularly heavy bucket. "Need any more lodge brochures?"

"Always. The tourists love your hiking trails." She straightens, brushing dirt from her apron. "Speaking of tourists. I saw your aunt's newest guest earlier. Quite a change from your usual crowd."

I try to keep my voice neutral. "How so?"

"Well, for one thing, she's wearing heels. On Main Street." Marie shakes her head fondly. "Reminded me of myself when I first moved here from Charlotte. Sometimes it takes a while to find your mountain legs."

I'm about to respond when I spot that familiar blazer through the morning crowd. Kathryn's walking purposefully down the street, checking her phone, looking every inch the city professional I'd almost forgotten she was last night.

But it's who she's meeting that stops me cold.

Cam Prescott stands outside the Coffee Loft in his usual trying-too-hard suit. He's wearing that same slick smile he had three years ago when he promised us the coffee shop would stay "authentically local" under corporate ownership.

Right before he gutted everything that made it special.

"Oh dear," Marie murmurs, following my gaze. "That can't be good."

I watch as Kathryn shakes Cam's hand. She pulls out her tablet and follows him inside. Through the window, I can see him gesturing around the space like a king showing off his castle.

"Remember what it was like before?" Marie asks softly. "When your mom used to take you and your cousins there after school?"

I do. Mom would order her usual. Connor and I would split a giant snickerdoodle cookie while she helped us with homework. After she got sick, Mr. Peterson would send cookies home with Dad, saying they were "extras" he needed to get rid of.

Then Cam showed up with his corporate checkbook and promises of "maintaining the local charm while maximizing efficiency."

Now the homemade cookies are gone, replaced by standardized seasonal offerings. The snickerdoodles come pre-packaged from some warehouse. And the community bulletin board where Mom used to post lodge events has been replaced by corporate promotional posters.

Through the window, I see Kathryn smile at something Cam says. She's taking notes, nodding, looking every bit the corporate consultant I should have known she was.

My phone buzzes. Jameson, reminding me about supplies he needs for the activity center. But I keep watching, pieces clicking into place. The business attire. The vague answers about why she's here. The way she changed the subject whenever the conversation turned to work.

"You know," Marie says gently, "she seemed nice when she stopped to admire my sunflowers earlier. Asked all about local suppliers, wanted to know if I'd consider providing flowers for?—"

"For the coffee shop?" The words come out sharper than I intended.

"Actually, she asked about the lodge. Said the arrangements in the great room were gorgeous."

I remember how her eyes lit up at dinner, how genuine her wonder seemed at Eagle Point. How easily she fit into our chaos. But I've seen this show before. Corporate sends in someone charming to smooth things over, to make big promises about community and connection. Then the spreadsheets come out, and suddenly words like "efficiency" and "standardization" start getting thrown around.

"Nolan." Marie's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Not everyone in a blazer is the enemy."

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