Page 50 of Zachary

“…very mysteriously,” a woman is saying as we enter. I can’t remember if she’s Asher’s mother or Micah’s, but there’s a pleasant twinkle in her eye that makes me like her.

“Visitors?” That’s Damaris. She’s enthroned in an armchair and hesitates a moment before getting up. “What a surprise.”

Asher stands and steps forward as Cam goes to perch on Micah’s knee, ignoring the expanse of space beside him on the couch. “Grandmother, you remember Zoe and Ronan. Take a seat, you two.” It’s not quite an order, but I step on Zoe’s foot to stop her from making a smart-ass comment and drag her over to sit beside Micah. Garrett, in another armchair with Zac sitting on the arm, gives me a thumbs-up.

Zac’s face is tense, and I wish he was closer so I could pet him.

“Asher, what’s going on?” one of the men demands. I’m certain it’s Asher’s father.

“We have exciting news,” Asher says, but his face doesn’t match the words. His eyes are on his grandmother. “Micah, Zac, and I are forming a company to build a ski resort behind the village. Our research has shown it will be a wonderful tourist attraction for members of the community who want somewhere they can feel safe from human eyes. Garrett believes that when people see what an amazing haven we have up here, and once regular commuter travel is possible, it will lead to an influx of new residents.”

“That sounds wonderful,” the other mother says. I know it’s not Zac’s mother—she’s definitely Damaris’s daughter. “But I thought those plans were considered years ago and turned out not to be feasible.”

“The original concept was for a different location, Mom,” Micah replies. “On top of that, with no way for tourists to get here during most of the ski season, there was no pointin building a resort. That’s changing now, thanks to the elves Garrett’s hiring for the village.”

“It sounds to me like this calls for a toast,” one of the dads announces. “Let’s celebrate this exciting new venture.”

“No.” Damaris’s word cuts like a knife. Half of the room’s occupants draw back in confusion, but the rest of us lean in for the fight. This is why we’re here.

“We’re not asking your permission, Grandmother,” Asher says. It was agreed that as the oldest cousin present, he’d be the spokesman. “We don’t need it. The investment will be from our personal funds. We’ll apply to the village council to purchase the necessary land, and all relevant plans and permits will be obtained by us. This will bring jobs and visitors to the village—why would anyone vote against it?”

Her face darkens at his mocking tone. “Remember who you’re speaking to, Asher Bailey. The council will look to me for my opinion, and I willnotvote in favor of this.”

“Why not?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Zac

Asher’s questionhangs in the air. His and Micah’s parents are frowning, and even my mom is looking at Grandmother with a tiny line between her brows.

“This idea of Zac’s is foolish nonsense. You all need to focus on your duties and not on chasing empty dreams. The expense of this kind of undertaking—”

“The expense is ours, not anyone else’s,” Asher interrupts. His mother gasps softly. I can’t remember the last time someone interrupted Grandmother. “And I resent your implication that we aren’t focused. When have we ever failed to fulfil a duty?” He doesn’t pause for her to answer. “This idea isn’t foolish nonsense, which you’d know if you’d even listened to Zac when he brought it to you. Half an hour of your time is all he asked for, Grandmother, after decades of devotion to every duty you’ve ever volunteered him for. Why was that too much to ask?”

Grandmother’s face transforms with fury. “Are you suggesting I don’t love my family? Everything I do is for the good of this family and our people.”

Asher nods. “I agree. I just don’t think your definition of ‘good’ is always the same as ours.”

The little puddle of silence is uncomfortable. Uncle Hal breaks it. “This seems to be family business. Perhaps our visitors—”

“They stay,” I insist. “They’re part of this.”

Mom raises a brow at me, but I avoid her gaze. I know she loves me—that’s not in doubt—but I honestly don’t know whose side she’s going to come down on, and that’s a terrifying thought.

“Very well, Asher. Perhaps you’d like to expand on your little diatribe.” Grandmother settles back in her chair and folds her arms.

Asher cocks his head. “You don’t get it, do you? Even now, you’re giving mepermissionto tell you what I think. I’m an adult, Grandmother, and you don’t own me. I don’t need your permission to speak. We’ve spent a long time jumping in whatever direction you told us to because we knew your intentions were good. None of us doubt that. But somewhere along the way, you’ve forgotten that we get to control our own lives.”

She scoffs, but he continues.

“Your asinine matchmaking plans are a good example. Garrett and I weren’t secretly dating. We met by coincidence two days before he came here. But your insistence on matchmaking was so abhorrent to me that I made up a boyfriend and borrowed a physical description for him from a man I never thought I’d see again.”

Grandmother’s expression doesn’t change, but Asher’s mom says, “What?”

“I talked Garrett into pretending we were in love. Our marriage was supposed to be one of convenience only—we have a legal document laying out the terms.”

Now Grandmother’s face pales as the extremes of the situation sink in.

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