Page 57 of Spring Showers

Thandie took a deep breath. “How about Harbour House? It fits with the lake theme, even if it does dry up. And people will feel what I’ve felt, that The Foundry is a safe place to heal, to grow, to explore...”

“To find love?” America asked.

“That too.” Thandie said and tugged her boots on. Dried mud fell off and sprinkled on the ground. “I’ll get that later. I have a phone call to make and a voicemail to listen to,” she said and ran out.

Thandie sprinted toward her car and glimpsed Grant heading inside the Harbour House doors. He didn’t look back or see her as she ducked inside the driver’s side door.

CHAPTER26

Following his conversation with Thandie and compiling his report, Grant took his time walking up to the barn. He gripped his report in his hand, even though he was still unsure whether he was doing the right thing. Never, in all of his years as a consultant, had he been in as much turmoil over a final judgment as he was now. He was good at his job, but his heart was tugging him in two opposite directions?

The long walk to the barn did nothing to ease his mind. He knew this retreat was a special place, and a few hours ago he was planning on giving the project a green light. But he knew Davis, or at least he knew many people just like him. Davis was a self-serving and ruthless venture capitalist who didn’t care about the heart of a project, only the bottom line, and he had said as much earlier.

If Grant gave the investment a glowing review, would the firm’s money mean that the retreat would become just like every other resort, where the life of it is quickly replaced by a spreadsheet? He didn’t want that to happen. Not because of Thandie, or Leo, or any of the community that had all pitched in to clean up after the storm, but because his pain from the past was gone. This place, with its rolling hills and wildflower fields, had replaced his grief with hope in love.

Grant was still unsure as he walked inside and found Davis sitting at one of the square bistro tables. His head was buried in a computer screen, and a hands-free receiver covered one ear, the kind with the little mic part extending down his cheek. He looked like a prick. Davis had that confident swagger of a successful man and the good looks to top it off. Grant was certain that Thandie knew how handsome the man was too.

Guilt twisted Grant’s stomach. He had spent much of the last decade striving to be more like the Davises of the world. Doing his job and doing it well with no apology. Spreadsheets and calculations had been his best friends, but during his recent consultations, he had failed to look at the heart of the project. Instead, he had focused too much on the numbers. It was clearer than ever that the numbers alone don’t tell the whole story.

His spine straightened. This time, this project was going to be different.

“Mr. Mothan. I hoped to find you up here,” Grant said and took a seat across the table from Davis. “You’re enjoying thecucina?”

Davis looked around as though he hadn’t taken in the space yet. His eyes came back to the computer screen. “You have my report?”

Grant’s grip tightened around the rolled-up sheets of paper. “Sir, I think this investment...What I mean to say is?—”

“Spit it out, Mr. Goldie.”

“You shouldn’t invest here.” Grant felt relief at having made the decision, but a new panic arose from how he would explain his choice to Leo. He felt hot all over and fought the urge to pulse his tee shirt and let in some fresh air.

Grant’s suggestion got Davis’s attention. “Color me shocked,” he said. “I was certain you were giving a good report. When we spoke over the phone, you sounded like you were in love with this place. What happened?”

What happened, indeed? Was it the storm, the cleanup, the kisses by the fire, the way Thandie looked after him when he overreacted—in more than one way—to the flower fiasco, or cooking hotdogs over the bonfire in the rain? Or was it the quiet moment of solitude where he thought about the woman he had once loved and how he felt free to think of his life without her for the first time since she passed away?

No, Grant thought, it wasn’t one thing, it was the whole of it.

There was no part of his experience at the retreat that could have helped him heal by itself. Every single moment, each day, served to lessen his scars in some way. It was only a bonus that he had a wonderful, beautiful, and funny activities director that got him out of his walled castle and into a place of contentment.

“Grant,” Davis whisper-yelled across the table. “I looked at the financials and I was ready to transfer the funds on Monday. What is the problem? You need to convince me.”

“Honestly?”

Davis snapped back, “That’s what I’m paying you for, isn’t it?”

“I think an investment, yours, or anyone else’s, would destroy this place. I think that if you give the money, you’ll start to dictate how they use it and steer its use to things that will bring you more profit, and not necessarily toward what’s best for the retreat.” It felt good to say his thoughts out loud, though he wondered as Davis’s smirk widened across his face if he had calculated incorrectly.

“That’s quite presumptuous of you to assume I would ruin this place in pursuit of money,” Davis said. “Your report, please?”

Grant crunched the papers in his hand. If Davis saw his report, he would surely make the deal with Leo. His report had nothing but positives, and every word of it was true. “No. I can’t give it to you.”

“You don’t have your report prepared?”

Grant held it up beside his face and tapped the roll against his temple.

“Give it to me!” Davis raised his voice. “No report. No paycheck.”

Grant was fine with this arrangement. “So be it.” He stood and walked toward the trash can under thecucinasign. With each step, he tore the paper in half, and in half again. Ultimately, coming to a stop at the trash can and letting the papers fall from his hand like tickertape.

---