Page 87 of The Icing on the Cake
“I had almost thirty years of games to make up for,” Charles replies. “And watching you play, seeing how the team looks up to you, how the whole town supports you …” He shakes his head. “I finally understood what I’d been missing.”
When he looks at Lucian, his expression is pure pride.
“It was a team effort,” Lucian says.
“I know, but the crowd went wild when you scored,” Charles continues. “I may have been the loudest one there.”
“You definitely were,” Lucian laughs. “I could hear you from the ice.”
“Well, I’m new to this hockey thing. I’m still learning what’s appropriate behavior.”
Lucian smiles. “You’re doing fine, Dad.”
It’s such a small moment, but I can see how much it means to both of them—this rebuilding of what they’d lost.
Just then, the doorbell rings and Lucian and I exchange glances—we weren’t expecting anyone else for Thanksgiving.
“I’ll get it,” Lucian says, standing. “Probably Mrs. Nelson checking to make sure you’re still going on her historical tour she’s planned just for you.”
Lucian makes his way over to the door where I hear an unfamiliar voice ask, “Are you Lucian Lowe?”
“Yes.” Lucian hesitates. “Do I know you?”
“No, but I spoke with your father. I’m Alexander MacDonald. I was hoping I could talk with all of you for a moment.”
My fork clatters to my plate. Alexander MacDonald?Here?On Thanksgiving?
Charles rises from his seat. “Ah, Mr. MacDonald.” He puts his hand out. “It’s good to finally meet you in person.”
The men shake hands, like they know each other.
I look between the two men, not understanding how they know each other.
Alexander turns his attention toward me. “Ms. Gilmore?” he asks, extending a hand. “I’m Alexander. My apologies for interrupting your Thanksgiving dinner.”
“We were just finishing up,” I say, shaking his hand. “Would you like a seat?”
“I can’t stay, but thank you,” he answers politely. Behind him, a black sedan with tinted windows waits on the street. “First of all, I’ve been calling on several Maple Falls citizens today. I owe the town and your family an explanation.” His gaze shifts to Charles. “I know our legal teams have been in communication quite a bit lately.”
I look at Lucian, finally putting the connection together. “You asked your dad for help?”
“I did,” Lucian confirms. “But I didn’t know Dad was working on it.”
“He knew my expertise would be helpful to the town,” Charles explains. “And that my legal team could deal with Mr. Hunt.”
“That’s what I wanted to explain. Jeremy Hunt was supposed to be handling a simple property acquisition, not waging war on a community,” Alexander says firmly. “I’m sorry for that.”
“Your lawyer made some bold threats until he realized he was facing serious opposition,” Charles says.
“When I found out about his tactics—the intimidation, the aggressive legal maneuvers—I fired him immediately,” Alexander says. “He was acting outside his authority.”
Charles nods approvingly. “Good. That kind of behavior has no place here.”
Lucian looks between them. “But what about the land claims?”
“Your father’s team did their homework,” Alexander says. “They identified environmental protections, historical preservation issues, and issues Hunt had glossed over. The town was already gathering evidence to fight the claims when Mr. Lowe’s team joined the battle. So when Northwest Development formally challenged our claims, I realized I wasn’t facing a small town with limited resources anymore—I was looking at a legal battle that could drag on for years.”
Charles shifts, putting his hands in his pockets. “When my son came to me for help, I couldn’t ignore what was at stake. This wasn’t just about property lines; it was about Neesha and Lucian’s future. Most small towns can’t afford the kind of legal representation needed to fight back. My business expertise was the one thing I could offer to help.”
