Page 17 of Finding Home

Mabel hesitated. She was being asked to violate the unspoken code of small-town discretion, to potentially betray a neighbor’s confidence.

“I haven’t heard anything specific,” she said finally. “But I’ll tell you what I have noticed. There’s been more talk in the store lately. More people bringing up the resort, asking questions about your background, and your other projects.” She paused. “Someone’s been doing a lot of research, Cole, and digging into your past.”

The hair on the back of Cole’s neck prickled. “Who?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve had three different people ask me what I know about your developments in Colorado and Wyoming. There are questions about whether those resorts kept their promises to the local communities.” Mabel’s voice turned gentle. “I told them what I thought was true based on my time with you. That you seem like a man who keeps his word.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Mabel stood, gathering her purse. “Because here’s the thing, Cole. In a town this size, when people start asking questions, it usually means something’s brewing. And given what happened to your equipment, I’d be very careful about who I trusted.”

Cole rose as well, his mind already spinning through implications. “Even you?”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Mabel said. “I like what you’ve proposed.”

Cole shook Mabel’s hand. “I appreciate your willingness to talk with me.”

“Just be careful,” Mabel told him. “Whatever you’re planning to do about the sabotage, whoever you’re planning to involve, remember that Sapphire Bay is a small place. Loyalties run deep, sometimes deeper than logic or fairness.” Mabel left, her orange scarf bright against the falling snow.

Cole stood alone in the empty church hall, surrounded by folding chairs and the faint smell of coffee, feeling more uncertain than he had in years.

He’d come to Sapphire Bay hoping to build something meaningful, to finally create a legacy beyond another luxury property with his name attached. But legacy required roots, and roots required trust.

And right now, Cole didn’t know who he could trust with either.

Chapter 12

Julie had just finished arranging her notes across the coffee table when headlights swept through the cottage windows. Her investigation had produced more questions than answers. Hopefully, Cole’s financial records would help narrow the suspect list.

When she opened the front door, Cole was holding two takeout cups from the Lakeside Grill.

“Susan said you’ve been running around all day.” He offered one of the cups. “She thought you might need this.”

“She thought correctly.” Julie stepped aside to let him in. “I’m sorry about the chaos. I started unpacking a few boxes and didn’t get very far.”

“It looks a lot better than where I’m staying.” Cole surveyed the room with what seemed like genuine interest. “At least your furniture is comfortable. The chairs I’m using were built for someone who’s barely five feet tall.”

Julie smiled despite herself, leading him to the sofa. “Have you ever looked for something more permanent?”

“Until I came here, I moved around so much that rentals made more sense than buying a property. But after I moved to Sapphire Bay, that changed. Unfortunately, there aren’t many homes for sale in Sapphire Bay. And when they do come on the market, they’re snapped up quickly. For all its faults, my rental suits me for now. But if you hear of any homes with lake views that are coming on the market, let me know.”

Julie curled into the armchair across from him, cradling her coffee. “I’ll do that. I’m glad you found somewhere you want to call home.”

“So am I.” Cole’s voice carried a weight of longing she understood. “What about you?” he asked. “I take it this cottage is only temporary until you get a job somewhere else?”

The question landed harder than he probably intended. Julie set down her cup, meeting his gaze directly. “I’m not sure if I’ll get another job as a journalist. I applied for three positions last week. One was in Minneapolis, and the other two were on the East Coast. My daughter thinks I’m hiding here, but she doesn’t realize how hard it is to find a job when you’re in your fifties.”

Cole’s eyes widened. “That must have been a pleasant conversation.”

“She means well. She’s worried I’m giving up because one editor thought I was surplus to their requirements.” Julie heard the defensiveness in her tone and softened it. “But the truth is, I don’t know what I want anymore. Part of me misses the adrenaline of breaking a major story, the validation of seeing my byline above something that matters. Another part wonders if chasing that validation is what cost me so much. I didn’t spend nearly enough time with my children, and I had no balance in my life.”

Cole leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re afraid you’ll end up like me. Successful but alone, defining yourself entirely by work that could vanish in a heartbeat.”

Julie’s throat tightened. “Is that how you see yourself?”

Cole rubbed the back of his neck. He looked as though he was uncomfortable sharing this part of his life. “I had relationships, but nothing that stuck. It’s hard to build something lasting when you’re working eighty-hour weeks and treating your apartment like a hotel room. My ex-fiancée finally told me she felt like a line item in my project management software. I saw her when it was convenient and postponed our time together when I had to work.”

“Was she right?” Julie asked softly.