Page 46 of The Sugar Maple Inn

They walked down the hallway together, the inn creaking around them like it was settling in for the night. Or possibly collapsing. Hard to tell.

“That was pretty cool,” Zach said. “You beating the billionaire.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, the guy probably has like, personal chefs and stuff. And you just—” He made a gesture that was probably meant to convey culinary dominance. “Boom.”

Grace laughed. “Boom indeed. Right, let me do the mom inspection of your room.”

“God, Mom, it’s just a hotel room.”

“Yeah, but I still need to check it so I can sleep properly.”

The room was simple but charming, with an iron bed, patchwork quilt, window overlooking the dark lake. Grace had managed to score Zach a spare T-shirt and sweater from the inn’s lost property, both vintage 1990s and approximately the right size if you squinted.

She sat on his bed while he changed in the bathroom, that familiar routine they’d been doing since he was small. The talks that happened in these moments, when defenses were down and honesty slipped through.

“So,” she asked when he came out. “You want to tell me what really happened with Tyler today?”

Zach flopped onto the bed like gravity had personally betrayed him, his blond curls flopping over his forehead. “He was still being a dick about you.”

“Language.”

“He was being a jerk about you.” Zach’s jaw tightened. “Said stuff about the café. About us living above it like we’re too poor for anything better.”

Grace’s stomach sank.

“And then he said—” Zach stopped, clearly debating whether to continue.

“What?”

“He said no one will give you a loan for the inn because you’re a bad investment.”

Grace felt something cold settle in her chest. She could deal with this. But knowing her son had to?

“So yeah,” Zach continued, “I hit him. And I’m not sorry.”

There it was. The fierce loyalty that made him her protector when that was supposed to be her job. The same loyalty that got him suspended, that made his teachers worry, that broke her heart and made it swell all at the same time.

“I appreciate you wanting to defend me,” Grace said carefully. “Really. But that’s not the way to do it. Fighting Tyler just proves him right as it makes us look like we can’t handle things properly.”

“Then how else do I handle it?” Zach said, frustration burning in his amber eyes. “What am I supposed to do, just let him say whatever?”

“You show them what you’re made of,” Grace said firmly. “Head down, work hard. Do well at school, at soccer. Prove we don’t need their approval.”

“Approval for what? To get rich. That doesn’t happen for people like us, Mom. Tyler’s dad’s family owns half the town. We serve them coffee. It’ll always be easier for people like him to make a success of themselves.”

“Actually,” Grace said, “Reese’s mom was a care home worker.”

That stopped Zach. “Serious?”

“Dead serious. She raised him alone.”

Zach processed this, his expression shifting. “Huh.” A slow smile spread across his face. The mischievous one that usually meant trouble. “Yeah, well. He also got into fights. So I guess that worked out for him, too.”

“Nope.” Grace pointed at him. “Nope, nope, nope. I’m not falling for that. No more fights, Zachary Sullivan. I don’t care if Reese Spencer punched his way to a fortune, that’s not happening for you.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but he was laughing. “No more fights.”