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At the applicant’s table, Eric stands and buttons his jacket. His gaze finds mine. I must look as shocked as I feel because the relief in his face fades. Neither of us smiles.

Eric says something to Daniel as he passes the front row. A moment later, the entire Voss group leaves the chamber.

Grandma hasn’t moved. She stares at the empty applicant’s table, her hand loose inside mine.

“Bell changed her mind,” Rhonda says. “My contact was certain she’d vote against it.” She reaches into her bag for her phone. “I’ll find out what happened. There may still be a way to challenge the decision.”

The chair calls the next item, and a discussion begins about a new parking lot on West Street. The council members turn their pages and begin taking notes. They’ve already moved on.

I hear the words, but I can’t follow them. All morning, I thought I knew how this would end. Grandma and I would return to the Hartwell and celebrate. Then I would find Eric and help him through the loss.

Instead, Eric has left with his approval, and Grandma sits beside me so quietly that she doesn’t seem to hear anything around her. I can’t imagine telling her that I’m in love with the man whose hotel has just been approved next door.

“I need a moment.” Grandma reaches for her handbag, but it takes her two attempts to lift the strap from the floor.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” She stands.

“Where are you going?”

“To the restroom.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“I can manage on my own.”

She walks away before I can argue. I watch until she reaches the doors. On my other side, Chloe looks as shocked as I feel. She reaches over and takes my hand.

“We should get out of here,” she says.

I nod. I’m usually the person with a plan, but right now, I can’t think. Chloe stands, keeps hold of my hand, and leads me into the corridor.

Mia and the other Hartwell employees follow us into the corridor.

“I’m so sorry, Rachel,” Mia says.

The others gather around, offering the same sympathy. I try to listen, but then I see Eric waiting alone near the elevators, and their words stop reaching me. He crosses the corridor toward us. When he stops in front of me, his expression is polite and distant, as if the hotel development is the only thing between us.

“Ms. Hartwell.” Only his eyes give him away as they search my face. “Is your grandmother alright?”

“She will be.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He studies me for another moment. His hand shifts at his side, as if he wants to reach for mine, but he keeps it there.

“You should—” I begin, but Grandma steps into the corridor before I can finish. When she spots Eric, she stops. For one second, the hurt shows clearly on her face. Then she tightens her hold on her handbag, draws herself upright, and walks straight toward him.

“You have your hotel,” Grandma says to Eric. “Isn’t that enough for today?”

“I wanted to make sure you were both alright.”

She looks him over, her hurt turning sharp. “Your father was a vulture. He took what he wanted, hurt whoever stood in his way, and called it business.” Her voice shakes. “I hoped you were better than him. I was wrong.”

Eric’s eyes lower. His jaw tightens once, the only sign that her words reached him. I know better. He wore the same look in my apartment when he told me about his mother—quiet, closed off, ready to take the hurt without letting anyone see it.