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“Congratulations!” Maxwell called out, echoed by several others.

“We’re planning a small New Year’s Eve wedding?—”

“I’m on it!” Paisley yelled then quieted. “I mean, if you want me to be.”

Laughter burst around the table.

Keith grinned at the woman who was engaged to his soon-to-be stepson. “We were hoping so. We’ll talk later.” He surveyed the table as though to say more but shook his head and sat back down. He kissed Nadine, who beamed at him.

“Did you know?” Maxwell whispered to Eryn.

“Dad told me last night,” she whispered back. “I knew things were progressing this way already, so it wasn’t a huge shock. The only surprise is how quickly they’re moving.”

Compared to Maxwell’s promise to take things slow until he was absolutely sure? He already was, but there was still something there. Eryn wasn’t ready, even if she thought she was. Or was he hedging for a different reason?

His prayer list kept getting longer.

Maxwell opened the door from the conference room and beckoned her in. “They’re ready for you.”

Eryn took a deep breath and smoothed her hands down her skirt. “I’m nervous.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. You’re going to rock this. I’ve got your presentation queued up. Ready?”

Was she? She’d worked so hard on ideas to turn that little gift shop into something the resort could be proud of, and here was her opportunity to have the Sullivan Enterprises board give her a chance to implement it. But she didn’t want Nadine to think she was ungrateful for the job in the kitchen. It had been such a different dynamic than restaurant cooking, plus it had given her a chance to get to know Dad’s girlfriend — now fiancée — on her own.

She looked up at Maxwell and nodded, quelling her churning gut.

He smiled, ushered her in, and indicated her place at the foot of the conference table. He sat around the corner and picked up the remote. “Ready?”

Eryn pulled back her shoulders and nodded as she met Walter Sullivan’s gaze down the length of the table. “I’m sure Maxwell has already told you about my interest in the gift shop in the lobby. He encouraged me to create a proposal for what I feel the space could become.”

He flicked a switch, and a 3D rotating rendering of the space appeared on the screen. It was certainly helpful having a boyfriend adept at CAD programs.

“I’ve contacted several local artisans who are interested in selling their wares through our gift shop.”

Maxwell grinned at her, and she realized she’d called it our gift shop. Well, yes. After the course of the past six weeks, she’d come to think of it with ownership.

“We’ve already had pottery from Bayside Kiln on display. Upon our go-ahead, Trinity will create a line of coffee mugs specifically for sale here. That’s a pretty big deal because, as you know, she’s mostly blind. But she has done some experimenting, and we feel we have a winning design.”

Maxwell popped the rendering onto the screen to the murmur of approval from around the table.

Eryn gathered confidence from that and went on to describe and display the wares of the other vendors she’d contacted. She showed a mockup of jigsaw puzzles created from some of Cadence’s photos as well as updates to the book rack as Maxwell’s AI-generated walk-through followed along.

Then she lifted the table runner she’d pieced together night before last. She’d finally given in and pulled the bin with her favorite fabrics out, even though she and Dad were moving in a few days.

Maxwell’s head tipped to the side, and he studied the runner. Did he not like it after he’d encouraged her to follow through? She had no time to worry about that now.

“Bravo!” Maribel clapped. “I love everything. I love the idea of our guests being able to purchase unique, locally made gifts and mementoes from our shop.”

Maxwell’s smirk wasn’t missed by Eryn. He’d told her how adamantly against the purchase of the ranch his mother had been at first.

“Hear, hear!” Bridget nodded.

“Well done,” James — Maxwell’s dad — said.

“Any questions?” Eryn couldn’t believe it had been that easy to win them all over. Though Maxwell had been right. Anything would be better than the way the little space had been so neglected.

No. She straightened her shoulders. This was a thousand times better. This was her vision, and she was proud of the work she’d done to curate and fine-tune it.