Page 12 of Small Town Sizzle

He glances out toward the wetlands, his expression softening. “It’s incredible what has been done here. Preserving this land—it’s rare to see something like this in a small town.”

“It really is,” I say, feeling a swell of pride. “Greta McAllister devoted her life to protecting it all. She was amazing. She bought this land decades ago when developers were eyeing it for some kind of resort. She fought tooth and nail to make sure it stayed protected.”

“That’s inspiring,” he says, turning back to me. “And she donated it to the youth center, right?”

I nod. “Yes. She wanted the kids to grow up with an appreciation for the environment. She believed that if they could see how beautiful and important this place was, they’d fight to protect it too.”

“That’s incredible,” he says, his tone genuinely admiring. “And the youth center owns the land outright?”

I hesitate for a second, caught off guard by the specificity of the question. There’s something about this man that doesn’t feel right to me.

“Yes,” I say slowly. “Well, technically, the land is held in a trust Greta set up. It’s managed by the board of the youth center.”

TJ nods thoughtfully, pulling a small notebook from his pocket. “That’s a great setup. Smart, too. Is the trust public record, by any chance?”

I blink. “I’m not sure. I’d assume so, but I haven’t looked into it myself.”

“Interesting,” he says, scribbling something down. “And the wetlands themselves—are they part of the trust, or are they protected under a different designation?”

“The wetlands are part of the trust,” I say, my pride bubbling up again. “The wetlands are a protected area, and that includes the youth center. Greta worked really hard to make sure they were included. She even partnered with a few environmental groups to ensure they had extra layers of protection. She did two things in that she made sure both the wetlands and the youth center could never be sold or developed.”

“That’s amazing,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “So, the youth center effectively acts as a steward for this entire area?”

“Exactly,” I say, smiling. “The center organizes cleanups, nature walks, educational programs—it’s a huge part of what we do here. Greta believed in teaching through experience, so the kids get to see firsthand why this place matters.”

“That’s such a great legacy,” he says. “And you’re doing a great job continuing it.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

He leans against the railing, his gaze sweeping over the landscape. “I’ve read about places like this, but seeing it in person… it’s something else. You must be really proud to be part of it.”

“I am for sure.” I smile.

“If I may ask, you spoke of Greta in the past tense. Is she no longer around?”

“No, she passed a few days ago. Her funeral is happening now. She was very loved, very adored. She did so much for the town. I’m certain it’s standing room only.”

“And you’re not there?”

I hesitate, shooting him a quizzical look. “I went this morning because I had a call across the county.”

“That makes sense.”

“If there’s nothing else, I really need to get inside. The kids of Hicks Creek just lost someone a lot of them saw as a grandma and they’re going to need a place to come to tonight.”

“Oh, certainly.” He grins. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

He pushes off the railing and starts walking. I am almost inside the building when I hear him call my name.

“Maya, would you be against getting some coffee with me tomorrow morning? I’d love to pick your brain more about the wetlands and Hicks Creek in general.”

I’m caught off guard by the question, but my gut is screaming no for some reason.

“I really don’t have time tomorrow morning,” I answer before quickly going inside the building.

That was a weird exchange. I look out the window a few seconds later and see him climbing into a black BMW. I’m not sure why, but something feels wrong.

It’s been such a long day, and I’m grateful that I went to the funeral home as early as I possibly could to pay my respects. Mymother may ride me for not being present where everyone could see me, but it is what it is.