Page 3 of Imperfect Arrangement

The title: A Shared Dream.

She doesn’t need to say another word—I already know what it’s about.

The little girl sitting under a weeping willow tree with fiery red pigtails, gazing out over the very property we’re here to discuss, is unmistakably Willow. And the elderly man beside her, whose proud gaze mirrors hers, must be her grandfather.

“My gramps and I shared this dream. To build the biggest wedding estate right in the middle of Cherrywood. It will be luxurious but also charming and intimate, representing every bit of that cozy, rustic vibe our town stands for.”

Her words have a raw edge that draws me in, her face softened with nostalgia and determination. The kind of look that says she’s here to fight for a future that still haunts her memories. And fuck if I don’t feel that.

“This is his legacy, and I owe it to him.” She clicks through the slides, each image a tribute to the man who, despite what I’m sure were good intentions, messed up big-time.

Two wills. Two owners. One land.

There can be only one winner, and right now, Willow is on the losing side. Me suddenly developing a soft spot for her won’t do either of us any good. “I’m still not hearing the proposition, Miss Pershing.”

“I’m offering you a partnership in my project.” She straightens, gripping her laptop like it’s her lifeline. “I’ve been running my family’s B and B for years. I can show you the financials of Whispering Willow to prove I know the hospitality business. All I’m asking is for you to be a silent partner in exchange for twenty percent.”

Her words spill out fast, each one layered with determination and desperation, and I can’t look away. Not because she’s beautiful—although she is—but because I didn’t see this coming. A partnership was never on the table.

“What changed?”

She slumps, like she’d hoped I wouldn’t ask the details but somehow knew I would. “There’s a big investor interested in my project…but they’ve already waited six months and can’t wait any longer.” She meets my gaze. “I don’t have that kind of capital. If I don’t do this now, it may never happen.”

Something twists in my chest as she lowers her head, loose curls spilling over her eyes.

“You don’t know that. Nothing is over in business until there’s ink on a contract.” I hear the words leaving my mouth, and they surprise even me. I should want her to fold, to hand it over—but apparently, my tongue has other ideas.

She blinks, seemingly equally shocked, then extends her hand, that fire back in her gaze. “Then sign with me. I?—”

The shrill sound of my phone cuts her off.

The chief IT engineer at Elixir Tech set up my phone so that only one specific contact can ring through, while the rest of my contacts stay on Do Not Disturb. It’s the only way to make sure I’m always available for my daughter.

“Do you really have to take that now?” Willow arches an eyebrow, hand still held out above the table.

“I do.” I get why she’s annoyed. I’d probably feel the same if someone pulled out their phone mid-meeting, but she doesn’t know what Quill means to me.

“Hey, hon, is everything okay?” I answer, my voice too bright, too eager, as if maybe this time my daughter will be the one answering. Instead, it’s Grandpa Will, my father’s former butler and the man temporarily filling in as Quill’s nanny.

“Quill would like to host a dinner party this Friday.”

“Excuse me for a second,” I murmur to Willow, already rising from my seat and leaving before she can protest, but when it comes to my daughter, nothing else in my life takes priority.

I slip away to a quiet corner and switch the call to video. My daughter’s face fills the screen, blonde hair perfectly braided into a fishtail from this morning. Honestly, my best work yet!

“Hey, Bug! So you’re planning a party?” I ask out loud in clear, crisp words.

Her nod is immediate, eyes wide with excitement.

“Who’s on the guest list?”

She signs a roll call of my cousins’ names, starting with Rowan, naturally—her favorite—and then adding Archer, Alex, Charles, and, of course, Daisy.

“Aunt Chloe is out of town,” she signs, which reminds me to check in with my cousin.

“That’s quite the guest list. What’s the occasion?”

Her mischievous smile is answer enough, and I can’t help but return it.