Page 30 of Middle Ground

I think it’s really rare to find your place in this world so young. My place, undoubtedly, is the inn. I didn’t want to waste a second of my time with it by going to school. I still don’t.

I slam my phone down on my nightstand harder thannecessary. I should care that I’ve maybe cracked the screen, but I’m too keyed up to care about much of anything other than my raging dislike of Jackson Vaughan.

He’s been here for two seconds and he’s already come in swinging, like one of those cranes with a big wrecking ball attached. The only thing standing between him and the impending wreckage isme. My mother trusted me to do right by her. I’m not taking that lightly.

Meet in the middle? Sorry, Pippa. It’s high time I really dig my heels in.

Meyer Ellison is not going down without a fight.

CHAPTER 12

JACKSON

Despite the warylooks I receive from the townsfolk now that news of my involvement with the inn has spread, my day started out relatively good.

After a short, doctor-approved workout at the gym in town to work on getting my strength back up, I hit the café for some breakfast. And coffee. Can’t forget the coffee. Even strolling into the inn, I was looking forward to what greeted me.

Any contentment falls out the window as soon as I step into the office.

Meyer sits behind the desk, holding herself in that janky chair as if she’s resting on a throne, presiding over her kingdom. All around her are bankers boxes. An excessive amount of bankers boxes.

“What is all this?” I ask, slowly perusing the room.

Meyer’s eyes hold a thread of mischief I haven’t seen before. So far, I’ve been met with nothing short of contempt.This almost feels…playful. I’m not entirely sure what to do with that.

She sits straight in the chair, a sly smile curving her lips. “Thisis Fraisier Creek history, Vaughan.”

I eye a particularly large stack of boxes to my left. “What did you do? Rob the archives?”

I’m not sure a town the size of Fraisier Creek evenhasarchives, but clearly Meyer managed to get all this from somewhere. She must’ve been up half the night hauling all of this in here since she also managed to beat me into the office.

“You wanted data,” she reminds me. “So I brought you data.”

I’d be annoyed if I wasn’t half in awe of her.

“I did say that, but I didn’t mean every town record dating back to its inception. I was talking about the inn.”

Meyer wags her finger. “See, I think that’sexactlywhat you need. To understand the inn is to understand the town.”

She pulls the lid off the box closest to her and reaches inside. Then with a thud, she lets the various books and piles of paper hit the surface of the desk. A cloud of dust shoots into the air, indicating these materials haven’t been touched in a good long while.

“Seriously, where did you get these?” I ask again.

“It’s like I told you. Everything is personal in Fraisier Creek, and it’s all about who you know. I would think someone like you would be all too familiar with that concept.”

I sigh. “Meyer?—”

“As a bonus,” she continues, as if I hadn’t spoken, “I evenbrought my old diaries so you can read all about the crush I had on my math teacher in grade eleven.”

“As much as reading your teenage ramblings appeals to me,” I say, “don’t you think this is a waste of my time?”

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Why?”

She stands from the chair and rounds the desk. When she’s in my space, I can clearly see her eyes—always so startling blue. Now, they have a spark of retribution in them.

“Because, Vaughan, I want you to know exactly what you’re trying to destroy.”