Page 52 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)

FORTY-FIVE

MADISON

Madison didn’t wait for Zach to wake up. She wasn’t sure what she’d say anyway, and her face would probably have given her away after the call with Jo. She needed to clear her head, get some space.

Before she left, she brewed a fresh pot of coffee in the farmhouse kitchen, just the way he liked it—strong, black, two sugars on the side. She found a scrap piece of paper by the fridge and scribbled a quick note.

Hate to leave early, something came up. Wish I could stay. I had the best night. —M

She hesitated for a second, heart twisting, then tucked the note next to his mug where he’d see it. Only then did she slip quietly out the front door, her breath misting in the chilly morning air. She’d see Zach later, and maybe by then, she’d have a clearer head.

For now, she had other things to focus on until she was ready to process the news about the job offer. Like her meeting with Mayor Bloomfield about the mysterious letter that had changed everything.

She’d called his office after leaving the crafting club and managed to squeeze into his schedule for 11 a.m. Madison wasted no time heading to City Hall.

When she knocked on his office door, Mayor Bloomfield looked up with a wide grin. “Ah, I was told you were my eleven o’clock.”

“Yes. How was your fishing trip?” Madison asked, stepping inside and trying to keep it casual.

“Splendid, I tell you. Does my old bones good to get out on the lake every now and then. You’d think living here, I’d get to dip a pole in the water more often, but you’d be mistaken.”

“I know how that goes.” Madison smiled. “Sometimes you have to get away from everything just to enjoy what’s right in your backyard.”

“Exactly,” he said with a knowing nod.

Madison always thought of Mayor Bloomfield as something of a grandfather figure to the whole town. He had an ear for everyone, never without kind words or a warm smile. It was no wonder he’d been mayor for as long as she could remember—people respected him, and he genuinely cared about Maple Falls.

“So, what can I do for you today?” he asked, folding his hands and leaning forward across the desk.

“I heard you received a letter… about the inn,” Madison said carefully.

Mayor Bloomfield’s grin returned. “Ah, that I did. And I’m guessing you’d like to hear all about it?”

“That would be helpful,” Madison said, sitting a little straighter.

The mayor sighed, and his expression turned more serious.

“The letter asked me to look out for your dad, make sure he was doing okay. And, well, I’m trying to figure out the best thing to do. You see, there’s something else you need to know.”

Madison’s stomach tightened. “Oh?”

He sat back, hands folded to his chest. “Even though you were living at home, which saved on living expenses, tuition was steep, and your parents still had to manage the inn.”

Madison nodded slowly, dread creeping into her chest.

“So,” he continued, “I helped them out. I bought the inn from them.”

“You what?” Madison’s voice rose, and she shot up from her chair, hands braced on the desk. The room tilted slightly as a wave of dizziness passed through her. “You own the inn?”

“Please sit down,” Mayor Bloomfield said gently, reaching out a hand. “It was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, a secret between me and your folks, just until business picked back up, but it never did.”

Madison sank back into her chair, feeling like she’d been hit by a truck.

“Your parents just wanted what was best for you,” he said kindly. “But now?—”

“Now what?”

“Madison, the inn isn’t doing well. I’m bleeding money.

George hasn’t been coping with it and I’m wondering if it would be better for him to cut his losses now, too.

Whoever sent that letter clearly knows he’s struggling.

So, unless it has a miracle turnaround with this relaunch you’re planning, I’ll have to sell it?—”

“How much?” she asked quietly.

“Pardon?” He blinked.

“How much do you want for the inn?” she clarified.

“Oh…” He rubbed his chin. “Well, I suppose I’d let it go for what I paid for it.”

Madison’s mind spun. She thought of Plated ’s offer—the generous salary, the career she’d dreamed of—and the Cinnamon Spice Inn. Her family’s legacy. The home she now knew she couldn’t bear to lose.

“I’ll take it,” Madison said firmly. “I want it back. Just tell me how much it costs, and I’ll make it happen.”

Inside, she was already running numbers—figuring out how much she’d need to live on and how much could go toward paying him back.

The Cinnamon Spice Inn belonged in her family. And she’d make sure it stayed that way.