Page 23 of The Proposal Planner (Ever After #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MADDY

The morning sun casts long shadows across Main Street as I pull up to Timeless Treats. My stop here is a small ritual, a pause before the flurry of the barn. Mason's coffee. An almond croissant. Little anchors in a life that has finally, maybe, begun to steady.

Today feels no different. The scent of pastry wraps around me as I push open the door. I order the usual, humming under my breath. For once, I'm almost convinced everything is as it should be.

Then I look at the stack of copies of River Bend Happenings near the register and see today's headline. "New Resident Brings Big City Problems to Small Town Dreams."

I snatch a copy, scanning the article as my fingers tighten around the paper.

Mrs. Patterson has outdone herself, weaving fragments of truth with speculation that paints Mason as a calculating outsider who's wormed his way into the community's trust while hiding a "troubling history of corporate destruction.

" She doesn't mention Silver Creek, but she doesn't need to, every dog whistle hits its mark.

Reading it leaves a bitter feeling in my stomach as I pay for my items. Its warmth offers no comfort.

I drive to the barn. It's comfortable most mornings, but this morning, a new undercurrent hums beneath it all. Not dread. Not regret. Heavier. The weight of what's coming. The fight we're about to take on.

As I push open the double doors, there it is, a mug, steaming on the corner of my cluttered worktable. A ritual that means more now, a promise between co-conspirators, between … whatever we are.

I wrap my hands around it, letting the warmth settle me. Today, I don't question it. I don't dissect it. I hold on to it.

Mason sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by plans and timelines, a solid presence against the sprawl of fabric swatches and sketches covering the barn. Methodical. The structure I didn't realize I'd come to rely on.

I set my supplies beside the mug.

"Ivy should be connecting any minute," I say, opening my laptop and adjusting the screen. "Fair warning, she's been dealing with Italian wedding vendors all week, so her patience for anything sane may have left the country."

The barn door creaks open, followed by Savvy's laugh. My heart gives a small skip.

"Maddy!" she calls, stepping inside. Henry follows close behind, looking tanned and relaxed in a way I've never seen, like Scotland softened edges I didn't know he had.

Savvy's eyes sweep over the swatches and half-built floral arch held together with zip ties. "This either ends in magic or with you banned from ordering in bulk."

"Why not both?" I grin, throwing my arms around her. The hug is long and grounding. "So? Did you guys go castle shopping?"

Henry follows, dry amusement in his expression. "She found one. I talked her out of putting in an offer."

Savvy bumps him with her elbow. "It had a turret. You try saying no to a turret after two glasses of champagne."

Henry's gaze shifts to Mason, still seated among the renderings and what suspiciously appears to be a hot glue gun clipped to his belt. "Comfortable?"

"Shockingly, yes," Mason says, standing to shake his hand.

"Well, I'm glad to see no one's plotting murder," Savvy says, settling into a client chair. "Maddy's emails were vague enough to imply there is a crisis she didn't want to explain over text."

Before I can answer, the laptop chimes. Ivy's face fills the screen, frazzled, fabulous, a streak of what seems to be pistachio gelato on her blazer.

"Please tell me someone has good news," she says. "I spent six hours explaining to a bride's mother why we cannot, in fact, release doves inside the Pantheon, no matter how much she's willing to pay in bribes."

"Doves in the Pantheon?" Mason asks.

"Don't ask," Ivy sighs. "Italy's been educational.

But enough about my glamorous life of near-international incidents.

Savvy, you look disgustingly happy. Henry, you look like you've slept.

And Maddy…" Her eyes narrow on the screen.

"You look like you've had either a breakthrough or a breakdown.

Judging by the creative explosion behind you, I'm guessing breakthrough? "

"Breakthrough," I confirm. "But it's complicated."

"Everything is with you," Ivy says. "What's the situation?"

Henry exchanges a look with Savvy. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded newspaper.

"Have you seen this?" he asks.

He spreads out the copy of River Bend Happenings, and even knowing it's coming, my stomach clenches.

"It gets worse," Savvy says. "She's distributed it everywhere, Main Street shops, Timeless Treats. People are talking."

"I see," Mason says.

"She assassinated your character," I say, my voice tightening. "And you're going with stoic acceptance?"

"She's not wrong about my history," Mason says. "The details are twisted, but the heart of it, that I've done damage I can't undo, that's true."

"That's crap," Savvy cuts in. "I've seen how you work. How you protect people. Whatever you did before doesn't define you now."

Henry leans forward. "So. What do we do about it? Because this could undo everything we've built."

Silence.

And then it hits me.

"We earn their trust," I say. "Not with spin or stunts. With service. Real help."

Mason lifts his head. "What sort of help?"

I start pacing. "You're a lawyer. Henry knows estate planning. How many people here have wills or the right paperwork to protect their families?"

Henry nods. "Not many."

"So we offer free legal clinics," I say. "Wills, trusts, basics. No strings. Neighbors helping neighbors."

Mason studies me. "That … could work. But it won't change what she wrote."

"No," I say. "But it gives people a chance to see the truth for themselves."

Savvy's smile sharpens. "You're not defending yourself. You're making your past irrelevant."

"And when people start talking about how you helped them?" Ivy adds. "That's the headline that'll stick."

Henry folds his arms. "We'll use the community center. Make it official."

I glance around, at Savvy, at Henry, at Ivy beaming from the screen. At Mason, who holds my gaze a beat longer than I expect.

"So," I say, squeezing his hand, "ready to show River Bend what a real lawyer looks like?"

His smile is small, but solid. "Let's do it."

By the time the plan is in motion, Henry drafting paperwork, Ivy planning to return for the festival, Mason beside me with that rare, real smile, I know where I need to be.

I pull the croissant from my bag and set it on the table between us. Not habit. Not tradition. A promise. We're not backing down.