Page 29 of Lost Then Found
I glance down at the document, and my stomach clenches. The paper is full of tiny print, things I don’t fully understand, but Wendell taps a number at the bottom of the page. A number so big my brain barely computes it at first.
I blink at him. “You’re serious?”
He nods.
I swallow hard, my throat dry. I’ve never had that much money in my life. Not even close. It’s more than I’d make in a lifetime of running the Bluebell.
My mind runs wild. That kind of money could change everything. Hudson could go to college anywhere he wanted. We could afford a new house, something bigger, something nice. I could finally take him on that cross country road trip we always talk about but never have the time or extra cash for. We’d never have to worry about bills, repairs, slow seasons.
I exhale slowly, trying to ground myself, to shove the thoughts aside before they sink too deep. “And what happens to the Bluebell? If I sold it?”
Wendell hesitates just a beat too long before answering. “The corporation would probably have to remove it to optimize land use. It’s valuable property. Prime location.”
My stomach churns. “Remove it?”
He says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s a table we’re clearing to make roomfor something better.
“It would allow for better access,” he continues, voice calm, measured. “The land is in a high-demand corridor for future development. They’ll need space to expand. Retail, commercial, infrastructure upgrades—it’s all part of the bigger plan. The Bluebell, well—” He shrugs, like the answer is obvious. “It’s not really built to scale with what’s coming.”
I grip the edges of the folder, forcing myself to focus, to breathe past the tension crawling up my spine. “Whoexactly wants to buy it?”
Wendell flips to another page, taps his finger on a list of company names. “These are the corporations involved. Investment firms, real estate developers, businesses looking to expand. They’re already working with other places in town.”
Dread coils in my gut like a snake. “Other places?”
“Mm-hmm,” he hums. “A couple of properties have already been bought out. Mostly commercial spaces, some land on the outskirts. There’s been a bit of a problem with the smaller, independent businesses, but that’s expected.”
I narrow my eyes. “Problem?”
He chuckles. “Like I said before, people are sentimental. They don’t like change. But they also don’t like being the last ones standing when everything around them moves forward. That’s why I think if you were to sell, it might encourage others to get on board. A lot of people in this town respect you, Lark. The Bluebell has history. It’s more than just a business—it’s a pillar here in Summit Springs.”
I swallow. The weight of it all is pressing against my ribs. “And what do you get out of this?”
Wendell doesn’t answer right away.
That’s enough of an answer.
I tilt my head. “You get a cut of the sale, don’t you?”
His lips twitch, but he nods. “I do. But it’s less about the money and more about giving Summit Springs the upgrade it deserves.”
Upgrade.
I glance at the papers again, my eyes drawn to that number at thebottom of the page. That life-changing number. The number that means I would never have to work again. That means Hudson would have every opportunity in the world, no limits, no struggle.
But how can I sell the Bluebell?
It’s been here for decades. It’s part of this town, a fixture of Main Street. It’s where families come for breakfast before school, where ranchers stop in before sunrise for coffee that’s been poured by the same hands for twenty years. It’s where tourists go for a slice of homemade pie after a long day of hiking, where locals catch up on gossip over bottomless cups of coffee.
It’s Alice’s legacy.
And it’s mine.
I square my shoulders, forcing a steady breath. “I…I need some time to think it over.”
Wendell nods like he expected that. “Of course.”
I gesture toward the stack of papers. “I want a copy of these for my lawyer.”
