Page 32 of Take This Heart
Juju snorts behind the counter. “You two are gonna combust. Do it quietly.”
I glance at her, betrayed. “You’re takinghisside?”
“I’m taking the side of my entertainment.”
I sigh, drop into my usual seat, and scowl across the table at him. “Don’t talk to me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He takes a sip of his coffee, his shoulders relaxing like he’s just won something.
“And stop bringing up that lapse in judgment,” I hiss.
He doesn’t say anything, just gives me wide, innocent eyes.
I growl and he laughs.
Back at the house, my dad is set up in the living room, plans and sketches sprawled across the coffee table. Dad tells Milo and me about a meeting he just had with Meredith Strong, Windy Harbor’s mayor. He’s keeping her in the loop with our plans and she’s excited about this project, which is great news.
Things go smoother than yesterday. Until Milo brings up a floating staircase in the lodge.
“A floating staircase?” I cut in. “Are we building a villain lair? Is Batman going to make an appearance?How is that charming?”
“It can be done with elements that fit the look you want,” he says, ignoring me. He slaps another sketch down dramatically. “Imagine this…separate from the resort, but nearby…closer to the water. A lakeside glass pavilion. Glass on three sides, floor-to-ceiling. Double-paned, well-insulated. In the winter, it’ll be warm inside, with a full lake view. In the summer, we open the sliding panels along the south side and let the breeze roll through.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s…actually not a terrible idea.”
Dad perks up. “You’re keeping the view.”
Milo nods, hands in his pockets like he knows he’s nailing this. “I’m framing the view. Always. We don’t compete with Lake Superior. We collaborate.”
I tilt my head. “Wow. How many times did you practice that line in the mirror?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s a good one, right? I might use it again sometime.”
I shake my head. “Arrogance for days.”
“Only when it’s deserved.” He pulls out another drawing. “Inside, we’re going with clean lines and reclaimed timber beams from that old barn you mentioned tearing down, Everett. Radiant floors. Modular seating for gallery exhibits, lectures, small concerts, or meditation if someone is so inclined.” He grins at my dad.
I make a face. “Always kissing ass.”
He smirks. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he says under his breath.
I shoot him the deadliest glare I can muster.
“I’m just saying there are possibilities.” His smile is ingratiating and it makes my teeth clench.
This man.
Deep breaths.
“What’s all this?” I point to a drawing of flowers and stone.
That’s what I really care about. How all we’re doing lives with the land.
He motions to the area around the pavilion. “That’s where the stone courtyard goes. Hand-laid limestone, sourced locally. Raised beds around the perimeter with native plants and herbs—some for scent, some for texture, some for pollinators. I want it to feel alive. Not ornamental.”
I blink. I wasn’t expecting him to have given so much thought to this already. He’s already laid out a fabulous plan for the resort and cabins, a restaurant, day spa…the full gamut. But this is next level.
“There could be kinetic sculptures in the corners,” he goes on. “Pieces that move with the wind. Wind chimes, maybe. Perhaps weather vanes designed by local artists. Something unexpected that plays with sound.”
