“I want Star Harbor Farm to have a farm-to-table restaurant,” I said. “A real one. Cozy. Local. Booked-out-every-weekend kind of place.” His lips parted, but I pressed on. “And I want you to run it. A true farm-to-table setup. Your food. Your vision. Something we build together.” Cal went still. So still I wasn’t sure he was breathing. “I want the inn and the orchard and the ghosts in the trees and all of it. I want you. I want Levi. I want early mornings and burned toast and a place where people come to slow down and fall in love.”
