Chapter 4 - No More Locked Doors
The fire damaged the rear third of the workshop.
The boats survived.
The lumber inventory did not.
For three days, Nora moved through a world of insurance calls, temporary fencing, and ash that appeared on everything she touched.
Then an offer arrived.
Not from Cassian.
From another boatbuilder across the harbor.
Three empty work bays. Shared machinery. A short lease at a fair rate.
Nora called to thank the owner.
He sounded embarrassed.
“Your father once worked through the night to finish a repair I couldn’t manage. Consider it an old debt.”
By Monday, Northline had somewhere to work.
By Tuesday, Luis had organized the move.
By Wednesday, June had painted a temporary sign.
WE’RE STILL HERE.
Nora stood beneath it longer than she intended.
At fourteen weeks, her doctor told her the pregnancy was progressing well.
She bought a small pair of yellow socks afterward.
Then she sat in her truck and called Mara.
“I need to tell Cassian.”
“About the baby?”
“Yes.”
“Because you want to?”
Nora thought carefully.
“Because I’ve had time to breathe. Because I know what I want to say. And because I won’t let the rest of this decide every important moment.”
They met in Mara’s conference room.
Cassian arrived alone.
He had lost weight. A healing cut crossed one knuckle.
Nora noticed it and decided not to ask.
For years, unexplained injuries had been another kind of locked door.
She would no longer stand outside them guessing.
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
Cassian went completely still.
The clock on Mara’s wall ticked through several seconds.
“How far?”
“Fourteen weeks.”
His eyes dropped to her abdomen.
Then returned to her face.
“The dinner.”
“Yes.”
“You came to tell me.”
“Yes.”
He sat down without seeming to notice the chair.
Nora watched the realization move through him.
He put his hands flat on the table.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Then listen.”
He nodded.
“I’m continuing the pregnancy. I have medical care. I have support. I’ll discuss practical arrangements with you, but the baby does not reopen our engagement.”
His throat moved.
“I understand.”
“I need communication that doesn’t arrive through surprise visits, security teams, or money sent without permission.”
“All right.”
“If you think there’s a danger, you give me the information. You don’t make decisions for me and call that protection.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said, “All right.”
Mara took notes while they discussed future communication.
When the practical conversation ended, Nora remained seated.
“There’s something else.”
Cassian waited.
“Did you know Northline’s property was part of your uncle’s redevelopment plan?”
His silence lasted too long.
“When?” she asked.
“Before we met.”
Nora felt cold.
He spoke quickly.
“My uncle wanted to acquire several waterfront parcels. Yours was one. I didn’t meet you because of that.”
“How can I know?”
“You can ask Evelyn Hart. The architect who introduced us. She didn’t work for my uncle.”
Nora remembered the dinner.
The crowded table.
Cassian laughing when she corrected his description of a boat’s hull.
It had felt wonderfully accidental.
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever discuss selling with me because he asked?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him what I said about the shop?”
Cassian looked down.
“Yes.”
There was the smaller betrayal inside the larger one.
Her dreams turned into useful information over some polished conference table.
Nora stood.
“I need to go.”
He stood too, then remained where he was.
At the door, she stopped.
“Is there anything else I need to know before someone uses it against me?”
Cassian’s face changed.
Mara looked up from her notes.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Cassian said, “There are documents I signed.”
“What documents?”
“Cargo declarations. Invoices. I knew some of them weren’t accurate.”
May you like
Nora closed her eyes.
Behind her, Mara quietly reached for a fresh page.
