The old train depot was, as advertised, a glorified storage unit. File cabinets and boxes of who knew what from decades of running a town were stacked cheek by jowl around an assortment of discarded office furniture all through the space. But what Norah saw as she looked through it a few days later was the vision Mitch had planted in her head.
“It was really smart of Mitch to do this.”
“Do what?” Cam asked.
“Make me lust over what this space could be. It was smart of all of them to give me the pitch for what my own firm here could be like.”
He scowled. “They shouldn’t have pressured you.”
“It means a lot to me that you don’t. That you’re giving me time to figure things out. I know it has to be hard on you to stay in the here and now without talking about the future. You’re just as muc
