Billionaire Returns to Hometown After 15 Years, Never Thought His First Love Would Still Be There
Echoes of the Past
Griffin spent an hour at the hospital listening to his father’s weak but characteristically cutting commentary.
Bill Lancaster spoke about his fancy city clothes and too-long absence.
When the nurse came to administer medication that would make Bill Lancaster drowsy, Griffin was almost relieved.
“You should stop by the old house,” his father said as Griffin prepared to leave.
“Martha keeps it up nice, but the porch swing needs fixing. Always was your specialty.”
Griffin nodded non-committally.
He hadn’t been back to the family home since leaving.
The caretaker his father mentioned sent weekly reports on the property’s condition, which Griffin’s personal assistant handled.
Instead of heading there, Griffin found himself walking toward Willow Creek.
A simple wooden footbridge crossed the rushing water.
It was where he and Emma had met every day after school.
It was where they’d shared their first kiss at sixteen and where he’d promised her forever at eighteen, only to leave two weeks later.
The bridge looked smaller now, weathered by time and elements.
He leaned against the railing, watching the water bubble over rocks below.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Griffin turned to see Emma approaching.
Her work apron was gone, replaced by a simple blue sundress that made her eyes seem even brighter.
“Are you checking up on me?” he asked.
“Old habits.”
She joined him at the railing, keeping a careful distance between them.
“Your dad okay?”
“As well as can be expected. The doctors say he’ll need to take it easy, but they expect a full recovery.”
Emma nodded.
“Good. This town wouldn’t be the same without Bill Lancaster’s opinions on everything from the mayoral election to the proper way to grow tomatoes.”
Griffin smiled despite himself. Some things never change, and some things do.
She looked at him pointedly. The unspoken accusation hung between them: fifteen years of silence and fifteen years of unanswered letters that had eventually stopped coming.
“Emma, about what happened…”
“Don’t.”
She shook her head.
“We were kids, Griffin. You had dreams bigger than this town could hold. I understand that now.”
“Do you?”
He studied her face, trying to read the emotions she was clearly trying to hide.
“I run the inn now,” she said instead of answering. “My parents retired to Florida five years ago.”
“What happened to Chicago? The Art Institute?”
Emma’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Life happened. Mom got sick the year after you left. Cancer.”
“She’s fine now, but someone needed to help with the inn, and Dad’s back couldn’t handle it anymore.”
“By the time she recovered, I was managing the place, and it just made sense to stay.”
Griffin felt a pang of guilt.
He’d been so absorbed in his own ambitions, building his company from a dorm room startup to a global tech giant, that he’d never thought about what Emma might be facing.
He’d convinced himself she’d moved on and found someone who could give her the life she deserved.
“Are you married?” he asked abruptly.
Emma’s laugh held a touch of bitterness.
“No. Came close once, about seven years ago. James Harrington. You probably don’t remember him.”
“He was a few years ahead of us in school.”
Griffin remembered the quarterback who’d always looked at Emma a beat too long in the hallways.
“What happened?”
She shrugged.
“The inn happened. My responsibilities happened. He wanted someone who could pick up and move to Boston for his job. I couldn’t leave.”
Her eyes met his.
“Not everyone can.”
The accusation was clear this time.
“I wrote to you,” Griffin said quietly. “For the first year. You never answered.”
Emma’s brow furrowed.
“What are you talking about? I wrote you every week for nearly two years. You’re the one who never replied.”
Griffin stared at her. Confusion mixed with the first stirrings of anger, not at her, but at the suspicion forming in his mind.
“I never got any letters.”
Emma’s face reflected his growing realization.
“And I never got yours.”
They stood in silence as the implications sank in.
Griffin’s father had always checked the mail and had always disapproved of Emma as a distraction from Griffin’s potential.
“He wouldn’t have,” Emma whispered.
But her tone suggested she didn’t believe her own words.
“You don’t know him like I do,” Griffin replied grimly.
The sun was setting now, casting long shadows across the bridge.
Emma hugged herself against the cooling air.
“I should get back. The evening desk clerk is new, and I don’t like leaving her alone too long during festival weekend.”
Griffin nodded, suddenly not wanting her to leave.
“Emma, regardless of what happened back then, it’s good to see you.”
She smiled a real smile this time. It lit up her face and reminded him of the eighteen-year-old girl who’d promised to wait for him.
“It’s good to see you too, Griffin. Even if you did become exactly what you said you never would: a big shot CEO in expensive suits.”
He looked down at his custom-tailored attire and chuckled.
“The suit is just packaging. I’m still me underneath.”
Her eyes held his for a long moment.
“Are you? I guess we’ll find out.”
With that, she turned and walked back toward town.
She left Griffin to wonder exactly what he’d come home to and what he might have lost all those years ago.
