Maggie Rodriguez answered on the second ring, her voice already sounding like she was juggling three things at once. "Clara Mae? Everything okay? You never call this early unless the oven's exploded or a rogue squirrel's made off with the pecan stash."
Clara Mae managed a weak chuckle. "Worse, Maggie. Much, much worse. A rogue billionaire has made off with the peace of Willow Creek."
She quickly recounted the visit from Alexander Sterling, the intimidating blueprints, and the "generous" offer he'd so coldly dismissed as sentimentality. She could practically hear Maggie's brow furrowing through the phone.
"Sterling Global? That Sterling Global?" Maggie asked, a note of genuine concern, not just friendly curiosity, in her voice. "Clara Mae, these aren't small-time developers. They're… predatory. They don't just buy properties, they reshape skylines."
"Well, he's not reshaping my skyline," Clara Mae declared, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. She was still buzzing from the confrontation. "He's got plans that bleed onto our property, Maggie. And he expects me to just roll over."
"Okay, okay, deep breaths," Maggie said, her legal training kicking in. "First, don't sign anything. Don't even talk to his 'legal team' without me. Second, dig out every single piece of paper related to The Sweet Spot's property – deeds, surveys, utility agreements, historical documents, anything that even smells like legal. We need to know exactly what he thinks he owns and what leverage we have."
"Already on it," Clara Mae confirmed, gesturing to the organized chaos of her office desk. "I found some old easements for shared alley access and utility lines. They look minor, but I have a bad feeling."
"Good. Bring them all to my office first thing tomorrow morning. I'll clear my schedule. This isn't a will, Clara Mae. This is a fight." Maggie paused. "And Clara Mae? It's going to be an expensive fight."
"I know," Clara Mae said, her gaze drifting to the cash register where the day's meager sales sat. She knew. But what was the alternative? Hand over her legacy? Let Willow Creek be swallowed by glass and steel?
"Then we fight," Maggie affirmed, a loyal fire in her voice. "For Willow Creek. And for the best darn snickerdoodles in the state."
After hanging up, Clara Mae felt a strange mix of dread and exhilaration. She had a lawyer. She had a plan. But her adversary was Alexander Sterling. The man whose company's logo probably hung on skyscrapers in half a dozen major cities.
Meanwhile, Alexander Sterling was not accustomed to being told no. Especially not by a flour-dusted baker in a small town he'd barely heard of a month ago. He was back in the sterile confines of his hotel room, a freshly brewed espresso in hand, staring at the crumpled offer form he'd retrieved from Clara Mae's trash bin. The sheer audacity of it.
His phone vibrated. It was Mark, his architect. "Offer sent, Alex. Waiting for confirmation of receipt. Anything else?"
"She tossed it," Alex stated, his voice flat. "Right into the garbage. Said it wasn't for sale. Said I underestimated her."
Mark chuckled, a little nervously. "Really? Well, that's… spirited. Not the typical response to a twenty percent premium."
"Indeed," Alex murmured, walking to the window. Willow Creek stretched out below, bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. The bakery, The Sweet Spot, looked deceptively charming from this height, its red awning a splash of color against the historical brick. "Looks like we have ourselves a… spirited negotiation."
"So, what's next?" Mark asked. "Do we go aggressive? Eminent domain threats? Start looking for other properties, bypass her entirely?"
Alex considered this. He could go aggressive. He had the legal firepower, the financial resources. He could make her life a living hell. But something in Clara Mae's fierce defiance had sparked not just annoyance, but a sliver of intrigued challenge. And the town council meeting was tomorrow. He wanted to project an image of a benevolent, albeit ambitious, developer. Not a bulldozer. Not yet.
"No," Alex decided. "Not yet. She's emotional. Give her time to cool down. Let her lawyer review the offer. Let her realize the reality of the situation. In the meantime, I need to understand her leverage."
"Her leverage?" Mark sounded incredulous. "Alex, she's running a small bakery. What leverage could she possibly have against Sterling Global?"
"Sentimentality, apparently," Alex said, a wry edge to his voice. "And… local support. I need to get a feel for the town. See how much influence she actually wields." He had underestimated her once, by dismissing her as an 'obstacle.' He wouldn't make that mistake again. He needed information.
He had a dinner reservation at the town's only upscale restaurant, The Gilded Spoon, with the mayor and a couple of key council members later that evening. He planned to butter them up, smooth over any anxieties about his development, and subtly gauge the local sentiment toward the bakery.
He stared down at The Sweet Spot again. The lights were coming on inside, casting a warm, inviting glow. He could almost smell the pastries from here. Alexander Sterling was a man who planned. He was a man who acquired. And he was a man who, despite his best efforts, was finding his thoughts returning, again and again, to a particular stubborn baker with flour on her cheek and fire in her eyes. This wasn't just a transaction anymore. It was becoming... personal.