Chapter 2 — Ice-Cold Reception

Third Person (focus on Sophie and Jack)

The harbor buzzed with life, a symphony of activity that underscored Sophie’s sense of solitude. The creak of wooden planks beneath her boots, the acrid tang of diesel mingling with the crisp salt air, and the rhythmic slap of waves against hulls painted a vivid picture of the town’s pulse. Yet, she felt like an intruder, her every step drawing the sharp, scrutinizing gaze of the fishermen who clustered in tight, weathered groups.

She’d left her father’s old house that morning before dawn, unable to endure the oppressive stillness of the place. The faint scent of pine and something medicinal lingered in the small, drafty rooms, a quiet reminder of a man she hadn’t fully understood. Wrapping herself in her thickest coat, she’d braved the icy wind, her breath forming pale clouds as she made her way to the harbor. Each step toward the water felt heavier, the weight of unspoken expectations pressing down on her shoulders.

As she approached the docks, Sophie was struck by how unchanged the scene looked—a tableau frozen in time. Fishermen moved in a rhythm born of years of shared labor, their voices rising and falling in clipped, pragmatic tones. Crates of fish were hauled from boats with practiced efficiency, the air alive with the sharp cries of gulls circling above. Yet it was the camaraderie among the men that drew her attention most. A gruff shout was met with a bark of laughter; a weathered hand reached out to steady a precarious load. They operated as a single, cohesive unit, their shared history palpable in the smallest gestures.

Sophie stopped at the edge of the dock, suddenly aware of how her presence disrupted the flow. Her heeled boots—sensible by Manhattan standards—sank slightly into the damp wooden planks, a glaring anomaly amidst rubber-soled practicality. She could feel their eyes on her, flicking from her feet to her face, their expressions a blend of curiosity and judgment. The air seemed colder here, biting through even her thick coat.

One figure stood apart from the rest, his stance as solid and unyielding as the rocky cliffs that framed the harbor. He was broad-shouldered and clad in a flannel shirt layered beneath a thick, well-worn jacket. The knit cap pulled low over his sun-streaked brown hair couldn’t hide the sharp planes of his face or the lines etched by years of braving the sea. His piercing blue eyes locked onto her, cold and unyielding as the waters beyond the harbor.

Sophie’s chest tightened. Jack Lawson.

She recognized him instantly, though the years had transformed him. The boyish charm she remembered had been replaced by a harder edge, his smile now absent beneath the scruffy beard framing his jaw. His gaze carried a weight that made her falter for a moment before she forced herself to steady.

Jack’s lips curled into a faint scowl, and she felt the tension radiating from him even before he spoke.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice low and laced with sarcasm. “Look who’s decided to grace us with her presence.”

Sophie squared her shoulders, forcing her voice into the polished, professional tone she’d spent years perfecting. “Good morning,” she said evenly. “I’m Sophie Carter.”

“I know who you are.” Jack’s response was clipped, each word landing with the weight of stone. He crossed his arms over his chest, his calloused hands visible even from a distance. “You’re the one who left.”

The accusation hit harder than she expected. Around them, the fishermen’s murmurs quieted, their attention shifting almost imperceptibly toward the exchange. Sophie felt the collective judgment thick in the air, pressing against her like the icy wind off the sea.

“I came back to settle my father’s affairs,” she said after a pause, her voice even but firmer. “I’m here to figure out what’s best for the market and the town.”

Jack let out a dry laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “What’s best for the town? You think you know what that is?” He stepped closer, and Sophie fought the instinct to step back. “You’ve been gone for fifteen years. You don’t have a clue what this town needs.”

Her hands clenched inside her coat pockets, the cool professionalism she relied on slipping beneath the weight of his scorn. “I’m trying to understand,” she said, her tone sharpening. “Which is why I’m here. But I need time to—”

“You don’t have time,” Jack cut her off, his voice rising. “This market is hanging on by a thread. The fishermen—myself included—are barely scraping by, and now we’ve got some corporation sniffing around, waiting to pick at the bones.” He gestured sharply toward the market in the distance, the peeling paint and sagging beams stark against the steel-gray sky. “Your father kept this place alive for years. And now he’s gone. You think you can just waltz in here and fix it?”

Sophie bristled, the spark of frustration flaring into a steady burn. “I don’t pretend to have all the answers,” she snapped. “But I’m here now, aren’t I? I could’ve just sold the market and walked away, but I didn’t.”

“Not yet,” Jack said, his voice quieter but no less cutting. His eyes narrowed. “But I bet that’s exactly what you’re planning.”

Her jaw tightened, and she took a step forward, closing the space between them. “Don’t presume to know what I’m planning.”

“Oh, I think I know,” Jack shot back, his blue eyes blazing. “You’re just like the buyers who’ve been circling this place—looking to turn a quick profit and leave the rest of us to deal with the fallout.”

“That’s not fair,” Sophie said, her voice trembling slightly despite her efforts to stay composed. “You don’t know me.”

“I knew your father,” Jack snapped, the words cutting through her defenses. “And I know he’d be ashamed to see what’s happening here.”

The accusation struck like a blow, and for a moment, Sophie couldn’t breathe. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, she stared at Jack, her chest tight and her breath hitching in the frigid air.

The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. Around them, the fishermen had gone still, their work momentarily forgotten. Sophie felt their judgment like a physical weight, cold and unrelenting.

Jack’s voice softened slightly, though the edge remained. “If you really want to help this town,” he said, “stop thinking like a New Yorker and start listening to the people who actually live here.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his boots thudding against the wooden dock. Sophie stood frozen, the chill in the air sinking deep into her skin.

She glanced around, catching the eyes of a few fishermen. Some looked away quickly, while others held her gaze for a beat longer, their expressions unreadable.

Pulling her coat tighter around her, Sophie turned on her heel and walked back toward the market. Her heels clicked against the boards, each step echoing sharply in the stillness. As she reached the edge of the dock, she paused, her gaze drifting out to the water. The harbor was calm, the boats bobbing gently in their moorings. But beyond the inlet, the open sea stretched endlessly, its surface dark and rippling with hidden currents.

For the first time, Sophie felt the full weight of what she’d inherited—not just the debts and the market, but the expectations, the history, and the unspoken responsibility to a community that didn’t trust her.

She closed her eyes briefly, her breath trembling in the icy air. When she opened them, her jaw was set, her hazel eyes hard.

Let them doubt her. Let them resent her. She’d prove she wasn’t just another outsider. She wasn’t sure how, but she would.

For now, though, she had to find her footing in a town that seemed determined to knock her down.

And Jack Lawson, she realized, wasn’t going to make that easy.