This is nothow I usually conduct business meetings.
Yet here I am at eight in the morning, laptop open on a folding table that’s probably older than I am, surrounded by the organized chaos of Highland Community Center coming to life. Two weeks of collaboration meetings have taught me that Maya operates on Highland time—which means community needs come first, schedules second.
I’ve been here four times in the past two weeks, each meeting lasting longer than the last. Yesterday’s session ran until nearly dinner, and I found myself staying for Rosa’s siopao just to extend our conversation about mixed-use development precedents.
Maya rushes in from her office, coffee in one hand and a stack of folders in the other, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail that exposes the graceful line of her neck. She’s wearing a sundress that would be completely inappropriate in Pierce Enterprises’ conference rooms but fits perfectly in Highland’s relaxed atmosphere.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, settling into the folding chair across from me. The movement brings a hint of her perfume—something light and floral that’s been distracting me since our second meeting. “Tita Sol needed help organizing volunteers for tonight’s cultural celebration, and Rosa wanted to discuss catering budgets, and?—”
“Maya.” I close my laptop and give her my full attention, something I’ve found myself doing more frequently. “You don’t have to apologize for running Highland while we figure this out.”
She pauses mid-explanation, and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. The same smile that’s been haunting my thoughts during board meetings. “Right. I’m still getting used to the idea that Pierce Enterprises understands community centers have ongoing operations.”
“Pierce Enterprises is learning,” I correct. “This week has been educational.”
That’s an understatement. In two weeks, I’ve spent more time at Highland than in my own office—something Harrison has definitely noticed. His increasingly frequent “check-ins” about the collaboration’s progress have gotten sharper, more pointed. More threatening.
“So,” Maya opens one of her folders and pulls out a legal document marked with handwritten notes. “Tito Ricky reviewed your partnership agreement. He has suggestions.”
I take the document and scan the modifications. Most are reasonable—clearer timelines, specific deliverables, protection clauses. But one addition makes me pause.
“A termination clause that allows either party to end the collaboration with seventy-two hours’ notice?”
“His idea.” Maya’s voice carries a note of apology. “He wants to make sure Highland isn’t locked into something that becomes a waste of time.”
“Fair enough.” I make a note on my phone, hyperaware of how she leans slightly forward to read over my shoulder. “I’ll have Legal incorporate these changes.”
“Actually, there’s more.” Maya pulls out another folder, this one thick with research papers. “I’ve been looking into your mixed-use development suggestion.”
She spreads documents across the table, and I find myself leaning closer to study them. Close enough to catch that floral scent again, close enough to notice the way she bites her lower lip when concentrating.
“This project in Portland,” she points to an architectural rendering, “incorporated an existing community center into luxury condos. The developer got tax incentives for historic preservation, the community kept their gathering space, and new residents had access to cultural programs.”
I study the rendering, noting the way the historic building anchors the modern tower rising above it. The design is elegant, profitable, and—surprisingly—something I could actually envision for Highland.
“What were the financial numbers?”
“Construction costs were about fifteen percent higher than conventional demolition and rebuild, but tax incentives offset most of that. Plus, the unique design commanded premium prices for residential units.”
“You’ve done your homework.” I look up to find her watching me intently, her dark eyes bright with anticipation.
“I told you Highland wouldn’t go down without a fight.” Her smile is equal parts challenge and invitation. “I just didn’t mention that part of the fight would involve researching development strategies.”
“You researched development strategies?”
“I researched everything. Mixed-use projects, historic preservation tax codes, community benefit agreements, affordable housing requirements—” She pauses, looking almost embarrassed. “I may have spent the last three nights reading zoning law.”
“You spent three nights reading zoning law.” I’m genuinely impressed, and something else I don’t want to examine too closely. “Your boyfriend must be very understanding.”
“Boyfriend?” Maya laughs, the sound echoing through the hall. “I don’t have time for that. Highland takes all my waking hours, and apparently now my sleeping ones too.”
She shuffles her papers, but not before I catch the slight flush creeping up her throat. The sight does something to my pulse that has nothing to do with business partnerships.
“No one special, then?” The question slips out before I can filter it through professional courtesy.
She looks up, and the eye contact lasts longer than it should. “I didn’t say that. Just no one... current.”
The air between us shifts, becomes charged with something that definitely isn’t about development strategies. A pot clangs in the kitchen, breaking whatever spell was building.
