Chapter Eight
Sawyer trotted down the wooded trail. He’d known the moment he’d seen Bailey lead Sunny into the woods exactly where they were headed.
“Bailey?” he called out as he finally jogged into the clearing. “Sunny?” He kept on across the small overgrown meadow, the spindly wildflowers brushing against his thighs as he looked around, but saw no sign of either of them. He hadn’t let Bailey go inside when he’d shown her the old ruin, as he wasn’t at all certain how sound the big structure was. Most of it was glass, and the last thing they needed was broken shards coming down on their heads. “Bailey! Sunny!” he called out again, but got no answer. “Dammit.” He knew he wasn’t wrong about their coming here, which meant they’d likely gone inside. He’d have thought Sunny, at least, would have shown more sense.
He had to pry the greenhouse door open. The metal door was heavily rusted and protested loudly as he urged the hinges to move. When they did, he gave the handle a pretty good tug to open the door a bit wider. The overgrowth in front of the door didn’t help. Neither did the jumble of busted-up rocks that had once upon a time had been some kind of patterned stone patio in front of the entrance. Age had cracked the pavers and weeds had grown up tall and strong between the pieces. He didn’t want to waste time clearing, so he put his shoulder in the gap and shoved the door another inch or two, enough for him to wedge his body sideways through the opening. The interior was even more overgrown than the exterior. A variety of plants both indigenous to the mountains and not—a few banana trees filled an entire interior corner—had gone renegade a long time ago and sprouted up into a thick, unruly jungle. Many of them were as tall or taller than he was, which made seeing anything more than a few feet away from where he stood all but impossible.
Just as he opened his mouth to call out for them again, there was a rustling next to him and a breathless Sunny suddenly appeared in front of him, having pushed through a few tall stalks so that she almost landed on top of him. She staggered back a step, but righted herself before he could reach out to help. Her hair was a mess and there was foliage sticking out from somewhere in the back, as well as clinging to various parts of her body, but she wasn’t upset. In fact, she was beaming. Almost glowing. Her eyes were bright and her broad smile looked as if it was permanently etched on her flushed face. “Sawyer, oh thank God it’s you,” she said. “That squealing sound scared the bejeesus out of us. I was pretty sure that front door was rusted closed and thought maybe some kind of wildlife had gotten in.”
He gestured to their surroundings. “I think it’s a little late for that.”
She swiped at the hair clinging to her face, still grinning. “I meant the four-legged kind.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too surprised if they are already in here.” He looked down. “How do you feel about snakes?”
“Depends on what kind,” she said easily, not remotely spooked by the idea. “A few healthy black snakes are never a bad thing. Keeps the rodent population to a minimum.”
So much for making her aware of the potential dangers. She needed to be more concerned about being inside this place, if not for herself, then at least for Bailey.
Sawyer glanced behind Sunny just in time to see the young girl step into the small clearing they’d made. On seeing him, she instantly smoothed her worried expression back to her typical “it’s all good” countenance.
“Sorry,” he said to them both, “I called your names out a couple times, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
“What are you doing out here?” Sunny asked. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she went on, not waiting for him to reply.
“I saw you two go into the woods and I suspected this was where you were heading.” He glanced at Bailey, then back to Sunny. “I figured it might be too tempting to leave alone, but I don’t know if this place is very sound. It might not be a good idea to be in here.”
“Actually, considering it may have been abandoned for decades, I’m surprised at how passable the central atrium section is. The west wing is partly caved in on the back side, so we didn’t venture into that part.”
“We came in from the back of the other side,” Bailey told him, not appearing all that anxious about his disapproval. “The glass back there is completely gone, so it wasn’t any problem.”
“I went in first, checked it out,” she assured him. Sunny gestured overhead where they could see the surrounding glass walls. “The busted panes here and there let the weather pass through, so the air pressure is the same inside and out.” She turned and looked skyward up to the top of the huge soaring domed atrium that was the center of the structure. “Remember, this thing was built to withstand weather on the outside, but also to create its own weather conditions on the inside. The glass has actually held up pretty impressively. I’m not surprised we couldn’t hear you. The panes are thick and heavy. Even more impressive is the ironwork frame.” She pointed to the framework that extended into an intricate pattern up inside the dome. “Both impressive and enduring. You just don’t see workmanship like this anymore.” She turned in a small circle, her gaze still upward. “I mean, look at it, Sawyer. My goodness, just . . .” She let the words drift off as she turned in a slow circle again. “Look at it,” she repeated in obvious awe. “She’s absolutely stunning.”
Sawyer didn’t know what Sunny was seeing in her mind’s eye, but it was something other than reality. Yes, the place was immense, like a big glass warehouse. With the Victorian style of the domed central atrium, the ironwork, the scrolled filigree on the exterior, and the green leaded glass panes that made up the structure, it certainly, at one time, had been quite an architectural showpiece. But that time had long since come and gone. He doubted with the rust and decay, not to mention the mold and God knew what else was growing in there, that it was even salvageable at this point.
But he hadn’t missed the gleam in Sunny’s eyes as she took in the place. Clearly, she was seeing it as it had once been. When he’d shown the old relic to Bailey, he hadn’t stopped to think that given the passion Sunny obviously had for her work, the greenhouse could possibly be a big draw to her, where the mill had seemed more an albatross. Of course, back then he hadn’t known much about Sunny at all, and he hadn’t thought about the old ruin since that day he and Bailey had hiked out this way. Clearly, Bailey had been thinking about it.
At the moment, he wasn’t sure if he regretted having shown the place to Bailey or not. The day they’d come out here, he’d just been trying to show the girl more of the property she’d inherited. The old greenhouse had seemed like a good distraction, something to divert her attention away from the major upheaval she’d gone through that day, as her young life had once again been turned on its head.
“What was this place?” Sunny asked. “It’s too big to be someone’s personal greenhouse. Was there another business out here? It seems tucked away fairly well for that, but if it’s as old as the mill, or even in that ballpark, then maybe back then all of what is now old growth forest wasn’t a factor.” She turned to him. “Whoever owned it spent a pretty penny constructing it.”
“Genevieve Buchleitner Hartwell. Third wife to the fourth Barthlomew Hartwell. He had it commissioned for her as a wedding present just after the turn of the nineteenth century.”
Sunny’s eyes widened. “Wow. Quite the gift.”
Sawyer nodded. “That was near the end of the mill’s heyday and despite a future that was already looking a bit dim where silk production was concerned, the Hartwells had become both prestigious and quite wealthy. By local standards, anyway. Bartholomew’s ancestors had been wise enough to have invested their money over a much broader spectrum than silk production. A fact that remained true all the way down to Doyle, who apparently managed to blow through it all without contributing much back.”
Sunny nodded but didn’t seem all that interested in her father’s contributions, or lack thereof, to the family history. “You said it was his third wife?”
“The story goes that after his second wife died in childbirth—the first having also passed on due to pneumonia—he traveled overseas in hopes of finding new ways to improve silk production and keep the main Hartwell business afloat. He failed in that respect, but ended up coming home with an Austrian wife instead. By all reports, it was a true love match, and the otherwise rather tightfisted Bartholomew shocked everyone by having this place built for her.”
“Was she a botanist?”
Sawyer nodded. “It was quite a scandal. Both that she was educated and that she worked. The wife of someone of Bartholomew’s standing was expected to do her duty to support his interests, not her own. So she was something of an outcast with the women in town.” He smiled. “Not so much with the men. She was said to be smart, witty, and very beautiful. But also every bit as devoted to her husband as he was to her, forcing the locals to lust from afar.”
“Sounds like a paragon,” Sunny said, then smiled. “I wish I could have met her.”
“Addie has a bunch of old journals and things. There’s also a small library in town that has a whole section of historical memorabilia about the town and the mill. I’m positive there is more there about her, too.”
Sunny looked upward again to the top of the atrium, then to the jungle that had filled the place. “What did she do with it? Surely with a place this size it was something more than pursuing her own work or research. This is more than one person could really utilize or maintain.”
“I don’t know,” Sawyer said. “I never thought to ask.” He looked around, too, trying to imagine it through Sunny’s eyes. He was mostly aware of the dilapidation and the decay and the overwhelming scent of jungle foliage, not all of it still thriving.
She sighed. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do with something like this.” She looked at him, her gold eyes gleaming, and gave him a sardonic grin. “But I sure wouldn’t mind trying.”
The combination of joy, passion, and humor stirred his blood . . . and in turn that stirred some other parts of him he was better off not thinking about. Then it hit Sawyer that Sunny didn’t know. Bailey hadn’t told her, or maybe Bailey assumed she’d already understood.
Would Sunny feel a stronger connection to Blue Hollow Falls, too, once she realized that the old greenhouse was on mill property and therefore part of her inheritance? He’d thought about her a great deal in the week since their D.C. excursion. In fact, he’d spent far too much time thinking about her. With distance and the application of rational thought not fueled by hormones, his cocky insouciance that day by the food truck had faded. A more grounded, realistic viewpoint had taken its place. Ultimately, he’d decided that maybe she’d had the right idea when she’d simply walked away from what he’d been suggesting. Why complicate things? Wasn’t it enough that he had a new stepsister on the premises? A mill to overhaul? A town to re-energize? Not to mention the fact that Sunny lived and worked over three hours away from the Hollow. It would be for the best all around if she went on about her business as planned, keeping her share of the mill tucked away on a shelf somewhere, off her mind and out of his hair.
“Do you think it can be fixed?”
Both Sunny and Sawyer looked at Bailey, who was holding the two of them in steady regard.
“The greenhouse?” Sawyer asked.
Bailey nodded, and Sunny said, “Maybe part of it. I don’t know if it could all be saved. Those areas on the other end have fully collapsed. I’m not sure what caused the iron to give way there, maybe something fell on it at one point, but whatever the case, it also allowed the weather to get to that part in a far more destructive way. I’m not sure, but it’s possible, given how the framework was constructed, that the loss to the structural integrity there would make the rest of it unsound.” She sighed. “Sawyer is right about that part. We really shouldn’t poke around more than we already have. Not without further examining it from the exterior at any rate.”
“But you can’t see the outside from the back,” Bailey said. “It’s almost totally overgrown.”
“Which likely helped hold it up, too,” Sunny told her. “That growth created a barricade of sorts.” Sunny let out a sigh, clearly as disappointed by the verdict as Bailey, maybe more so. “I can’t even imagine what it would cost to restore it, though, even if you could. Sanitation alone, with the mold and mildew . . .” She trailed off, shook her head. “On the other hand, it would feel so wrong to tear it down. But I guess that’s not an issue, or it would have happened a long time ago.” She looked at Bailey. “So, I guess it remains a relic.”
“Would you do something with it if you could?” the young girl persisted.
“I . . .” Sunny let out a short laugh. “I don’t know. Sure, yes, of course. But that’s kind of like asking me would I like winning the lottery. Who wouldn’t?”
“If I gave you my share, would that help?”
“Bailey—” Sawyer started, but Sunny responded at the same time. And what, really, would he have said? Shh, don’t tell her?
“Your share of what? The mill?” Sunny hunched down so she was more on eye level with Bailey. “That’s an incredibly kind offer. In fact, it’s kind of funny, because that was something I planned to talk to you and Addie about. About putting my share in a trust for you, for when you’re of age and can decide to do what you want with it.”
Instead of Bailey’s eyes widening in surprise, or pleasure, or gratitude, or any of those understandable reactions, a look of crestfallen disappointment flickered over her expression, before she quickly schooled it once again to one of careful indifference.
Sunny must have noticed, too, because she laid a blue-gloved hand on Bailey’s arm. “It was so thoughtful and sweet of you to offer, honestly it was. And I love that you like this old place, too, and would want to restore it to its former glory, so much you’d give up one of the few things of value you have. I mean that. More than you know.”
Sawyer didn’t question Sunny’s sincerity, and he appreciated that she was trying to do right by Bailey. Now, and for the girl’s future. She’d caught him off guard with talk of a trust, but it spoke well of her. Very well, indeed. Apparently the two of them were on the same wavelength about how things should progress between them. That was good. A relief, really.
So why did he feel the sudden urge to rip a few of those banana trees up by their roots? Or something equally testosterone fueled and stupid?
“I’m afraid it would take a lot more than that to help this old place anyway,” Sunny told her.
“It wasn’t just the mill,” Bailey said, but so quietly the words barely reached Sawyer’s ears.
“What?” Sunny asked. She’d begun to straighten, but crouched down again to hear Bailey.
Bailey looked at her directly. “You’re not coming back again.” She didn’t make it a question.
“I—” That had caught Sunny off guard.
Sawyer, too, but he found he was as curious to hear Sunny’s response as Bailey might be.
“Why do you think that?” Sunny asked by way of reply.
“You’re giving up your share of your inheritance.” Bailey looked at her. “What if I don’t want it?”
Sunny looked as taken aback by that comment as Sawyer must have. She hadn’t tossed it in Sunny’s face or anything. It was more like a sincere question.
“Well, then it will be your call to do with it whatever you want. That’s why I want it in a trust. So you can decide when you’re old enough to know more what you do want, what you don’t.”
“So you know you don’t want it.” Another statement, and more disappointment creeping past her normally stoic exterior.
“It’s not that, Bailey. It’s . . . I have a home. I have—I was trying to do something for you, give you a stronger foundation. I know we don’t know each other and didn’t even know we had a sister less than a month ago.” She smiled, and lifted her shoulders. “Yet here we are, related.” When Bailey said nothing, she added, “I didn’t have an easy go of it when I was your age. Our father was kind enough, at least in my mother’s case, to give her a place to live. I never knew the man, and I have a lot of mixed feelings about the other choices he made in his life, but that one thing he did saved my mom and me. A hundred times over. A thousand.” She let her hand drop from Bailey’s arm. “I don’t have an empty house to give you, but I do have a share of a mill, and if it helps give you some stability, like our father gave me and my mom, then I want to do that. That’s all there is to it. It doesn’t mean I’m washing my hands of this place. Or you.” She shifted on her feet as her legs got a little wobbly, but remained in a crouch. “I meant what I said before, when we were walking out here. I want you to come visit me. I do plan to be in your life, and I’m hoping you feel the same way about being in mine.”
Bailey listened to everything Sunny said. Then she simply looked up at Sawyer, her expression sober once again. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
“Know what?” Sunny asked.
Sawyer sighed.
“This greenhouse is part of your inheritance, too,” Bailey and Sawyer said at the same time.
“It’s on mill property,” Sawyer said. “I think that’s the share Bailey was trying to give you, with or without the mill part tacked on.”
Bailey nodded. “You could have both, if it helped.”
Sawyer wasn’t sure if it was that bit of news, or if Sunny’s legs finally gave out, but her eyes went wide, and so did her balance, sending her sprawling backward on her butt into the muck and dirt.
Sawyer’s and Bailey’s eyes caught, their mouths curved in almost exactly the same dry smile. Sawyer thought he might have snorted first, but maybe it was Bailey. In the end, all three of them erupted into gales of laughter.
“So,” Bailey wanted to know, when they finally regained their wits, and both of them helped to pull Sunny up to her feet. “Is that a yes?”