Chapter Twenty
Addie had been elbow deep down in her studio, prepping materials for her upcoming classes in North Carolina, so she’d opted to stay at her cabin. The rest of them caravanned down to the mill. Sunny was beyond curious about the surprise they’d apparently all been cooking up. She honestly hadn’t a clue. Privately, her real hope was that whatever it was wouldn’t take all that much time to show her, so she could make all the appropriate noises, and still have time to head to the woods and out to the greenhouse before the sun started to set.
They pulled in around the back of the mill. The snow was all but gone there. She was looking forward to seeing the mill blanketed in snow, like Sawyer’s property had been. Sawyer had told her that in cold winters, a good part of the falls would actually freeze over, looking almost as if they’d frozen in motion. She was fascinated by that and would love to see it, but she wasn’t otherwise rooting for a heavy winter. The clearer the roads remained, the easier it would be for her and Sawyer to see each other.
She was already not looking forward to going home alone in the morning. Buck up, ya big baby. She’d been giving herself variations of the “you could have worse problems” pep talks during the entire drive down earlier that day. But time felt like it was already racing by, and she wasn’t ready to leave him yet. Truth be told, she wasn’t ready to leave everyone else, either.
She climbed out of the truck as Seth pulled in with Bailey riding shotgun in his Land Rover. She wasn’t sure what to make of Bailey’s sudden lack of interest in coming to see her the following three-day weekend, but hoped it had more to do with the lambs than anything personal that might have suddenly turned her off. Sunny had planned all kinds of what she hoped would be fun outings for the two of them, and yes, there was work to be done, but she’d been hoping to make that fun for Bailey, too. She supposed she should have thought the whole lamb thing through a bit more. Of course Bailey wouldn’t want to leave them so soon.
But there was no lack of enthusiasm now, she noted, as Bailey was all but dragging Seth by the hand. “Come on,” she urged.
Sunny started walking toward the back door to the mill, looking forward to seeing firsthand what had been done during the past week. She was amazed at how quickly it all seemed to be coming together now. Sawyer and Addie had been sending her photos, and now that the space had all been framed out and the subfloors and drywall were up, the whole layout was quite clear to see. Looking at those photos, she could hardly believe it was the same cavernous relic she’d walked into that first day. It felt like a full lifetime ago now.
But Bailey wasn’t tugging Seth toward the mill. The two of them started off across what was now more mud than grass toward—she stopped dead in her tracks and looked back at Sawyer, trying like hell not to think what she was instantly thinking.
He must have read something of the cascade of thoughts and hope and curiosity and . . . hope that crossed her face. He came around the front of his truck and took her hand. “Come on,” he said.
“You realize I might die at least five times in the next five minutes if you don’t tell me what—”
He turned in front of her so she neatly walked straight into his chest, cupped her cheek, and kissed her until she calmed down. Calm being a relative term, but he’d successfully diverted her attention at any rate.
He lifted his mouth from hers and said, “It’s Bailey’s surprise. I’m just along for the ride.”
Sunny calmed down then, because, well, Bailey was amazing, but she was only ten years old. So, whatever this was, it wasn’t likely to be about the one thing Sunny knew lay down this path. Her greenhouse.
Well, Bailey’s greenhouse, and Addie’s and Sawyer’s, as they all technically owned a piece of it. But in her heart, it would always be her greenhouse. She couldn’t help it.
The trail felt like it went on even longer this time, and she had the sudden thought maybe they were actually going to that overlook Sawyer had mentioned way back the first time they’d come out this way, the one he’d taken Bailey up to see her first day in the Hollow.
But just before they got to the clearing, Bailey turned around, and ran back to her and Sawyer. “Close your eyes,” she instructed Sunny, sounding intensely serious and wound tighter than a drum, all at the same time. She took Sunny’s hand in her own, and waited until Sunny complied.
“But—”
Sawyer took Sunny’s other hand, leaned in, and whispered, “Have faith.”
Sunny nodded, and tried to block out every wish she’d ever wished about the greenhouse, and there had been far too many of those made, usually when she was lying in bed at night, unable to sleep, too busy thinking about the amazing twists and turns her life had taken since that pretty fall day in Turtle Springs.
They led her slowly forward so she didn’t trip over any tree roots or rocks. She could feel the sun on her face the moment they left the thick stand of pine trees.
“Okay,” Bailey said, her voice almost painfully tight. “Open them.”
As she said this, she was all but squeezing the life out of Sunny’s hand. A moment later, both of Sunny’s hands were covering her mouth, her gasp the single sound filling the air.
“We only just started,” Bailey hurried to say.
Somehow Sunny managed to tear her gaze away from the greenhouse, and the grounds surrounding it, to look down at Bailey, whose little face was creased with more anxiety than any ten-year-old should ever be feeling.
“You did this?” Sunny managed, still in shock. “But . . . how?”
“I had help,” she said, still anxious.
“Oh . . . my . . .” Sunny might have stumbled forward a step, but Sawyer took her elbow. She felt something damp on her cheeks and brushed at them, only to realize that they were tears.
“She’s crying,” Bailey whispered fiercely to Sawyer.
Sunny pulled herself together then, and sank to her knees, heedless of the mud and muck and pulled Bailey into her arms, almost hugging the life out of her. “I don’t know how you did this, but you are the most amazing girl I’ve ever met.”
Bailey held Sunny’s shoulders and looked her square in the face, making sure she didn’t misunderstand. “So . . . you like it?”
“Like it?” Sunny sat back and laughed in shock. “It’s . . .” She trailed off again and looked past Bailey to the greenhouse and, with Sawyer’s help, slowly got to her feet. With her hand on Bailey’s shoulder, they both turned to survey the area. The land around the greenhouse had been completely cleared, and all the vines and weeds and growth that had covered the front of the building had been removed. That alone made such a tremendous difference, she almost didn’t recognize the place.
The oversized front door had been scrubbed clean as much as it could be and was hanging correctly on what appeared to be new hinges. The glass panes on the front of the atrium appeared to have been scrubbed as well. She could see inside better there than through the panes on the west and east wings that jutted out to either side. The scroll trim that bordered the front of the atrium peak had been cleaned and whatever white paint had remained, along with all the mold, scale, and Lord knew what else had been scraped off and stripped down to the wrought iron. It gave the place an entirely different look. More . . . regal, less folly.
“We haven’t gotten to the rest of the glass on the front. Some of it needs to be replaced.” Bailey glanced at Sawyer, her expression still worried, then said, “Probably more than some.”
Sunny dragged her gaze away again and looked down at Bailey. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life.”
Bailey’s wiry frame relaxed and her face split into a wide grin as she let herself begin to believe her plan was going to work out the way she wanted it to. “Seth and I started to clear out stuff from the inside, but then I wasn’t sure if you wanted to keep any of it. The plants, I mean.” She started pulling Sunny forward. “We took out a lot of the dead stuff, and most of the tables and stuff are rotted.”
“I—I don’t understand,” Sunny said, trotting along behind her now. She cast a glance back at Seth. “You helped her with this?”
He nodded. “She’s not just the lamb whisperer,” he said, chuckling. “I think she’s had the better part of half the town up here at one point or the other. We all pitched in, but it’s a worthy cause.”
“But—” Sunny finally slowed as they reached the door, and gently tugged Bailey back around to look at her. “Why?”
“So you’d have a place here, too,” Bailey said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sunny looked helplessly at Sawyer, who finally spoke up. “Seth had a builder friend of his come give it a look before they did anything. Bailey had the idea, but Seth wasn’t sure the structural integrity hadn’t been compromised by the part in the back that’s caved in. Apparently, that part is a total loss, but the contractor said it could just be cut out and a new back wall installed closer in. So the two sides will be different sizes. He admitted he didn’t know anything about how greenhouses worked, so, I don’t know if that matters, but he said the overall structure would be stable and functional in a general sense.”
Sunny was still trying to process everything, but one big chunk of reality managed to stomp right through all the pretty fairy-tales-do-come-true part. “That’s going to cost—all of this is going to—”
Sawyer tugged her close and gave her a hug. “That’s okay. At the moment, the only cost has been sweat equity and a few door hinges. The equity was donated.” He grinned. “The hinges however, those are gonna cost you.”
“Addie gives me an allowance for chores,” Bailey said. “I can chip in.”
Sunny laughed and said, “Oh, sweetie, if anyone owes anyone anything, it’s me to you.” She smiled. “But it was very kind of you to offer.” She looked at Seth and Sawyer. “I don’t know how to thank you, or everyone else who pitched in. I know you’re all already working overtime on the mill, so I don’t know how . . .” She trailed off and looked up at the atrium again. It was still a long way from being functional. A very, very long way. But there was promise now, and hope. She reached out and laid her hand on the front door, as if she was making a silent promise to the place that it was in good hands now. Just as she was.
She didn’t realize she was crying again until she heard Bailey whisper as much to Sawyer. Apparently, to Bailey, there were no tears in reconstruction.
“It’s a worthy cause,” Seth said. “We figure when the boss man is happy, we’re all happy. And what makes him happy, is making you happy. Simple math really.” His smile deepened and she saw there were indeed dimples underneath that beard. “It’s what small towns do, Sunny. Everyone pitches in. Like plowing you all out of the cabin. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to pay it back when someone else is in need. It’s like they say in The Lion King. It’s the circle of life.” He lifted his arms skyward, as if he was raising up baby Simba.
Sunny laughed even as the tears continued to trickle down her cheeks. “Well, that’s beyond all possible kindness,” she told him. “But I can’t expect or even ask for any more, and this is still—”
“Shh,” Sawyer said. “Let’s go inside.” He leaned closer. “The universe is talking,” he whispered. “Just listen for a bit. See where it takes us.”
“About that,” she said, dashing her tears away, smiling up into his beautiful face. “It’s been talking to me for a while now. I have . . . there’s something we need to talk about.”