Page 73 of Just My Luck

I let a water droplet fall from my fingertip onto her shoulder and watched as it slid down her arm and disappeared into the hot water. “She’s talented. I’ve been reaching out to local artists to design some new labels, so I have seen a lot of drawings lately. I think, especially at her age, she’s got skill.”

Sloane considered. “Maybe I need to enroll her in some art classes or something... now that I have the money.”

I chuckled. “Now that you’re a rich lady, you can do whatever you want.”

My joke didn’t seem to land, and Sloane grew quiet. In the small tub, she maneuvered to face me. “The money won’t change me. I’m still the same person.”

I studied her face, curious as to where this was coming from. “I know that.”

Her arms rested on the top of mine, and she looked me in the eye. “I’m serious. Nothing’s changed.”

I only managed a nod.

Nothing’s changed? Are you fucking kidding me?

Everything has changed.

TWENTY-SIX

SLOANE

The early summersun heated my shoulders as I walked across the blackened shell of what used to be my granddad’s living room. Taking it all in was surprisingly cathartic. After all the times I’d driven past the shell of our former safe haven, I had learned to ignore it. I had shoved down the fear and the heartache. Now there was no ignoring the acrid smell of burned plastic and wood and the hint of rot after the home had been exposed to the elements.

We all need a fresh start.

“Be careful of your footing,” Beckett Miller warned me and his wife, Kate, as we surveyed the property. Much of the debris had been cleared during the investigation, and only a few walls were still upright.

I nodded and carefully stepped over a burned-up lump of something. “The fire department and police cleared the scene, but it’s kind of an explore-at-your-own-risk situation.”

My toe kicked a partially metal frame that used to contain a picture of me holding the twins. My stomach soured.

“The assessment from the structural engineer came back.” Based on Beckett’s soft tone, I assumed it wasn’t good news.“Unfortunately, the home is going to have to be considered a total loss.” He looked at me with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Sloane.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I wasn’t really surprised by the news, but I’d still held out a shred of hope. “I understand.”

Kate pointed to a far wall that had remained standing despite the fire. “What about the brick?”

Beckett nodded. “That’s our silver lining. If we take on the project, I believe there are several aspects of the original structure that we can use in a new build.” Excitement built in his eyes as he gestured toward a small table outside on the lawn, and we followed him out. “I dug into the archives at the Remington County Historical Association.”

Once we reached the table, Beckett fingered through a few sheets of paper, bringing forward several black-and-white photos. He pointed at a picture of my granddad’s farmhouse, only it looked slightly different. “It was an impressive home. For the time, it would have been a gorgeous estate.”

Kate sighed, her finger sweeping across the covered porch that wrapped around the building. “Look at that porch. It wraps all the way around for a double entrance. And the scallop details on the roof fascia paired with the wood-slat soffit? Stunning.”

I looked closely at the photograph. “The porch wasn’t as big. It had two smaller staircases to the entrances.” I pointed to the small crumbling, burned staircase that remained. “That led to a little vestibule or something, and the other led to the kitchen.”

Kate nodded. “It was common in the eighties and nineties to separate everything. Split levels were all the rage at that time and, unfortunately, older homes like these were hacked apart to fit the aesthetic. I’m sure the interior was similarly remodeled.”

“Here’s what I’m thinking.” Beckett’s evident enthusiasm captured our attention. “We have a real opportunity to return this home to its former glory. While we will never be able togive you back the house that is gone, we can provide a home that feels as though it was built in the eighteen hundreds—only with updated touches and modern conveniences. Kate and I will work to incorporate any salvageable parts of the original house, but create your family something that is completely new. Yours. It will be something that will stand the test of time for future generations.”

I held my breath as his words sank in. I looked out to the burned remains of the farmhouse. The idea that anyone could take something so damaged—so ruined—and see past the rubble to the beauty at its core was arresting. He may not have realized it, but it was the perfect parallel to my own life and what I was desperately trying to do for my children.

There was still a chance to take bits and pieces of my past and rebuild them into something magical—something better than I could have ever hoped for.

Kate gripped her husband’s arm. It was clear they were both excited about the prospect of taking on this job. I took a split second to check in with my gut and grinned.

I stuck my hand out between them. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller... you’re hired!”

Kate grabbed my hand and pulled me into a hug with a delighted squeal. “I am so excited about this! I have so many ideas.”

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