Page 9 of In the Works

“You’re a goofball.” I laughed at him. After a moment, I walked over to the dining room table and set the wedge on it. The table wobbled slightly as I set it down.

Shit. I’m gonna have to take that down to the shop.

Upside of building all my furniture myself: I don’t have to buy anything. Downside: I have to fix everything.

I popped open some windows, letting the fresh air fill the stale house. The wind brought in a fresh floral scent, maybe a lilac blooming somewhere on the property. But it also brought Sarah back to my mind.

Did she really think I should go back to carpentry?

Looking around, my house was full of handcrafted art. I started whittling in trade school, a joke amongst my hometown friends. Sarah used to say my work should be in museums, and everyone would giggle.

Of course, it was lucrative for a while. But it required a commitment I wasn’t ready to make. The firewood industry was booming in New Winford. The market for handcrafted wood sculptures? Not so much.

I took a seat on an old rocking chair on my porch. Sarah had been a bit disappointed when I stopped making stuff, but she was too distracted by screaming toddlers to have a strong opinion on it. All her energy went to that, not to convincing me of the importance of art.

But now, Sarah seemed to feel differently.

I grabbed my phone and opened our old text chain. It had been untouched for a couple years. Ava’s birth had been the final straw in Sarah’s attention span. And who could blame her?

I typed out a message and left my finger hovering over the send button. It would be so easy to hit send, to let all of the hurt feelings disappear. At least for now.

But instead, I closed the messages app and set my phone on the table.

I brewed myself a cup of coffee and stared at the forest outside my windows. The sun had moved into its early evening position, casting longer shadows over the property.

If she’s serious about catching up, she’ll find the time.

6

SARAH

After a few days of texting,Vic finally invited me to the lake house for a tour. We had gone back and forth with style inspiration and some vague ideas. But without seeing the place myself, there was only so much I could offer.

I blasted the air conditioning in my minivan, hoping it would keep my light makeup from running in the late spring warmth.

My stomach flipped as I turned down Winford Valley Road. The steep hill was hard for the van to handle.

As the hunk of metal chugged along, I bit my lip, praying the engine would hold out.

Luckily, I reached the wrought-iron fence just as the car was starting to thud. Before I could type anything into the keycode panel, the gate swung open with a low, mechanized hum.

“I guess she’s expecting me.” I shrugged as I pulled into the driveway.

A line of trees covered the first few hundred feet of the driveway, blocking the view beyond the fence from outsiders. But once the minivan rolled past the treeline, my mouth dropped open.

“Holy shit.”

Before me, a dreamy landscape unfolded. The picturesque, farm-style house sat perfectly on the shore of a lightly ebbing lake. The water glimmered as the late spring sun met its surface. Even the old, worn-down windows of the house seemed to reflect that sparkle.

The view was so stunning I had to remind myself to keep my eyes on the drive. Spotting Robin’s work truck at the top of the hill, I pulled up next to it and put the car in park. By the time I turned off the engine and collected my bags, Victoria was stepping out onto the front porch.

The way she waved down at my car, everything about her radiated grace.

I swallowed my nerves, forcing the lump in my throat back down into my chest.This is a business meeting, and I’m a competent business woman.But as soon as I opened the car door, a reflexive apology escaped my lips. “Sorry, I’m late!”

Vic looked down at me, a sly smile taking over her face. “It’s easy to be on time when you live at the destination.”

“True.” I secured my purse to my shoulder and walked up the creaking porch steps.

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