Chapter 11
11
S am would later wonder what made him invite Hope to see the farmhouse. His parents had only been there twice, and there’d been enough comments beginning with Do you really want to live here from his mother to This place needs more than a facelift from his father. And, of course, Edgar Harrington just had to add the zinger. A bulldozer might be the better choice.
Sam didn’t see it that way when he stood on the stoop of the farmhouse, looking out over the property. What he saw was possibility and lots of it—a chance to explore his dreams, ones that included building a safe haven for older animals, a nature area for injured wildlife to recover, and a workshop that taught children about animal care and how to be a good pet owner.
He had so many ideas, but he didn’t share them with many people. He’d rather wait until he could implement a few before he expanded on his plans. People were funny about believing someone who’d disappointed them before or hurt someone they cared about. Sam did share with Pete Finnegan because the man understood what it was like to have most of the town against you, including your father. You’ll help the town , Pete had said. Do you ever wonder how many kids grow up and never see a real chicken or a goat, except for pictures in a book or on a screen? Whatever animals you decide to bring to the farm will be an experience for them. A real experience not some auto-generated creation from a computer screen.
They’d had conversations about the possibilities for this place and Pete expressed an interest in helping develop those areas as well: a pet sanctuary, an updated barn, a petting area, a pond stocked with various types of fish… You could have your own slice of heaven right here.
The other reason Sam and Pete got along so well was the fact that they had similar backstories; they’d both chosen the wrong path and left their family behind. And they’d both ended up limping back into town and looking for their father’s forgiveness. Yeah, that last one had a definite similarity that had created a bond between the two men.
He’d hesitated about inviting Hope to the farmhouse but convinced himself he was only doing it to show her another slice of Magdalena. But the truth hit him seconds after she said yes to his invitation. Sam wanted her to see another side of himself—a better side where he was more than just his bad choices and uncertain future.
Sam tried to ignore the pleasure spreading through him when she accepted. Wednesday was his day off, and he’d stopped at Sal’s Market to pick up subs for lunch. Of course, Ava Ventori had descended upon Sam the instant she spotted him, her gaze landing on the contents of his cart. Nice to see you again, Sam. Looks like you’re going to have a good lunch. Don’t forget to check out the pies and cookies. The smile she gave him said she had an idea who might be joining him for lunch, but thankfully, her husband intervened from what would, no doubt, turn into thirty questions. You’ve got someone interested in placing an order for a river rock , he said. I told them you’d be right over. One more smile and a soft, Enjoy your lunch before she disappeared. Law shook Sam’s hand and said, Get out of here while you still can before she comes back and begins the next ten questions.
Sam grabbed two bags of potato chips and two chocolate chunk cookies and zipped through the checkout line before Ava could finish with her potential customer. How bad-boy Law Carlisle and good-girl Ava Ventori ended up married was curious. But one look at them together told the story: they belonged together, loved each other. They’d been lucky.
Sam placed the food in the back seat of his truck and headed to the Heart Sent. When he pulled into the driveway of the B&B, Hope must have been waiting for him because she opened the door and bounded down the steps. The designer jeans seemed out of place with the powder-blue sweatshirt and work boots. Had she borrowed them from Mimi? Interesting possibility. When Hope opened the truck door, she hopped inside, smiled, and tossed out a casual, “I’m really looking forward to seeing the place.”
“I’m looking forward to showing it to you.” Sam took in the long braid, the sweatshirt, and jeans… The minimal makeup. His gaze landed on her ears, slid to her neck. “No pearls?”
The palest blush covered her cheeks. “They didn’t seem appropriate for this outing.” She touched her braid. “Neither did a chignon or bun.”
“I like the look. It’s more natural. Are the sweatshirt and boots from Mimi’s closet?” He tried to hide a smile, failed. They had to be Mimi’s.
The blush shifted from pale pink to fuchsia, accompanied by a nod. “I didn’t think a cashmere sweater made sense and I didn’t have time to head into town for anything.”
“They suit you. Besides, we’ll be trekking around the property and you’ll want comfort more than style.” He eased the truck down the driveway, headed toward the road leading outside of town. “Do not underestimate the value of a solid sweatshirt around here, especially in the spring.” He pointed to his jean jacket and long-sleeved T-shirt. “But this jacket and T-shirt are equally versatile. You should consider getting a few of these.”
She opened her sunglass case, eased the designer sunglasses onto her face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do that.” As Sam navigated the twists and turns of the road leading to the farmhouse, he realized he hadn’t felt this lighthearted in a long time. His mood made him more talkative, less cautious, and while he might not want to admit it, Hope Newland was the reason. As they rounded a bend, an old farmhouse came into view, set back several hundred yards.
“Is that your place?”
No missing the curiosity in her voice. She leaned forward, placed her hands on the dashboard.
“That’s it.” Sam pulled into the long gravel drive, made his way toward the sad-looking farmhouse that used to be white and was now, at best, an off-white, dingy gray. “I like to say it has possibilities.” He laughed, added, “My mother does not agree.”
“So, she doesn’t approve?” She didn’t wait for him to respond but offered her own thoughts. “Maybe she doesn’t picture you with a fixer-upper. Maybe she’d like to see you in something a little more…updated? When you said you had land, I was envisioning the structures and whatnot and didn’t consider the actual property or the care this much land would involve. Who’s going to mow this place?”
He caught her staring at the tall grass and dilapidated gates. Odd though she seemed more curious than repulsed by the place. “That’s what riding lawnmowers are for and I could hire out some of the work. I plan to leave a good amount of land in its natural state, and after I add a few outbuildings and cordon off other sections, it won’t look as big as it does now.” The pinched brows and tilt of her head told him she was trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. He couldn’t resist adding to her confusion. “In fact, if I start feeling cramped, I’ll have to put an offer on the ten acres next to me.” He eyed her, tossed in another tale. “And if that’s not enough, there’s always the acreage on the other side. Maybe even what’s behind me…” Pause and then a curious, “What do you think about that?” He’d been joking, but her response made him admit this woman was more than a beautiful sophisticate in pearls and designer clothes.
“I think you should work on the “possibilities” right here before you go looking somewhere else. The rewards will be so much greater, don’t you think?”
Sam pulled up to the house, thrust the truck in park and turned it off. “Hey, I was only joking to get a reaction. I’m committed to this place.” He pointed to the farmhouse. “Rotten boards, broken fences, chipping paint…all of it.”
“Okay, then.” She unbuckled her seatbelt, opened the truck door. “Let’s go check out this house. I love ‘before and after’ places.”
“You do?” He’d never met a woman who actually “loved” a dump before it was gutted and converted into a luxury dwelling. Celeste only wanted to touch “new” structures, nothing that had been around longer than ten years, and not surrounded by unmanicured lawns, certainly not thigh-high fields. And, of course, it had to be close to culture and fine dining and it absolutely must be “eye catching”. But Hope didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she appeared fascinated by the natural setting and untamed area. And the run-down farmhouse? She made it sound more like a welcome challenge that would produce positive results, not all tied to money.
Was this the real Hope Newland? Maybe the absence of pearls and designer attire made her more approachable and down-to-earth? Or was it a ride away from her computer and notebook that helped her relax? Who knew, but Sam liked this version and wouldn’t mind seeing more of her. He grabbed the bag of food and followed her to the front door, fit the key in the lock, and eased the squeaky door open. “After you.”
Sam hadn’t pictured any woman in this house other than his mother and eventually, his sister. But a woman who wasn’t related to him? Not for a long time…but this one didn’t seem out of place or uncomfortable. The weird thing was, she kind of fit here, like if he relaxed his brain and let his imagination take over, he could picture her in the kitchen or sitting by the fireplace…lying next to him in bed. No, no, no! He blocked that thought from his brain and made his way to the kitchen and the small foldable table. “This is definitely a work in progress.” He set the bag from Sal’s Market on the table, flipped on an overhead light.
She glanced around the kitchen, spied the plans spread out on the table next to the grocery bag. “May I have a look?”
“Sure.” Nobody but Sam and Pete had seen the plans, but Hope actually seemed interested, so, why not?
She studied the section that would be his office, pointed to a long, straight wall. “Are you thinking about built-in bookshelves? Maybe incorporate a standing desk?” Humor filtered through her words. “You know, so you can stay in shape while you work.”
“I plan to get enough exercise outside. I don’t think I need a standing desk, but maybe I’ll consider that for the future.” He laughed. “In about thirty or forty years.”
“Okay then…” She pointed to another area. “I really like what you’re going to do with the living room. Open, but cozy. That’s hard to do, but with the fireplace in there and depending on how you set the furniture? Oh yes, it could all work.”
Sam had not expected this level of interest, but she really did seem to want to know. Maybe she could offer a few suggestions as well. “This isn’t boring you?”
She glanced up, brows pinched together. “Boring me? I find it fascinating. The only plans I ever get to see are pretty much all the same. If we buy a place, we convert it and make it match the others. If we build a hotel, again, it’s got to fit the branding.” Her voice softened. “But to build something and make it original? An extension of who you are? That’s magic.”
Magic? That word seemed to be floating around quite a bit these days. “So, you don’t think I’m crazy for buying a place that’s falling apart?” His parents thought he was, and there’d been a few other people in town who’d expressed confusion and even concern that the city boy he’d become didn’t comprehend the undertaking.
“Crazy? No, I think you’ve found a location you love and you’re going to create a home. You don’t have to subscribe to the modern-day concepts that place a dining room in a certain spot and add a theater room and a butler pantry. You can do whatever you want to make it yours. I love that idea and it sounds like Pete Finnegan understands what you’re trying to achieve.”
“Yeah, you can call us two guys who’ve had similar experiences.” A shrug, and then he shared more than he intended. “Seems Pete created a whole other life in California, one that included a fiancée and too much money and then one day he found himself back in Magdalena. No money, no fiancée, no reputation, and a divide with his family that was wider than the Hudson River. In that way we’re the same, though I have the capital to do what I want and Pete didn’t…at least not in the beginning.” He homed in on the plans as he delivered the next truth. “Pete regained his father’s trust, found the right woman, but not without a lot of grief and too much drama. Now, he’s got a wife, one child and another on the way. He’s happy and you’d never know he used to drive cars that cost more than his house and paid musicians to give private concerts for him and his entourage.”
“He sounds like an interesting man.”
“Pete’s interesting all right, and he’s a straight shooter. No sugar coating, no coming in sideways, nothing but observations that you may or may not want to hear. He’s done that with me a time or two.”
“I bet you didn’t like that.”
Sam slid his gaze to hers, caught the smile she tried to hide. “No, I did not.”
With that, they turned back to the plans and he showed her the bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs. They spent the next hour walking through the various rooms, talking about hardware for the cabinets and drawers, color schemes, paint, even how to coordinate the flooring. Hope had an eye for color and style, one that was inviting and casual, and fit his personality. How could she know he preferred leather over fabric, and navy was his favorite color? When he asked about the color, she looked at him like everyone knew that answer and laughed.
“Your scrubs are navy, most of your T-shirts are navy, and the real tell? Your truck is navy.”
“Okay, you got me. Navy is my favorite color.” The woman was observant, he’d give her that. Celeste had only observed what interested her, like the diamond pendant dangling from her friend’s neck and the trip to Iceland. I want that , she’d whispered in his ear. And a matching bracelet and earrings. I’ll model them for you…naked…in Iceland… Sam cleared his throat, pushed his ex-wife’s greedy manipulation from his brain. “Do you think I should consider a dark stain for the stairway?” He placed his hand on the railing, felt it wobble. “Or would you go with something lighter?”
“Definitely dark.”
Sam blew out a sigh, confessed, “I’ll never remember all of your recommendations.”
“I’ll make some notes for you and I’ll give you a few choices so you can select the one that works best.” She hesitated a second before asking, “Can we head back to the kitchen because that’s probably my favorite room. I’d like to see what you plan to do with that in terms of materials for the backsplash, countertop, type of faucet. And what about the lighting? Have you thought about that? You’re going to have a lot of natural light so you want to consider what to add, and I like the idea of a fan. Have you ever seen the huge fans that turn real slow but move a ton of air?”
“I don’t think so.” Sam rubbed his jaw, impressed with her recommendations. “Can you write these ideas down, too? I want Pete to incorporate them into the project. I think he’ll really like them.” He decided to admit the truth. “I know I do.” Yeah, he liked the ideas a lot, and if he were being honest with himself, he’d have to admit he liked the woman behind the ideas a lot, too. He had to shut down those thoughts because they had no place in his life, and he was certain, no place in hers.
As they headed down the stairs and into the kitchen where the plans rested on the folding table, he attempted to lighten the mood. “I’m pretty simple and I was going for a minimalist look and function. Pete made me see there are advantages to something that’s a little more high-end.” Sam shrugged, pointed to a spot by the kitchen windows. “There’s a guy in town who owns a furniture company and he can outfit me with the furniture I need: a table, bed, chairs, a desk. I haven’t really given that much thought, because I’m more interested in the structure. Right now all I really care about is a toilet and shower. The bed is optional.” His gaze settled on the top of her head. He cleared his throat, added, “Mostly optional.”
She leaned closer to the plans, oblivious to his comments, and pointed to a section on the side of the kitchen. “He’s going to build you a mud room? That’s a great idea.”
Sam moved to stand beside her, close enough to inhale her citrus scent. “Pete said it doesn’t make sense to come in from the barn or the fields and track a mess into the kitchen. He’s got a point there. That falls under the functional category.”
“I’m glad you see that. Nobody would want to be cleaning up mud and who knows what from the floor.” She shook her head, let out a laugh. “That would be such a pain.”
“Especially since I would be the one doing the cleanup.”
“Would you be doing the cooking as well?” Her lips twitched when she asked, “Or will your mother be stopping by to provide meals? Maybe Mimi will offer?”
“Now there’s an idea. Maybe I can hang a sign-up sheet and see who volunteers. Bet I could get a few meals out of that.”
She slid him a glance and their gazes locked. “I’ll bet you could, and I’ll bet the volunteers would extend far beyond your mother and Mimi.”
There was no denying the sizzle between them. “You think so?”
The eye roll and the smile gave him his answer before she spoke. “You know so.”
That comment made him laugh and tease her. “Would you like to sign up for a meal? I know you’re a good cook and a great baker.”
“I could send you a care package.”
“Ah, a care package. I haven’t received one of those since vet school. I still remember the chocolate chip cookies and bags of cough drops because my mother said you could never have enough cough drops. And I think she added toothpaste.” He raised a brow, added, “My mother is very maternal and concerned. After what they paid in braces, they were not going to see these teeth ruined.”
When Hope laughed, her whole face lit up. He liked that she gave a full-on laugh, not the calculated sound that many women used to appear as if they were amused. Celeste and her friends were like that. They could never quite let themselves one hundred percent relax and enjoy a situation. But it seemed like Hope had finally found a way to be comfortable around him, less reserved. Maybe more her real self? “If you decide to send me a care package, you can skip the toothpaste, but if you have any extra dental floss? I’ll take that since I always run out.”
She smiled, her hazel eyes bright. “Noted.”
They turned back to the plans and talked about the lighting, the windows, the countertops, even the depth of the sink. Another hour had passed and they hadn’t even made it outside yet. “How about a lunch break? I’m getting hungry and Sal’s makes great subs.”
“Sure.” She opened the bag, peeked inside. “What kind of subs?”
“Ham and turkey with provolone, tomato, peppers, spinach, Italian seasonings and olive oil. It’s really good.” He pulled out the subs, set them next to the plans. “Do you eat chips?” He removed more food from the bag, added, “And we have chocolate chunk cookies.”
“I’ll have a few chips, and I won’t say no to a chocolate chunk cookie.” She rolled up the plans and set them on the edge of the table. “These are too important to stain with olive oil and chocolate chunk cookie crumbs. What would the builder say?”
“Pete would grouse about it and then he’d start nosing around, asking what I was doing, and with whom… Then he’d want to know about you…”
“And you could tell him I’m the one who suggested navy and dark stain for the railing.”
As they ate their subs and shared a bag of chips—Hope might have said she only wanted a few chips but she’d eaten most of them—they talked about color schemes, textures, fabrics, and wood stains. He’d insisted the choices had to simplify not complicate his life. No extra or special care. Hope made him see that choices could still be about function and practicality while bringing out what he liked and what he could relate to in a way that “spoke to him”.
Okay, usually when someone said “pick something that speaks to you” that required a lot of work and introspection, but Hope encouraged him to select what felt right and not to overthink it. That was an interesting comment from a woman who spent so much time considering her hairstyle and shoe choice, though she didn’t seem like that woman today. The sweatshirt, jeans and boots, and the braid minus jewelry and minimal makeup made her more natural. Too damned attractive. He pushed aside thoughts of her attractiveness and focused on her comments regarding function and practicality.
“I like leather, I’m not much into plaid, and as you already know, navy’s my favorite color.”
She nodded, picked up another chip. “Could you see adding a touch of navy in the kitchen? Maybe with a cream, or some sort of pattern?”
“Maybe. I’d have to see it.” He shot her a glance, asked the question he hoped he wouldn’t regret. “If you’re still around, do you think you could help me out on some of those choices? Pete said I can start picking colors, hardware, tile, and that sort of thing, but I don’t have the eye or the talent to do it. Sure, he can set me up with somebody, but… if you’re around, I wouldn’t mind some guidance.” He shrugged, reached for his water. “What do I know about blending style along with old and new and matching it all up?”
“I’d love to—” the faintest pink crept to her cheeks “—as long as I’m still here.”
“Yeah, right. Any idea how long you plan to stay? Is it a firm thirty days or are you going to see how it goes and add on accordingly?” He did not want to acknowledge how much he hoped she’d choose the latter, and when she did, he breathed a long sigh. Of relief? Happiness? Who knew?
“There’s a lot to consider and I’ve realized thirty days isn’t long enough to formulate an opinion.” She hesitated a second before continuing. “I think the best course of action is to be open and adjust accordingly.”
“I agree.” Later, he would realize that those few words were about a lot more than extending her stay in Magdalena. They were about him and Hope, and where they were headed.