Chapter 13 #2
Jason sketched while she talked, his pencil moving in quick, confident strokes.
A queen bed under the window facing the trees.
A small table with two chairs near the kitchenette, positioned to catch the morning light.
Hooks by the door for coats and bags. A bench just inside the threshold for shoes.
Colby watched her hands move as she spoke, her fingers shaping the air as she described how people would enter, where they'd put their bags, what they'd reach for first when they walked through the door.
There was something almost reverent in the way she talked about it, like she was describing a church instead of a cabin.
"And storage," she said, leaning forward slightly.
"Not just a sad little rack with three wire hangers and a shelf you can't reach.
A real closet people can actually use. A place to hang things that aren't just jackets.
A shelf where they won't forget their stuff when they leave.
A cubby to store their suitcase so it's not sitting in the middle of the floor, making everything feel cramped. "
"You're talking like you've done this before," Jason said, glancing up from his notebook with a dry smile.
She huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. "I've watched a lot of people trip over their luggage. You learn things."
Kara closed her folder with a decisive snap, tucking it under her arm.
"From a zoning standpoint, you're completely fine.
Send me Jason's plans when you’ve settled on materials, and I'll add them to your file.
County will want to do an inspection before you pour concrete, but that's standard.
I'll keep fielding calls from developers in the meantime and telling them they're out of luck. "
"Thank you," Sabrina said, and the words carried more weight than they should have. "For everything. You didn't have to fight as hard as you have."
Kara touched her arm briefly, a gesture that was almost maternal despite the businesslike blazer. "You're not doing this alone. None of us are going to let you think you are."
When Kara's sedan pulled away down the gravel drive, it was just the three of them left standing on the rise with the wide, quiet field spreading out around them like a held breath.
Jason stood slowly, dusting dried grass off his knees, and held out the notebook. "We can tweak this as much as you need, but it's a start. Something to build from."
Sabrina studied the rough rectangle with its little symbols and annotations, her eyes tracing the lines as if memorizing them. "That's my cabin," she said quietly. "Right there on the page."
"Yep," Jason said. "We'll double-check everything against code, pull the right permits, and order lumber once you approve the specs. If the paperwork gods are feeling generous, we can start the foundation next week."
Her head snapped up, her eyes going wide. "That soon?"
He shrugged, the motion easy and unhurried. "It's a simple build. Clean design, no weird angles, nothing that requires an engineering degree. You're not putting in a marble ballroom or a rooftop infinity pool."
Her eyes went bright, glittering in the afternoon light. "I wouldn't know what to do with a marble ballroom."
"Me neither," Jason said. "But I know exactly what to do with this.
" He tapped the sketch with one calloused finger.
"I'll handle the structural math and make sure nothing falls down.
Colby'll handle grunt labor and obsess over whether things are level.
You handle all the ways people need to feel held when they walk in that door.
That's the part that matters, and that's the part I can't teach. "
Sabrina's fingers curled around the edges of the notebook, holding it like something precious. "Deal."
The first day of actual work, Colby stood on the marked-off rectangle at seven in the morning and felt like a kid who'd just been handed the keys to something bigger than he knew how to hold.
The sun was still climbing, the air cool enough that his breath made small clouds when he exhaled.
He drove a stake into the ground at one corner, the mallet connecting with a satisfying thunk, and then stretched orange twine to the next marker.
The lines seemed fragile against the vastness of the land around them, but they were real. They were a start.
Sabrina followed the boundary with her eyes, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold something in. "It looks small."
"That's because there's no walls yet," he said, driving the second stake into place. "Wait until we get framing up. It'll feel like a real space instead of just a rectangle in the grass."
Jason dropped a stack of treated lumber near the far edge, the boards landing with a heavy thud that seemed to settle into the earth. "We're building a retreat, not a mansion. Small is good. Small is intentional. Small is what you actually want."
They set forms for the pier blocks, checked measurements three times until Jason declared them accurate enough to satisfy even Colby's perfectionism, and started mixing concrete in batches. The work was methodical and physical, the kind that left your muscles burning and your mind quiet.
Sabrina didn't stand back and watch. She rolled her sleeves up past her elbows, grabbed a shovel, and fell into the rhythm without complaint.
When the wheelbarrow needed pushing, she pushed it.
When forms needed bracing, she held them steady.
Her arms shook sometimes, and her face went red with effort, but she didn't stop.
"You don't have to do the heavy stuff," Colby said at one point, pausing to wipe sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. "Nobody's keeping score."
She shot him a look over the rim of the wheelbarrow, one eyebrow raised in a way that made his stomach flip. "Do I look like I came out here to supervise from a lawn chair?"
"You'd make a very cute supervisor," he said. "Clipboard and everything. Little hard hat."
"I'd rather be useful," she said, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth that she couldn't quite hide.
Jason muttered something under his breath about lovebirds that Colby chose not to acknowledge, and focused instead on getting the first footing exactly level.
By midday, sweat ran down Colby's spine in steady streams, and dust clung to his forearms in a gritty layer.
His shoulders ached in the good way, the kind that meant he'd actually accomplished something.
He wiped his forehead with the heel of his palm and caught Sabrina watching him from across the work site.
"What?" he asked.
"You look very pleased with yourself," she said.
"I like it when things are square," he said. "And level. And measured correctly. It's a character flaw."
She laughed, the sound bright and unexpected, cutting through his fatigue like a second wind he hadn't known he needed.
"Here," he said, nodding toward the sawhorses they'd set up near the lumber pile. "Come learn to cut a board."
Her eyes went wide, a flash of something between excitement and alarm. "With a real saw?"
"With a very real saw," he said. "Under strict supervision. I promise I won't let you hurt yourself."
Jason shook his head without looking up from the footing he was checking. "If she comes back missing fingers, I'm telling Diaz it was your idea."
Sabrina flexed her hands in front of her face, studying them like she was taking inventory. "I'd like to keep all my fingers, please. I'm rather attached to them."
"You will," Colby said. He set a two-by-four across the horses, measured a mark with the tape, and drew a clean line across the wood with his pencil.
"First lesson. Measure twice, cut once. If you ever hear me say 'eh, close enough,' take the saw away from me and call a doctor because I've clearly had a stroke. "
She nodded solemnly, her expression shifting into something focused and serious. "Got it."
He showed her how to brace her feet, how to keep the power cord out of the way where it wouldn't tangle or catch, how to let the blade do the work instead of forcing it through. He kept his hands clear but stayed close enough to grab the tool if anything went wrong.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No," she said honestly, her grip tightening on the handle. "Do it anyway."
He pressed the trigger for her, letting the blade spin up to speed, then stepped back and let her take over.
The saw whined as it bit into wood, the sound sharp and mechanical against the quiet of the field.
Her arms shook a little with the effort of controlling it, but she stayed on the line, her eyes focused, her jaw set.
When the cut dropped clean at the end, the waste piece falling away to land in the grass, she lifted the saw with wide eyes and released the trigger.
"I did that," she said, her voice carrying a note of wonder that made something in his chest ache.
"You did," he said. "See? Terrifying power at your fingertips. Use it wisely."
Jason glanced over from where he was mixing another batch of concrete. "If we come back next week and all the cabinet work at the café has been mysteriously rebuilt, I'll know exactly who to blame."
Sabrina held up the cut board like a trophy, her grin stretching across her whole face. "I just contributed to my own cabin. With my own hands."
Pride flared warm in Colby's chest, spreading outward until it reached his fingertips. "You're going to be hell in a hardware store from now on. I can already see it."
She laughed again, the sound even brighter than before. "I already want to label everything. Sort it by size. Maybe color-code the screws."