Chapter 37
Fable
“They’re beautiful, Fable,” Dad says, kneeling in front of the orange, pink, and yellow tulips to take a few close-up pictures.
Mom loops her arm through mine. “I wish Gramps could see them.”
“Me too.” I sigh.
When Dad turns to stand, though, his eyes glassy and his lips pressed together, I realize I got the next best thing. He hugs me close, a soft “Thank you” whispered into my ear. “Can you get a picture of us?” he asks, handing his phone to Mom.
She waits for us to get into position, both sitting right in front of the tulips, Dad’s arm around my shoulders. It reminds me so much of my photos with Gramps that I promise myself I’m going to frame this one too.
“I’m already weepy and I haven’t even been inside yet,” Dad says as we walk toward the porch.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “We don’t have to go in,” I offer. Now that we’re here, do I even want him to see everything? I tidied up the best I could, but with the tools and renovation supplies tucked into the corners, it’s still messy.
Something flashes behind his eyes. “Are you kidding? Of course we’re going in. I want to see all the work you’ve been doing.”
Holding my breath, I lead the way.
The last time the A-frame was this full was Gramps’s eightieth birthday.
He hosted a party, inviting everyone he could think of—even a man he’d met at the market that morning.
We had streamers, balloons, a hand-cut banner Millie and I had made that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRAMPS, and the biggest cake I’d ever seen from Wildwood Bakery.
I remember listening to everyone sing “Happy Birthday,” our voices echoing beautifully off the wood plank walls, while Gramps sat at the center of it, beaming with joy and tears in his eyes.
Today, I feel like he’s here, among the chorus of people who have shown up for me. There aren’t any streamers or banners, and we’ve replaced “Happy Birthday” with a Disney Hits playlist, but the voices and laughter filling these walls would make Gramps happy.
Dad and Finn are working on the siding, replacing pieces that are weatherworn and crumbly.
Finn is pretty clueless about the process, but he makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm.
He’s wearing the hell out of those safety goggles as he runs the saw, and Millie seems to be a huge fan of the tool belt he brought.
Tessa is staining the new railing and steps from the top down. A jumpsuit she borrowed from Dad sits baggy over her frame, and a bandanna is tied around her head Rosie the Riveter style to keep her bangs out of her face.
Millie and Mom worked together to get the washer and dryer out of the laundry room, and now they’re deep cleaning it before painting the walls. Dad had leftover paint in his workshop, and he thinks it’ll be enough for a fresh coat.
Avery and Eloise are trying their best to assist, but their attention spans have them bouncing between tasks.
For now, the front and back doors are propped open for air flow, so they’re taking laps through the house, giggling and singing the whole way.
Occasionally they stop to check on Knocks, who’s been left in the library, sleeping in Gramps’s chair, for his own sanity and safety.
My heart feels full enough to burst as I watch the people who showed up for me. Even when I kept them at arm’s length for months, they were right there, ready to jump into action when I asked.
The only problem is, I’m missing one person—a key ingredient to this cabin. He’s become such an irreplaceable part of my life that it doesn’t feel complete without him.
I could fill an entire photo album with the bits and pieces of himself he has left behind.
His flannel is still here, and I wear it around like a robe.
The sci-fi book he started is on my nightstand with a receipt from the taco truck tucked inside as a bookmark.
Three socks, gray sweatpants, and a pair of scrubs—the sexy green ones.
An extra container of dark chocolate hazelnut spread he tucked in the back of the cabinet, for emergencies scrawled on the lid.
In the bathroom, his toothbrush and razor sit beside mine.
In the library, that hideously adorable puppies-in-a-trench-coat lamp is perched on a shelf.
Theo’s everywhere, and yet I find myself wishing there were even more signs of him.
There has always been an element of mystery about romantic love for me.
I can see it in the people around me—in the way Mom and Dad have cherished each other for years, in the way Mia and Bree seem to always be on the same wavelength, and in the way Millie and Finn celebrate life together, sharing secret smiles and heated glances.
But feeling it is an entirely different sensation. I don’t know the exact moment when the switch flipped from platonic love to romantic love. Maybe it was a gradual shift, little moments pushing me into new territory over time—so slowly I didn’t feel the difference at first.
Now, though, I’m realizing the difference.
This love is all-consuming. It’s gut-wrenching and soothing.
It’s wild and soft in the same moment. It’s a visceral need to be closer to him, a yearning to hear every detail of his day.
It’s safety in being myself. The security of knowing I can take a leap because someone will be there to catch me if I falter.
It’s peace. Comfort. Wholehearted acceptance.
And I miss it. I miss him. So much.
If the last few days have taught me anything, it’s that I was a complete idiot. I don’t know a lot about what the future holds, but I know one thing for sure: I want Theo there with me.
Tessa’s voice startles me out of my thoughts. “This sure is looking like a home,” she says, wiping her forehead with her sleeve.
She’s right. For the longest time, this was Gramps’s home that I was staying in for a bit. I was an interloper, too unsettled to take up much space.
But somewhere along the way, that changed. Inside these walls, I’ve found myself. Taken risks. Opened my heart. Learned to believe in myself. Fallen in love.
And I’m wishing I could stay. In Fern River. In this cabin. Instead of calling it Gramps’s A-frame, I’d really love to call it home.
The urge to run from the other day is long gone, and I’m so thankful I didn’t fully give in to it.
Even if I can’t open that exact bookshop in that exact location, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a life for me here.
The possibilities are actually endless, because Gramps saw his vision in a hundred different locations.
All I need to do is adopt his level of creativity.
And I have a feeling he’d be proud of me no matter where I made that dream come true.
Dad’s soft gaze meets mine, the creases beside his eyes deepening with a smile. Something unspoken dances between us, and then he winks. “You’re taking up the whole attic at our house. ’Bout time we bring all that stuff over so I can make space for my new yoga room.”
My throat tightens at his words. I’m starting to wonder if everyone knows what I want way before I do.
From the laundry room, Mom shouts, “How about you actually come to a class with me before you build out a whole room?”
Over the sound of everyone’s laughter, my phone starts ringing. When I slide it out of the back pocket of my overalls, I nearly drop it.
Callum Properties blinks across the screen.
“Shit,” I whisper, darting out the front door. I jog all the way to Baby Blue, somehow manage to open the door on the first try, and duck inside, catching the call just in time with a croaked, “Hello?”
“Ms. Fable Oaks?” asks a female voice.
“Hi. That’s me.” I flex my free hand nervously.
“Good afternoon. This is Jessie with Callum Properties. I was calling about your interest in the rental space in Fern River, Washington. We’ve had some changes to that property that we wanted to reach out about.”
My stomach is making its way up my throat. “Okay.”
“Our previous potential tenant has fallen through, and we wanted to see if you were still interested.”
For a heartbeat, I wonder if this is real. Am I actually sleeping and having a fabulous dream about winning against a Smoothie Bro? “Yes . . . Yes, I-I am,” I stutter out.
There’s a smile in her voice as she says, “That’s great. Before we take it any further, I want to tell you that the main reason our previous tenant fell through was due to the work needed in the building, so we’d love for you to visit the property as soon as possible.”
I nod. “Yes. Absolutely.”
“Once you see it, we can have a bigger discussion, but in general, we’re willing to build a contract around the possibility of you doing some of the work that needs to be done in place of cheaper rent on the space.
” Hope inflates my chest. “Unfortunately, my colleague is out this week, and my schedule is pretty booked. So, if you’re willing to view the space by yourself, I can give you the code for the back door.
We’d love for you to look at it and let us know if you’d like to move forward with figuring out the next steps. How does that sound?”
I’m barely breathing. This is it—the moment to turn back or keep going. There are a million obstacles still to come. This is only the space. I haven’t begun to tackle a small business loan or permits or any of the financial details.
But in a heartbeat, I know the answer.
I bring that small photo on the fridge to the front of my mind. Gramps’s wide smile, that hopeful light in his eyes. His assured voice as he said, This is the one.
And I leap.