Chapter 19 #3
He took them carefully, flipping through the ledger pages. “Her handwriting’s steady till here,” he said, pointing near the end. “Then it shakes. She must’ve written this close to the end. After she got sick.”
“She names Harold.” My voice was small.
He grunted. “Your uncle does have a…” He paused, searching for the right word, “colorful history.”
“Apparently, he was also her saboteur. Or at least she thought he was.” I rubbed my palms on my jeans. “She wrote Arnie too. Maybe she realized he was an errand boy or more.”
Austin scanned farther, lips pressed together. “She was documenting thefts, false invoices. It’s not paranoia—it’s evidence.”
The word evidence sounded so final.
“What do we do with it?” I asked.
“Two things.” He closed the notebook and tucked it inside his jacket. “One, we call Browne in the morning and tell him exactly what you found. Two, we start rebuilding this barn like it’s meant to last another hundred years. You make it the clinic you want. I’ll make sure no one interferes.”
He steadied me.
“You think Penny wanted us to find this?” I said absent-mindedly, taking more papers out of the box.
“I think she left you the truth because she trusted you’d do something with it.”
He might have been right, but I didn’t want to think about it right now. “We should take this in the house and go through it later. I need to get back to the clinic downstairs.”
We climbed down together, Austin with the box and me with the broom. On the ground, Inspector batted the runaway penny in lazy circles until it vanished under a feed bin. I fished it out. “A Chinese coin?” I wondered aloud.
“At one of the charity events I met Penny at,” Austin grinned, “she was talking about her trip to China when she was in her twenties. She was interesting.” He mused.
Austin leaned against the stall rail, notebook still in hand. “You realize what this means, right? Harold’s not just lurking—he’s probably been angling for this place since the will was read.”
“Then he’ll be disappointed,” I said. “Because we’re not giving him anything.”
He smiled, faint but proud. “We?”
I nodded and flipped my rag at him.
The more we worked, the less the barn felt like a dusty storage unit. Mid-day light poured through the upper windows, catching on the newly uncovered counters and old shipping wrap.
I crossed to the metal sign leaning against the wall and brushed off another layer of dust. “This is going to be epic,” I said through giggles of excitement.
Austin pushed off the rail. “What’s the plan, Doc?”
“First we clear everything that isn’t alive or nailed down. Then we scrub. Then we paint.”
“Paint I can handle.” He rolled up his sleeves automatically. “But I’m claiming immunity from floral colors.”
“I make no promises,” I said, handing him a broom.
We worked until the last bit of daylight gleamed through the mountains.
The rhythm of it steadied me—the scrape of wood, the thud of old boxes hitting the wagon bed, the soft shuffle of hay underfoot.
Every now and then, Austin would toss something he found into my area, and I would sweep my dirt into his. It was a game of wills. He won.
By the time we stopped, the two aisles on either side of the barn were completely open for the first time in years. We made some real progress.
Austin leaned on the broom handle, breathing hard. “You realize you just talked me into manual labor on my day off.”
“Wait, you get days off?”
“Fair point.”
I smiled, wiping my hands. “Thank you for helping me.”
He studied me for a long second, then said softly, “I like seeing you like this. It suits you.” He started to lean forward, resting his hand on my cheek.
His eyes darted between my mouth and my eyes, a silent question: Is it okay?
My mind stuttered as if it couldn’t believe he was asking.
“This is happening,” my heart smiled, the rush fluttering through me.
Austin’s eyes dropped back down to my mouth as he leaned ever so close, his breath brushing my lips.
Krr-zzzt, the radio on his belt crackled, and Austin jerked upright—Levi’s voice, distant and clipped. “North pasture fence looks fine. No sign of company.”
Austin clicked it off and looked back at me, the moment lost and the spell broken. “Mason and Levi are making extra rounds. Just precaution.”
“Because of Harold?”
“Because of everything,” he said. “But we’re ahead of it now.”
I nodded, exhaustion settling in, but beneath it a pulse of pride. The barn was raw, half-finished, and full of wonder. Austin sighed, a sound of restraint and frustration. He shook his head, then rested his forehead against mine.
“Come on, let’s head in.” Austin smiled, then kissed my forehead and breathed deep.
I nodded as he took my hand in his.
As the last light faded, I stood at the doorway and looked out across the field. The world felt a little bigger, and I was achieving my dream. Austin came to stand beside me, shoulder brushing mine.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “We start building it for real.”
“Tomorrow,” he agreed. “And Milly—whatever Penny was fighting for, she’d be proud you’re still in the ring.”
“Some things are worth fighting for,” I said.
Austin didn’t argue. He just nodded once, a soldier standing his ground.