CHAPTER NINETEEN
P IPER
I never thought one tiny key could change my life.
But right now, the key to the barn padlock is more than just burning a hole in my pocket. It’s overtaking my mind.
I can’t say I mind, either. Every minute my mom remains in a coma ratchets my anxiety up a bit higher, and I just wonder when I’ll reach the point where I finally crumble.
The doctors are confident she’ll wake up, but seeing her day in and day out in the same bed, unresponsive, unchanging…
it does something to my hard-won optimism.
But Barny is here to fix it.
Or rather, I’m here to fix Barny.
The first sign that I might have jumped off the deep end was when I coined a nickname for my barn. Yes, it’s mine. And its name is Barny. It’s not terribly creative, but he likes it. So we’re sticking with it.
Is it insane? Yes. Is it what I'm called to do? Also yes.
The barn key feels weighty in my pocket as I make my final preparations at Cloud Nine on Friday morning.
I've ensured the shop is covered with Jerrica handling the front counter for the entire day, all bulk orders are ready, and the Bayshore Best special is stocked and ready to go. This frees me up to spend every spare second at the barn, armed with industrial-strength cleaning supplies and pure determination. Now that Kru and I have signed a basic rental agreement, with a heavily discounted rent due to the renovations I plan to do on the building, I’m ready to rumble.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Jerrica asks, eyeing the collection of cleaning supplies I've amassed in the back room. "That's a lot of bleach for one person."
"I've got this," I assure her. "Besides, you're already winning Employee of the Year by taking on more hours for me."
“I’m your only employee,” she reminds me.
“And the best damn one there is!” I load up my caddy of cleaning supplies, adding another roll of paper towels on top.
“If anyone asks for me, just tell them I’m in a meeting.
And if any of my brothers show up, tell them I’m gone.
Say nothing about the barn to any of my relatives.
We don’t speak of the barn to blood relatives.
And if anyone has a genuine emergency, come get me. ”
“O…kay.” She laughs, but I can see the curiosity in her eyes. She knows I’m heading out to the barn on the property, but not why. The fewer people who know about my barn project before my brothers, the better.
I slip out the back door, hurrying around the building and off to the barn.
It stands at the far end of the parking lot, looking both intimidating and inspiring in the afternoon light.
It’s a building I’ve basically ignored for the past five years—and now, I can’t see anything but this barn.
I glance around to make sure none of my brothers are magically materializing to question my activities.
Who knows—they might receive an emergency notification as soon as I put the key into the padlock for the first time: PIPER HAS MADE A DECISION WITHOUT CONSULTING HER brOTHERS!
THE NEAREST KEEGAN MUST REPORT FOR IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION!
The key Kru gave me turns smoothly in the padlock, and better yet, none of my brothers pop out from behind the bushes. I slide the heavy barn door open just enough to slip inside with my supplies, then close it behind me.
Even though it’s almost one o’clock, the interior of the barn is dim thanks to the grimed-over windows.
I flip on the industrial work light I purchased and dropped off yesterday, casting the cavernous space in a harsh glow that highlights every cobweb, dust bunny, and questionable stain.
It's overwhelming if I look at it all at once, so I focus on one section at a time.
"Windows first," I mutter to myself, setting up my supplies. "Let some actual light into this place."
The first window takes me nearly twenty minutes, inside and out, to clean properly.
Years of grime have created a film that requires serious elbow grease to remove.
But the satisfaction when I finally finish and step back to see sunlight streaming through the clear glass is worth every aching muscle.
It’s just one window, but it feels like a portal to the future.
"One down, eleven to go.”
Three windows later, I take a break to check my phone. There's a notification from the Bayshore Best page, and I open it eagerly to check the updated standings.
My strawberry s'mores torte is holding strong in second. Kru's lobster tail with asparagus risotto has moved up to third. And The Golden Pear still has first place with their fancy schmancy croissant.
I frown at the screen, my competitive spirit flaring.
The Golden Pear has been around for a few years longer than I have, and one of their owners is incredibly well connected in town.
I’m sure that’s helping them retain that number one spot.
But aside from begging complete strangers to vote for me daily, which I’m not afraid to do, maybe I need to rethink my strategy.
Add something unexpected to my s'mores torte to give it that extra edge.
"Focus on that later, Piper," I scold myself, tucking the phone away. "One project at a time."
I return to the windows with renewed vigor, determined to finish at least half of them today.
The physical labor is therapeutic—each swipe of the cloth revealing more of the barn's potential.
With clean windows, I can better see the sturdy wooden beams overhead, the surprisingly intact plank flooring, and the way the afternoon light creates a warm-honey glow throughout the space.
Just when I’m about to start on the next window, I hear the barn door slide open. Thanks to my perch in the loft, I can’t see who it is.
"Making progress, I see.” The deep voice sends shivers down my spine.
I climb on my hands and knees to the edge of the loft, peering down. Kru stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an amused smile. He's wearing a gray henley, the sleeves rolled up to expose those forearms that immediately make me remember when he pinned my apron to the cutting board.
"I'm on a mission," I explain, gesturing to the half-cleaned windows. "Operation Let There Be Light."
He chuckles, moving closer to inspect my work. "It’s crazy how much a clean window can change a place.”
I come to my feet and carefully descend the stairs. “You taking a break?”
“Lunch service calmed down so I figured I’d see how you were doing. You want any help?”
I hesitate, torn between my stubborn independence and the practical reality that this job would go much faster with an extra set of hands.
"You don't have a restaurant to run?" I ask instead of answering directly.
"Brady's handling things for the next hour." He picks up a clean cloth from my supply pile. "So, which window am I tackling?"
I point to one at the base of the loft stairs. "That one's next on my list."
"On it." He rolls up his sleeves another notch and gets to work. I try to bite back the smile that threatens to take over my face as I go back up to the loft and my half-clean window.
This is nice. Really nice.
We clean in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds our scrubbing and the occasional satisfied sigh when a particularly stubborn spot finally gives way.
"So," Kru says eventually, "you checked the Bayshore Best standings today?"
I glance down from my perch, surprised. "How did you know?"
"Just assuming you check as compulsively as I do. Congrats on holding on to second place."
"For now," I sigh. "That Golden Pear dish is killing it."
"It's the blue cheese," Kru says thoughtfully. "The surprise savory element with the sweet apple. People go crazy for that contrast."
"I know." I attack a particularly dirty spot on my window. "It makes me want to think outside the box and beat them.”
"Your s'mores torte is incredible as is."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but it won’t make me forget that you're still trying to beat me," I remind him.
He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "All's fair in love and Bayshore Best.”
The casual mention of love makes my stomach do a little flip that I resolutely ignore.
After a moment, Kru adds, “I toyed around with the marshmallow delivery you dropped off the other day. They were all amazing but I think the nutmeg one was next-level. I’m officially adding your nutmeg-infused marshmallow to the lobster dish."
I gasp. “That sounds wonderful. Now I need to try it again.”
“Anytime, Maven. You’re gonna love it,” Kru says. “Though I’m nervous your brothers will come after me if I beat you in the competition. Or if they find out I’m your landlord twice over.”
I wince, unable to entirely dismiss the possibility. "They'll come around," I say, though I'm not convinced myself. "Probably."
"After they break my kneecaps, maybe," he mutters.
"They wouldn't—" I start, then reconsider. "Okay, Griffin might. But the others would just threaten to."
"Very reassuring." He finishes his window and moves to the next. "Have you thought about when you're going to tell them about this place?"
I focus very intently on a spot of dirt. "I'm working on it."
"Which means 'not yet,'" he translates.
"I'm waiting for the right moment," I explain. "Preferably when they're all in really good moods. Maybe after Mom wakes up and is back to normal."
Kru's expression softens at the mention of Mom. "How is she doing?"
"Still stable. No change yet." I swallow around the lump that forms in my throat whenever I think about Mom in that hospital bed. "But the doctors say they expect her to wake up within a few days, so that's something. And hey, I’ve got this big huge dirty barn to take my mind off things."
“I’m available to take your mind off things too, you know.” He winks up at me.