Chapter 18
Honey
That evening, the farmhouse kitchen smelled like kid’s shampoo and cinnamon.
A pan of apple pie cookies sat cooling on the counter—an odd-sounding mashup Honey had doubted but found surprisingly delicious.
She sat at the big wooden table with her laptop open in front of her, the screen a glowing testament to her lack of progress.
The cursor blinked accusingly from the blank space beneath the title: Hale Family Wishing Well – Audit Report.
Ethan was rinsing dishes at the sink, sleeves rolled up, forearms damp, while the two older girls’ chatter floated down the hall from their room. Melly was sprawled on the carpet in the living room, legs kicking idly in the air as she doodled wobbly hearts on a paper with a glitter pen.
Honey was busy watching her when she heard the rumble of a truck outside. It struck her as odd. Out here, on a quiet stretch of road where the only traffic was Ethan and Marlene. She glanced toward the window, but before she could investigate, a small voice pulled her back in.
“Are mermaids allowed to eat cake for breakfast?” Melly asked, the latest in a string of increasingly imaginative questions.
“I believe that is out of my jurisdiction,” Honey answered.
“What’s a dirt-a-diction?” Melly didn’t look up from her drawing.
Honey grinned. “The things I’m allowed to know the rules about.”
“Daddy says you know the rules about everything.”
Ethan chuckled from the sink and their eyes met for a moment.
“I wish I could meet a mermaid,” Melly said dreamily.
Honey didn’t comment on the validity of the wish. Instead, she bit back a smile at the ridiculous, blooming warmth in her chest and the urge to open her database to check who the Seaside Director of Arcane Relations was. She mentally drafted an email requesting a visit for the little girl.
But when she looked back over at Melly, her glitter pen had gone still. Her lashes fluttered once, twice, then stilled too. One chubby hand curled around the pen. The other tucked under her cheek.
Honey swallowed, feeling the quiet settle deep in her chest.
“She’s out,” Ethan said softly, stepping around the counter.
He scooped Melly into his arms, and her head flopped briefly against his shoulder. She mumbled as she nestled in.
As he carried her down the hall, the sound came again—a sharp slam of a car door. Honey’s body went still.
She drifted toward the window, careful not to make a sound.
Pushing back the curtain, she spotted the unmistakable bulk of government vehicles at the end of the long gravel drive.
Their hazard lights blinked in slow pulses, casting orange glows over the tractor parked nearby.
Four dark SUVs, each with state plates, blocked the road.
Four men in jackets stepped out—buttoned-up, square-shouldered, all business.
One of them was already holding a clipboard, and scanning the house.
Her stomach dropped.
No routine department sent four vehicles. Not this late. Not without a reason.
Her pulse jumped. This wasn’t a friendly visit or a follow-up inspection. This was action.
“Who’s that?” a voice said behind her.
Honey startled. Emma stood in the hallway, eyes narrowed toward the window.
“Just a delivery,” Honey said quickly.
“This late?”
“Go get your dad,” Honey said, trying to sound calm.
“He’s singing to Melly. I can just sign for it.” Emma padded forward and reached for the doorknob.
Honey moved fast, stepping directly in her path.
Emma’s hand froze mid-air. “What are you doing?”
Honey’s mind spun as she looked at Emma—freckled, proud, still young enough to believe that magic could solve all her problems. This was the girl who had made wishes to protect her family, who had taken that responsibility into her own hands. The girl who had tried.
Honey couldn’t let her see this.
After everything Emma had done to hold this place together, to protect the people she loved, Honey couldn’t let her think it hadn’t been enough.
“You can’t answer the door for strangers.”
“You’re literally right here.”
Something hot flared in Honey’s chest—panic, maybe, or the need to keep this sweet, brave girl safe from one more unfair thing.
“Emma,” she said, sharper than she meant to, “you are not opening that door. I am an adult, and I told you no. I don’t care if it’s a delivery or Brody Fitch himself, you stay inside. Go. Now.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open, eyes wide. Hurt flashed there, but she turned on her heel and stomped down the hallway. “You’re not my mom.”
Honey exhaled, guilt already tightening in her throat, but there wasn’t time to fix it now.
She grabbed her cardigan from the hook by the door, pulled it tight around her, and stepped outside.
The air had shifted. It smelled of the thick, charged breeze that came right before a summer storm cracked open the sky. Dark clouds pulled together overhead. The gravel crunched beneath her boots as she marched toward the vehicles.
One of the men looked up. “Evening,” he said, adjusting the clipboard against his arm.
“Honey Baxter from the Bureau of Compliance.” She held out her hand, but he didn’t take it. Instead, he looked back down at his clipboard.
Of course. She could practically see the calculation in his eyes: a woman, not in a suit, not standing behind a badge, was not worth the courtesy.
Still, her spine snapped straight. She’d worked too long in too many low-lit basements of city buildings not to recognize the kind of man who thought the thing between his legs gave him more authority than her actual title did.
“What’s going on?” Honey asked, voice firm. “Why are you here?”
The man flipped a page on his clipboard. “We’re here to take preliminary measurements for easement access and potential clearing. Bulldozer’s scheduled for first of the month.”
“Bulldozer?” Her voice went sharp. “For what?”
He gave her a look. “Ma’am, I’m not here to debate. I’ve got paperwork. I’m just doing my job.”
He handed her a thick packet, stapled at the corner. The words swam before her eyes, but she picked up on one.
Honey blinked. “A hearing? You’re saying the bureau’s trying to take the house?”
“No need to get hysterical, ma’am,” he said. “I’m just doing my job.”
She snapped her gaze up to him. “You think this is hysterical?” Her voice dropped, sharp and cold as glass.
“I am with the bureau. I know exactly what this is, and I also know your department shouldn’t be conducting late-night measurements on a private residence without confirmed notice of hearing receipt. ”
That made him pause.
“I’m auditing this property,” she added, squaring her shoulders. “And I’ll be logging this visit—and your failure to confirm contact—with the department. Now tell me again: Who approved this site visit?”
The man shifted slightly, clearly reevaluating her.
Behind her, the front door creaked open.
“What’s going on?” Ethan asked.
Honey turned to him, her face tight as she thrust the paperwork into his hands. “The bureau is holding a hearing on August 28th.” Her voice cracked just enough to make her furious. “They’re trying to take the house.”
Footsteps sounded on the porch as Ethan came to stand beside her.
She waited a long moment while he flipped through the pages. His eyes moved slowly. She studied his face, hoping for anger, for a spark of that stubborn pride she knew lived somewhere inside him.
But all she got was a tired sigh.
Ethan exhaled through his nose. “Well,” he said almost to himself. “Guess that’s that.”
Honey blinked. “That’s that?” She turned toward him, incredulous. “That’s it? You’re not even going to try?”
She grabbed the paper back and flipped through them as if the answer might be hidden in the fine print.
“What about an appeal?” she asked, her voice tight with worry. “A postponement? Hell, at least let me make a phone call?”
“Honey, stop.”
“You have to at least ask.”
“What good would that do now?” Ethan looked at the house like it were already gone. “I know how these people work. It won’t stop them. And I’m not about to beg.”
“But there has to be—” She looked to the clipboard man, who was very purposefully studying his paperwork.
“Let it go, Honey,” Ethan said.
She didn’t. She couldn’t. “It’s your home. You need to do something.”
“I know what I need,” he snapped, still calm, but the edges of his voice were fraying.
“Then do something!” She threw her arms to her sides. “You’re just standing there like you’ve already given up.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Clearly, you do.”
His eyes narrowed. “This isn’t your business.”
“I made it my business the second I stepped onto this farm and saw how much you were losing. The second I saw your kids trying to hold it all together like it was their job to keep the walls from caving in.”
Thunder rumbled off in the distance as Ethan stared back at her.
She lowered her voice. “If you won’t fight for the house, fine. But fight for them.”
He stepped closer, his voice low. “Maybe things have changed between us since you first got here, but hanging around for a couple weeks doesn’t give you the right to fix what you don’t understand.”
“I’m not trying to fix it,” she snapped. “I’m trying to keep your kid from watching plans for her home get taken away like it doesn’t matter!”
One of the officials took a small step back, having the good sense to look sheepish. The others kept their heads down, pretending to focus on their measurements.
Ethan's mouth twisted, as if the words were pulled from a place he didn’t mean to go but couldn’t stop himself.
“Tell me, Ms. Baxter, what do you know about keeping a family afloat? Paying bills with no net, no backup, no magic fix? What do you actually know about being responsible for more than just yourself?”
Honey reeled back.
“Just finish up,” he said to the men, and then, without waiting for a response, stormed back toward the house.
Honey stared after him, heart pounding, throat tight. Then she turned back to the suits and said, steady and clear, “Come back when you’ve provided legal notice and received confirmation of delivery. Until then, this is trespassing.”
The man closest to her responded, “You’re serious?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You want to see serious? Try measuring this house with me standing here.”
He looked at her, and whatever he saw in her expression made him pause. He nodded slowly.
He exhaled through his nose. “Alright,” he muttered. “I’ll send the notice tomorrow.”
The men gave her stiff nods, climbed into their trucks, and rolled off down the drive, with their taillights blinking red in the darkness.
Honey stayed rooted in place as the adrenaline subsided.
Behind her, the first fat drop of rain splashed against the gravel. Then another.
She tilted her face to the sky, let the rain hit her skin, and wondered if she was already too late.