Her Hometown Dream
Chapter One
In the fading daylight of an early May evening, Amy Parker paused outside the front door of A Perfect Rise Bakery and studied the underside of the awning.
An exact replica of the original green and white striped material, she spotted the crisp seams and sharp colors and frowned.
Preserving history was her passion. She hated to see old things tossed aside, even if the threadbare fabric had lost its practicality decades ago.
A delicate jingle sounded. The heavy glass door swung outward, missing her nose by an inch. She hopped back and held the entryway open.
A woman in a suit stepped onto the sidewalk. “Ah-Choo!”
Amy jumped and raised her free hand, covering the lower half of her face.
Getting sick was definitely not on her checklist for her short homecoming trip.
She met the slightly glazed stare of go-to realtor, Leslie McDonnell.
A petite woman in her late fifties, Leslie was a known workhorse.
With her red-nose and flushed cheeks, however, she was anything but operating at her best.
“Oh, sorry, Amy.” Leslie held a large brown bag in her arms.
“It’s okay,” Amy replied.
“Just allergies. Promise. Spring fever gets me every year.” Leslie shifted her bundle and produced a tissue, loudly blowing into the square.
The honking sound didn’t fit the typical hay fever symptoms Amy occasionally experienced. Arguing with the town’s best negotiator, however, was a pointless activity. “Sure. I’ll get out of your way. You’re probably heading to a listing.”
“Yeah.” Leslie nodded, and her whole body swayed.
Amy propped the door with her foot and reached her hands to either side of the realtor’s elbows.
Just before impact, Leslie caught herself and straightened. “A listing. Yes. I have somewhere to be…”
Uh-oh. Leslie wasn’t one to waste a single second.
Amy scrolled through her mental record for Leslie’s nearest kin and came up empty.
Since graduating high school, Amy only spent a few months at most in her small town and then focused her time on her dearest friends and family.
“Can I call someone to pick you up? Do you need a ride? May I help you home?”
Leslie frowned and tilted her head to the side. Squinting several times, she scanned Amy. “I can manage. What about you? I hadn’t heard you were coming home.” She sniffed. “Are you back for good?”
“Just a couple weeks.” Amy didn’t like the wobble in Leslie’s knees. “Can I accompany you to your office, at least?”
Pulling out a fresh tissue, Leslie blew her nose with another loud blast. “I have an errand to run first. Nice to see you, Amy.” Leslie bustled past and continued down the sidewalk.
Amy wiped her palms on her jeans and followed Leslie’s retreat.
When the realtor disappeared into an office at the end of the street, Amy turned and strolled through the front door.
While people hardly changed, the landscape had been reinvigorated in recent years.
Her friend’s family business, A Perfect Rise Bakery, was a prime example.
The bakery retained its original entry with glass cases displaying a variety of treats and expanded into the storefront next-door with café seating from its former neighbor.
Nearly every table was claimed in the bustling space.
The smell of sugar, spice, and yeast mingled with the buzz of conversation to welcome her home.
Filling her nostrils with the heavenly scents, she sighed.
The changes were unexpected and not as strict to the 1930s style of the original building as she would have liked, but she appreciated the care in repurposing something already existing, rather than tearing down and building from scratch, probably the easier option.
Wish I could stay here forever. Everyone in the community knew her past, saving her the awkwardness of recounting her family situation.
If she’d found another place that fit her half as well, she would have stopped pining for home at thirty and settled somewhere else before the latest job offer.
She had two weeks and not a second more.
If she wasted time on tears, she’d drive a car full of regrets to her new job in Delaware.
She hadn’t stopped in to the bakery on impulse and returned to her study of the additional dining room, crossing the original black and white tiled floor to the join between the two buildings.
“Amy.” The cool tone echoed through the space with the efficiency of a single reverberating hit to a gong.
She turned her head and spotted tiny Samantha Holt with both hands on her hips.
Amy’s friend since preschool, short-statured Sam never let anything—or anyone—hold her down.
Amy had been glad to let someone else be the boss and put others in their place.
Leaving Harmony for college—immediately followed by grad school and a string of short-term contracts—was done with Sam’s approval.
Despite the distance, and Amy’s seasonal-only returns to town, their friendship remained strong.
Dodging patrons, Amy darted through the room to the table. “Hey, girlie.”
Sam gave Amy a tight squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me too,” Amy agreed.
The words rumbled deep in her chest, starting from her heart and echoing out.
She nibbled her lip to stop adding the conditions of her visit.
Studying historic preservation, she wasn’t surprised at how restrictive her niche degree proved in the job market.
If the job in Delaware is something I really want, I’ll have no problem leaving.
No, she couldn’t pin her frustrations entirely on work.
Harmony accepted her without question. She’d never find such unconditional love anywhere else.
With a shake, she sat in the chair next to Sam, her back against the wall. She didn’t want to be caught by surprise. “Thanks for the welcome home dinner.”
“Of course. You know I’ll take any excuse to sneak out of the office.” The corner of Sam’s mouth tilted up as she slid into her seat.
Amy reached for her water and sipped. Sam’s dedication to her parents’ auction business bordered on fanatical.
Pushing aside her long-held goal to become a museum curator, Sam had returned home after college.
Eight years later, she ran Holt Auctions.
Despite several opportunities at the various historical sites Amy had worked at over the past few years, she’d never convinced Sam to chase her dream.
I’m not exactly living mine. “So, any news? Any big sales?”
Sam crossed her arms. “No. Nothing exciting ever happens here. How are you? How was your drive?”
“Long and boring. I’m dreading the fourteen plus hours in a couple weeks.”
A redhead approached their table, bearing a breadbasket.
As always, every head turned in her direction.
The stunning woman might as well have been a queen bestowing jewels.
As the daughter of the bakery’s owners, she’d worked at the shop every day from sunrise to sunset, but still she commanded attention.
No one ever quite adjusted to Hannah Beacon’s movie-star good looks.
Hannah deposited the basket in the center of the table.
Amy stood and pulled her into a hug.
Sam scrambled to her feet and joined the embrace.
“It’s so good to see you,” Hannah whispered into Amy’s ear. She pulled away with a smile.
Everyone sat.
“What’s the scoop?” Hannah propped her elbows on the table. “Are you home for good?”
Amy shook her head. “Not yet. I have seventeen days until my job starts. I’ll be home for two weeks.” Her upper lip curled. She covered the slight grimace with her hand.
Her good fortune was nothing to sneer at, even if it didn’t align with her career goals.
While working on her first preservation contract, she’d stepped up and drafted a proposal to secure necessary funding for the project.
On each subsequent job, she was given more grant writing and administrative assignments.
She had a talent for the business side of the work, but she wanted to be hands-on.
The salaried role waiting for her on the east coast would be the final push out of her passion for working with the materials into strictly management and fundraising.
She was grateful for the opportunity to work in her field, even if only adjacent to her dreams. Her heart squeezed inside her chest. She wanted something more.
“What about the MacKinnon mansion?” Hannah asked, grabbing a roll and tearing off a bite.
Amy’s jaw slackened, and she furrowed her brow. Hannah couldn’t so cavalierly throw around the very inspiration for Amy’s entire professional life without explanation. Turning to Sam, the petite woman shrugged, mirroring Amy’s bafflement. “What are you talking about?”
Hannah held up a finger and sipped her water. “Leslie was in earlier ordering soup to-go. Poor thing. So sick.”
“I know,” Amy said. “She sneezed on me.”
Hannah shuddered. “She mentioned listing the old mansion. She had to hurry up and get over to the property. I assumed you had an internet alert set up about that house. You are sort of obsessed with it.”
Heat crept up Amy’s neck, and her throat went dry.
She did, in fact, have a search saved on her laptop’s internet browser.
The MacKinnon mansion had sparked her passion for old buildings and connected her with the parents she’d never known.
The grand home had been boarded up and abandoned her entire life. Why was the town’s owner listing now?
“You really didn’t know?” Hannah grinned. Leaning back, she folded her arms over her chest.
As the town’s aspiring actress, Hannah could embellish any moment to a heightened emotional state. Not even her dramatic skill could pierce through Amy’s whirring thoughts as possibilities pieced together.
“I could buy the house and restore it.” Amy pressed her fingers to her lips. Had she said the words out loud?
“How?” Sam frowned.