Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
JANUARY
MILLER
“Are you sure that office is big enough for you?” Frankie asks, pointing at the architect’s plans laid out on her grandpa’s kitchen table. “You’ll be working from home so much you might need more space than that.”
“It’s huge,” I tell her. “The main thing I need is a big enough area to spread out blueprints. Looking at them on a computer just isn’t the same.
And I have that right there.” I point to a corner of the room where a drafting table with spotlights over it will go.
“Plus, if I need to store more things, I’ll also have the workshop. ”
Ever since I used the replacement plank for the back of the feed shed as a practice piece, my fingers have been itching to get back to woodworking.
So the plans for our new house include a workshop where I can set up all the equipment my grandfather left me and I can, for the first time in my life, have a hobby.
“It’s going to be the most beautiful home,” Elsie says.
Sam and Elsie are sitting across the table from us, looking at the plans upside down.
“I still can’t believe you’re back for good.” Sam reaches across the drawing and takes hold of Frankie’s arm. “And right next door, too.”
“Yup,” I say, smiling at Frankie. “Guess I did end up buying some Warm Springs land to build on after all.”
“If it weren’t for you, none of us would be sitting here at all,” Sam says. “That awful man would be digging it up for his commuter homes by now.”
Frankie shudders.
“At least I succeeded in stopping that from happening,” I say. “Just not in quite the way I intended.”
I also solved the problem of Skinner and his friend in the New York state government who was going to block the retroactive application for the rescue registry. For the first time in this whole situation, my money and power came in handy, and I didn’t even need to set my lawyers on him.
Brooke did some digging, found out who Skinner’s so-called friend was—I will never believe he has any actual friends—and I went up to Albany to meet him.
All it took was a very expensive lunch and a couple of hours of my persuasive skills to get him to understand what a toad Skinner is, and he promised to wave the Channings’ application through.
Oh, and I might also have promised to renovate a crumbling public swimming pool in his constituency—a project that will likely win him a few votes in his upcoming election.
Frankie puts her hand on my thigh under the table, sending a shiver straight to my groin. I don’t foresee there ever being a day when her touch won’t light a fire in my body as well as my heart.
“We’ve been thinking,” Sam says with a sideways glance at Elsie. “Once your house is built and Frankie moves out of here…we thought…well…” He puts his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “That maybe Elsie might move in.”
Frankie gasps and claps her hand over her mouth, her eyes instantly bright with tears.
For a second I’m not sure which way she’s swinging with that.
But all doubt is gone when she springs from her seat and runs around the table to hug them both. “That’s fantastic! I’m so happy for you. But you can move in now if you like, Elsie. Don’t feel you have to wait for me to be out of here.”
“She’s not happy with the kitchen,” Sam says, jerking his head toward the crooked cabinet doors. “So we’re going to wait until Miller’s guys have done the renovations.”
“They’ll start next week.” And I’m worried they haven’t grasped how much mess there’ll be.
“It could be a bit disruptive, what with them replacing the whole kitchen, both bathrooms, and all the windows. Also, I thought I could bring some painters in to give the whole place a quick refresh, if you like.”
Sam and Elsie look at each other, faces lit up.
“That would be fabulous, Miller,” she says. “Thank you.”
“I only wish you’d let me put you in a hotel while it’s done so you don’t have to live with the mess,” I say.
“Much easier to wake up here and be able to just walk out the door to let out the donkeys first thing in the morning,” Sam says.
“How about we see how it goes?” Frankie suggests, moving to answer a knock at the door. “We can always go to a hotel anytime it gets too annoying.”
She opens the door to reveal the smiling face of Aramis from the coffee shop.
He’s one of many locals who signed up in the new wave of sanctuary volunteers.
The place is abuzz with them this Saturday morning.
Some are mucking out, others grooming the donkeys, some doing general clean-up, and a mechanic from the car repair shop is in the barn trying to get the old tractor going.
Frankie wants to use it for rides at the next big open day that she’s planning for spring.
All of this fresh energy stems from Frankie’s amazingly successful social media push and the Thanksgiving Day event—not to mention the valiant recruitment efforts by the woman I now know is local fixture Mrs. B.
“Morning,” Aramis calls past Frankie, waving to all of us at the table. “Just wanted to let you know the faucet in the main stable is dripping.”
Frankie laughs and looks at me. “Miller fixed that last time, so I’ll get him to take another look at it.”
“I might be more of a carpenter than a plumber,” I say, “but I’ve been around enough construction sites and renovations to know it probably needs a new washer. I’ll go to the hardware store later.”
“And thanks for bringing coffees for everyone this morning,” Frankie says, pointing at the cups in front of each of us. “The volunteers loved it.”
“My pleasure,” Aramis says. “Who could have known when you showed up in the coffee shop that morning with your flyer that you’d end up being back here for good just a couple of months later?”
“Yeah.” Frankie turns to me, that look of deep love in her eyes that makes me the luckiest man in the world. “I never imagined it myself. It’s funny how things can turn out.”
As she says goodbye and closes the door, Sam jumps at the sound of his phone making a ker-ching sound.
“Oh.” His face lights up. “Frankie put this app on my phone that lets me know every time someone donates, or sponsors a donkey, or buys an annual membership or something.”
“It’s linked to the website,” Frankie tells me.
“Look.” A beaming Sam shows his phone to Elsie, then turns it around to face us. “Someone bought a We Save Your Ass hoodie.”
“It is the best slogan in the history of slogans,” I declare.
“Grandma came up with it when I was a kid,” Frankie says.
“She was a very smart woman, from everything I’ve heard,” Elsie says.
Frankie and Sam look at each other and nod.
“I remember thinking I was super grown-up being allowed to use a bad word because it was part of our official motto.” Frankie giggles.
Now seems like the right time for my last bit of news.
“I’ve got one more thing to show you.” I reach for another rolled up plan that I hid earlier on the seat of the chair tucked under the end of the table. I’ve already had to subtly stop Thelma from jumping on it twice.
“Your love of architectural drawings knows no bounds,” Frankie says.
“They are a thing of beauty.” I stand up, unfurl it over the top of the house plans, and hold it down at the four corners with our Bearded Bean coffee cups.
“Is that…” Frankie stands up and leans over it so she can get a better look, her brow furrowed as she concentrates. “…our barn?”
She walks around the table to stand behind Sam and Elsie because I’ve rolled it out facing them.
“Yup,” I say. “My first day here you told me how you’d always thought it would make a great tearoom and gift shop. So, voilà.” I gesture to the plans.
“Seriously?” Sam looks up at me, eyes wide and welling, like I’ve just offered him the keys to a magical kingdom.
I blow out a breath of relief. I’d been worried he might think I’m trying to take over, what with building a home next door, renovating his house, and getting the old arts barn ready to reopen as a hub for craftspeople. So, I couldn’t be happier that he doesn’t think I’m interfering too much.
“This is the tearoom area over here.” I point to a counter and round tables in the back left section of the barn.
“This could be an area set up with displays”—I point to the back right—“and the story of the history of the sanctuary, where you could give your talks on open days. Then this part at the front could be the gift shop.”
“And this…” I draw their attention to a separate plan off to the side that shows the loft area that had been my temporary home. “I thought it might make a good kids’ activity space. All donkey-learning related, of course.”
“Oh, my God,” Sam says. “This is amazing.”
“I have some renderings on my computer that I can show you later to give you a better idea of what it might look like. I’ll get my dad and brothers back to do all the woodwork, so it’ll be top notch.
And I have a great interior designer who will make it fresh and welcoming, but still keep the feel of a working farm so it all fits in. ”
“And the tearoom could get their pastries from Kneads Must, because they are the best,” Elsie says.
Frankie and Sam shrug in earnest agreement, like why would anyone consider any other baked-goods plan?
“This could be a great earner,” Frankie says, squeezing her grandpa’s shoulder. “The tearoom itself could attract people just because the setting’s so gorgeous. We could have tables outside in the summer.”
“You’ll see the patio in the computer drawings,” I tell Sam.
Frankie rests her other hand on Elsie’s shoulder, like she’s the bridge between two people who have found each other later in life. But at least they found each other.
“Thank you for doing all this for us,” she says.
“Oh, I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for those guys.” I jerk my head toward the donkey paddocks. “I wasn’t kidding when I said this place changed my life.”
I walk around the table to the others and circle my arm around Frankie’s waist, snuggling up to her back. “And I didn’t even know it needed changing.”
She tips her head against my chest, leaning into my heart.
Out of nowhere, Thelma jumps up onto the table and pads across the plans.
“Nope, not on the plans,” Frankie says, reaching for her.
Sam shouts, “Careful,” and tries to push Frankie’s hand back right as Thelma hisses and raises a threatening paw.
“What’s wrong with me? Why did I even try that? She was nice to me one time, and I somehow think I now have a chance every time.”
I reach past her and pick up the cat. “Don’t write her off.” Thelma immediately nuzzles into my neck and purrs as I scratch her under the chin. “She knew I was a good guy before you ever did.”
Our heads turn at the sound of another knock. But this time it’s at the window, not the door.
We all laugh at Dave’s nose nudging the sliding window open.
“The new windows had better still be slidable for him,” Sam says.
“Yeah,” Frankie makes her way over to grab a carrot from the jar. “There’s a lot of new stuff going on around here, but some things should never change.”
She blows me a kiss, then gives Dave a carrot and rubs his nose.
“But you know what?” I say. “Wherever it is he keeps getting out from, I promise I’ll never fix it.”
It might have been revenge that brought me to this inspiring, life-changing place, but it’s love that’ll keep me here. And Dave and his pals, of course.
This place saved my ass.