4. Flint
four
Flint
By the end of the first week, I've made good progress on the excavation and started laying the new foundation stones. I've also developed a serious problem.
Maple Webster.
She brings me coffee in the morning, iced tea in the afternoon, and genuine interest in my work that's as intoxicating as her smile.
She asks intelligent questions about the process, remembers details from previous conversations, and treats what I do with a respect that most people reserve for more prestigious professions.
It's been a long time since anyone looked at me the way she does—like I matter.
And then there's her daughter.
Ally appears every day after school, chattering about her classes while I work.
She's fearless around the construction site, respectful of my tools, and full of questions about everything from stone cutting to mortar mixing.
Yesterday, she brought me a crayon drawing of our house with a rainbow over it and "Thank you Mr. Flint" written in careful seven-year-old handwriting.
I've had that drawing folded in my wallet ever since.
This morning, I'm setting stones for the new corner when I hear the distinctive chime of a video call from inside the house. Maple's voice, tight with stress, carries through the open kitchen window.
"She has stability. We have a home, she's in a good school—"
A man's voice cuts her off, tinny through the laptop speakers but clear enough to understand. "You call that stability? Living in a falling-down house you can't afford to maintain?"
I set down my trowel and move closer to the kitchen window, not caring if it makes me look like I'm eavesdropping. Because I am.
"The house is being repaired," Maple says, her voice strained.
"With what money? You're barely scraping by as it is."
"That's not your concern anymore, Derek."
Derek . The ex-husband, I realize. The father who walked away and left Maple to raise their daughter alone.
"Ally is my concern. And I won't have her living in unsafe conditions because you're too stubborn to accept help."
"Help?" Maple's laugh is bitter. "You mean control. You want me to move back to Vancouver so you can play father when it's convenient for you."
"I want my daughter to have opportunities. Good schools, activities, a future that doesn't involve small-town limitations."
Something dark and protective rises in my chest. This bastard walked away from the most incredible woman I've ever met, and now he wants to dictate her choices?
"Silver Ridge is a good place to raise a child," Maple says firmly. "Ally is happy here."
"For now. But what happens when she gets older? When she wants more than this dead-end town can offer?"
I've heard enough. I stride to the front door and knock, hard enough to rattle the frame.
Maple opens it, her face flushed with anger and unshed tears. Behind her, I can see her laptop open on the kitchen table, Derek's face scowling from the screen.
"Sorry to interrupt," I say, not sorry at all. "I need to discuss the electrical work with you."
"Of course." Maple steps back, relief evident. "Derek, this is Flint Miller, our contractor. Flint, this is Derek, Ally's father."
Derek's image leans forward, trying to get a better look at me through the laptop camera. "Contractor. I see."
The dismissal in his tone sets my teeth on edge, but I keep my expression neutral. "The electrical box needs to be moved as part of the foundation work. Safety issue."
"How much will that cost?" Derek asks, as if he has any right to know.
"Already included in the estimate," I reply, looking only at Maple.
"Estimate?" Derek's voice sharpens. "How much are you paying for this work?"
"That's between Ms. Webster and me," I say before Maple can answer.
Derek's face twists into a scowl. "I'm her daughter's father. I have a right to know how my child support is being spent."
"Child support that barely covers groceries," Maple snaps. "And this is being paid for with my savings."
"Money you're wasting on a house that should be condemned."
That's it. I step closer to the laptop, making sure Derek gets a good look at me. "This house has good bones. Stone foundation, solid frame, quality materials. With proper maintenance, it'll stand for another century. Sometimes things worth having require work to preserve them."
My eyes find Maple's as I speak, and I see understanding flash across her face. We're not just talking about the house anymore.
"Flint's right," she says, straightening her shoulders. "This house is worth saving. And this is my decision to make."
Derek's expression turns ugly on the screen. "I see what's happening here. You're being taken advantage of by some local yokel who—"
"I think this conversation is over," Maple interrupts, her voice steady despite the emotion I can see simmering beneath the surface.
"Maple—"
She closes the laptop with a sharp click, cutting him off mid-sentence. The silence that follows feels like a victory.
Maple sags against the doorframe, suddenly fragile. "I'm sorry you had to witness that."
"Don't apologize. He's an ass."
A laugh bubbles out of her, surprising us both. "He is, isn't he? I don't know what I ever saw in him."
I can think of several things I'd like to say about what Derek saw in her—beauty, strength, the kind of warmth that makes a house feel like home. Instead, I ask, "You okay?"
"Getting there." She looks up at me, and something shifts in her expression. "Thank you. For what you said about the house. About things worth preserving."
"I meant it."
Our eyes hold for a long moment.
"I should get back to work," I say finally, though leaving her is the last thing I want to do.
"Flint?" she calls as I reach the door.
"Yeah?"
"Electrical work really is a safety issue, isn't it?"
I turn back to her, seeing the question behind the question. She's asking if I lied to get rid of Derek, if I overstepped boundaries that shouldn't be crossed.
"Box is too close to the excavation site," I say honestly. "Could be dangerous if we hit a water line. Needs to be moved."
Relief crosses her face. "Okay. Thank you."
"Anytime."
And I mean it. Derek wants to take her back to Vancouver, back to a life that didn't value what she had to offer. But I see her worth. I see the strength it takes to raise a child alone, to maintain a home with limited resources, to build a life in a place where people matter more than money.
Derek thinks this is a dead-end town with nothing to offer.
He's wrong. This town has Maple Webster.
And I'll be damned if I let anyone take her away.