Joann’s handshake was firm, her smile genuine. “We met the other day, didn’t we? Downstairs by the rotunda.”
“We did,” Darcy said, relieved at the recognition.
“We’re installing the quilt exhibition next week—Appalachian pattern lineage. You do any museum work out West?”
“A little,” Darcy said. “Curation and exhibition support.”
“Good,” Joann replied. “We’re short a set of hands. If you’ve got time, come up after lunch.”
Lou gave Darcy a wink. “Told you this town needed you.”
The wordgallerylit a spark in Darcy she hadn’t felt in months—small but alive, like a pilot light catching after too long in the dark. It wasn’t just a job. It was something that felt like hers again.
At noon, she climbed the hundred and four courthouse steps, each one a small victory. Inside, the rotunda’s light fell like honey through the tall windows.
Joann met her at the gallery doors, pressed cotton gloves into her hands, and nodded toward a long table. “Ledger first, then sightlines.”
They worked in rhythm, moving quilt to quilt. Joann’s voice softened as she named the patterns—Log Cabin, Bear Paw, Wedding Ring—like old friends. Darcy’s palms tingled under the gloves, each piece holding a story sewn into the seams.
Joann touched a faded blue. “Pieced in 1934 by a woman who outlived the mill closure by sewing for neighbors. Cloth can hold a life.”
Darcy nodded. “Yes. It can.”
By mid-afternoon, Joann clicked her folio shut. “You shadowed well. Come back Monday and I’ll put you on the floor plan—maybe label proofs if you’re game.”
Darcy walked down the courthouse steps lighter than she’d climbed them.
Burke was waiting at the bottom, one boot on the lowest riser, a brown paper sack dangling from his hand. Sunlight caught in his hair, that steady grin making her pause.
“Figured you might need lunch,” he said, holding up the bag. “Ham-on-rye emergency kit.”
She laughed. “How did you know?”
“Stopped in at the Visitor Center. Lou mentioned Joann had you up here. Easy to miss lunch once she starts talking.”
Her smile lingered. “You came all the way up here just to rescue me from missing lunch?”
“Rescuing’s part of the job,” he said, that hint of heat in his grin making her cheeks warm. “Besides, Lou said you’re worth the trouble.”
They split sandwiches on a bench in the plaza, passing a bottle of Cheerwine between them. Flags lifted in the breeze above, and a delivery truck’s backing beep mixed with the hum of Main Street. Ordinary sounds. Good sounds.
“You look like you belong in there,” he said.
She rolled the cap in her palm. “I hope I do.”
He leaned back, one arm along the bench—close enough she could feel the warmth of him, steady and unhurried. The space between them hummed with something neither dared to name.
“Hike with me tomorrow?” he asked. “Cold Creek Falls. It’s quiet, and the trail’s kind.”
She wanted to say no because that was safer. She wanted to say yes because she was tired of living locked up.
“Yes,” she said. “I’d like that.”
His grin widened. “Ten a.m., then.”
The campground store’s bell chimed as she stepped in, air cool and faintly sweet with pine cleaner. Ned was on the porch, whittling.
“How are you liking our little mountain town?” he asked.
