Paul winked. “After dinner I ran a few errands and plotted.”
“As in land or as in crimes?”
“Crimesis a bit too aggressive. Let’s call it a secret mission. Let’s go downstairs, and you’ll see.”
Tessa’s wary gaze caused Paul to continue smiling at her. Her stomach flip-flopped. “I sense mischief.”
“The best kind.”
Before Tessa and Paul reached the front door of Scrambled, she heard a multitude of voices. As they came around the side of the building, people were crossing the street toward the diner, and a large crowd huddled together on the front patio, talking and sipping coffee from to-go cups. Tessa noticed hand-painted signs shoved into the garden with thin metal stakes. Tessa read, “Save Honeysuckle Hollow! Eat at Scrambled! A portion of the proceeds will be donated to restoring this historic home!” Blue block letters had been painted across the spanning front window of Scrambled: “Keep Mystic Water’s History Alive!”
A repurposed wooden lemonade stand had been set up on the front patio of the diner. “Fresh Baked Goods” was painted in pink letters across the wooden banner section of the stand, and a plastic gallon milk jug, with its top portion cut off, sat on the narrow top. “Money for Honeysuckle Hollow” had been written in black marker across the jug. Pastries, donuts, cookies, brownies, and cakes covered an accompanying rectangular folding table.
Tessa stopped beside the low stone fence in front of the diner. “What is going on?”
Paul grabbed her hand. “Mom and Dad want to help. The best way they can show their support is to encourage people to eat at the diner and donate fifty percent of the profit to the restoration of Honeysuckle Hollow. They don’t want you to be unable to rehab the house the way we’d intended. And it’s also a historical landmark. Dozens and dozens of people have already seen the signs and come in for breakfast. We’ve raised a few hundred dollars in only a couple of hours.
“Anna and Eli asked if they could set up a bake sale to help you as well. They were up all night using the kitchen. They’re probably inside refilling on juice and coffee. Once word spread that Anna O’Brien was baking homemade goods in Mystic Water again, people flocked here like blackbirds.” He squeezed her hand. “I requested to post an addition to the original article I wrote forSouthern Living. And I found a dozen other websites that let me post articles about the house and about the unexpected damage. I mentioned that due to a storm, the town was seeking financial support to restore the house. People have been posting on social media too. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people interested in sending money. All for you, Tess.”
Tessa’s tears came easily. “For me?” She lifted their joined hands and pressed them against her cheek. “I—I can’t believe it. I’m speechless.”
Paul smiled. “You inspired me to do this. All this talk about the town always helping each other, you finding people places to stay after the flood, and Dr. Hamilton helping people with Honeysuckle Hollow. I wouldn’t have believed this kind of love and support was real, but in Mystic Water it is. Come inside. You can say hello to everyone who wants to help Honeysuckle Hollowandyou.”
Tessa felt so overwhelmed by the gesture that she had to remind herself to breathe. Scrambled was full of well-wishers and encouraging words. People by the dozens drifted over to her table in the hour and a half she and Paul sat there eating Shamrock eggs—a special recipe Cecilia served just for the occasion. Green bell peppers were sliced into rings to resemble four leaf clovers, and a sunny-side up egg was cooked in the center of each ring. A side of breakfast sausage and hash browns finished off the meal.
While Tessa and Paul ate, people shared stories about how Honeysuckle Hollow had played some part in their lives. “Happy to help” was the most common phrase she heard, and Tessa’s heart swelled every time they spoke it. She couldn’t say thank you enough, and after a while, she wondered if the peoplereallyknew how grateful she was, that she wasn’t only saying the words but that she felt them deeply.
Nell Foster pushed open the diner door with her kids and two women in tow. Her eyes found Tessa’s, and she waved. She hurried over with her group on her heels. They crowded around the booth.
“Anna said you were in here,” Nell said. She shoved a folded envelope into Tessa’s hands. “It’s nothing big, but we scrounged up some money for you and Honeysuckle Hollow. I admit I thought you were off your rocker when you said you were going to rehab it and live in it at the same time, but after knowing how much you helped all of us”—she motioned to the two women beside her—“when we were in desperate need of a place to live, we knew we had to help you. If you need another good mason, Liam’s your man, and he’ll volunteer his services, as long as it’s on the weekends.”
Tessa stared at the envelope and then looked up at Nell. She slid out of the booth and hugged Nell. “Thank you.” She thanked the two women with her as well. “When it’s all fixed up, I’ll have y’all over for dinner. We’ll throw a big party.”
Nell smiled. “We’ll be there. You let me know if you need Liam’s help.”
As the women and children walked off to find a table big enough to hold them, Tessa slid back into the booth. Paul cut through a cinnamon roll that had gone cold at least half an hour earlier. He forked the piece into his mouth and eyed her.
“Do you—do you think this will actually raise enough money for all the repairs and restoration?” Tessa asked.
Paul slid the other half of the treat toward Tessa. “It’ll take a lot of money to repair the whole house, but this . . .” He looked over his shoulder toward the patio where Anna and Eli were surrounded by people wanting baked goods. “All of this is going to help a lot.”
Tessa ripped off a piece of cinnamon roll, even though she was full, and popped it into her mouth. “This town has always been so supportive, but still I’m surprised by the overflow of help.”
“Theywantto help.”
A hefty man with a head full of wild sandy-brown hair and a bushy beard pushed open the diner’s door. His gaze met Tessa’s, and he walked toward her.
“Ms. Andrews?” the man asked in a gruff voice.
“Yes, sir.”
He held out his hand. “I’m Donald Tripper from the community college. I teach a busload of students about civil engineering. Most of them are majoring in construction management. My brother lives here in town, and he called me this morning about a rehab project you’re working on. He thought it might be a good hands-on experience for the kids. It would give them experience with a different sort of build, and it’d give you free labor from a good many talented workers. I wouldn’t offer this if I didn’t think they’d do a stand-up job.”
Tessa looked at Paul, and he nodded his head. Then he held out his hand toward Mr. Tripper. “I’m Paul Borelli, the architect on the Honeysuckle Hollow rehab. I’d be glad to talk you through the plans and let you decide if the students would benefit from assisting with renovations. I know we could use the help, and we appreciate your offer. If you have a few minutes, we could step outside and talk.”
“Sure, sure,” Mr. Tripper said. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Andrews.”
Tessa stacked their empty plates and walked into the kitchen to hug Cecilia and Harry. She thanked them for their extravagant generosity. Then she slipped outside to talk with Anna and Eli. “I can’t thank you both enough.”
