“That’s a good idea.” Benjamin’s gaze held a glimmer of admiration. “Your nana would’ve been thrilled that you're involved. She always found something for her knitting basket at the festival.”
Harper sighed at the memory of her nana holding her knitting needles. “I remember walking around the booths, looking for Nana’s favorite wool suppliers. It’s part of why I decided to take up knitting and sell my pieces this year. It makes me feel closer to her.”
Benjamin reached out, taking her hand in his. “Each item you make has her touch.”
Harper kissed her granddad’s cheek. “She taught me everything I know. Do you remember what she used to tell me about knitting?”
Her granddad grinned. “How could I forget? She used to say, ‘stitch by stitch, row by row, knitting’s the way I let my heart show’.”
Harper smiled. “I’m sure she said that to make me try harder.”
“Your nana had a way of making everyone try a little harder to be a better person. Before I met her, I was a drifter, never really putting down roots or caring about anything. Your nana changed all that. She gave me something to hold close, a reason to stay put and build a life.”
Harper pulled her feet onto the sofa and listened to her granddad tell her about his life in Sapphire Bay with his young bride. Most of the stories she’d heard before, but it didn’t matter. She was spending time with the man who’d looked after her when her parents divorced; when everything in her life didn’t make sense and she had nowhere else to go.
As the room grew dimmer with the setting sun, Harper rose from her seat. “Let’s get you ready for bed, Granddad. You need your rest.”
With a routine now familiar and tender, she helped Benjamin to his feet. They slowly moved toward the bedroom, his reliance on the walker a reminder of the stroke’s lasting effects. Harper kept a watchful eye on him, her heart aching with love for the man who’d been her rock for so many years.
In the bedroom, she helped him change into his pajamas, her movements gentle and practiced. “There we are,” she said softly as she tucked him into bed, fluffing his pillows to make sure he was comfortable.
“Thank you,” Benjamin said, his voice softening as weariness crept into his bones. “You’re a good girl, Harper. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Harper brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll always be here for you.” She placed a small bell on the nightstand beside him, making sure it was within easy reach. “If you need anything in the night just ring this and I’ll be right here.”
Benjamin nodded, his eyelids heavy with the pull of sleep. “I will, sweetheart.”
Turning off the main light, Harper plugged in a nightlight to keep the shadows at bay. She lingered at the doorway, watching her grandfather drift into slumber, his chest rising and falling with deep even breaths.
Quietly, she went back into the living room. The house was silent, except for the occasional creak of settling wood and the rustle of the wind in the trees.
She looked at the glass bowl on the table and smiled. She’d enjoyed seeing Owen tonight. It had been surprisingly easy to talk to him, to reconnect after many years of being away from home.
Daniella hadn’t said why her brother had returned to Sapphire Bay, and Harper hadn’t asked. But after seeing him tonight, she felt she understood without needing to ask.
There was a depth to Owen that spoke of experiences too complex for casual conversation. But his presence at the meeting hinted at a readiness to re-engage with the life he’d left behind. His enthusiasm for the festival showed a man who, despite whatever had driven him back, was finding his footing again. If there was one thing she respected, it was the courage it took to rebuild your life.
Chapter3
Owen measured and marked the acrylic sheets in the old steamboat museum’s workshop. Most of the construction crew had gone for the day, but Steve was here with him, building the shelving he’d use at the summer festival.
A few years earlier, Pastor John had turned the old steamboat museum into a large workshop for constructing tiny homes. Most of the building was still being used for that project, but other areas were being used by local craftspeople needing space to create their products.
As well as working on the tiny homes, Steve had rented a room for the sculptures he made in his spare time. It was a win-win situation for everyone, especially when he needed to do something a little different, like build shelving for the festival. Instead of sending dust into the air in his studio, he could use the construction area where the tiny homes were built. As long as they cleaned up after themselves, everyone was happy.
Steve placed the last screw into a frame and glanced at Owen. “What do you think?”
Owen turned on an LED lighting strip and placed it inside the shelving unit. “It’s turned out better than I imagined. The clear acrylic panels will showcase the glass much better than wooden shelving.” With a wide base and decorative clamp that attached to the edge of the booth, the display unit was sturdy and wouldn’t tip over.
Steve held another panel in front of the unit. “We can add the front cover once you’re happy with the design. That’ll keep curious fingers away from everything.”
Owen turned off the LED lights. “You’ve done an amazing job.”
“We’vedone an amazing job,” Steve corrected. “This would’ve taken a lot longer on my own.”
Owen turned as the main doors banged open.
Harper stepped into the room and quickly scanned the construction zone. When she saw him, she smiled and walked toward him.
