“My dad would have loved this catalog,” Kathleen said, wiping her eyes. “He was always tinkering with things in his garage, trying to ‘improve’ my mother’s kitchen appliances.”
“Tell us more about him,” Isabel said as she settled onto a barstool.
“He was an engineer by training but a frustrated inventor at heart.” Kathleen’s eyes took on a faraway look. “One year, for Mother’s Day, he created what he called an ‘automated flour sifter’ for Mom’s bread baking. It was a contraption with a small motor from an old fan and a series of gears.”
“Did it work?” Lynda asked.
“It worked beautifully—for about three minutes. Then it sprayed flour across the entire kitchen like a snow machine.” Kathleen grinned at the memory. “Mom pretended to be upset, but she kept that ridiculous thing for years. She said it was the thought that counted.”
Isabel smiled, imagining a younger Kathleen watching her father’s inventions come to life. “Your dad sounds wonderful.”
“He was,” Kathleen agreed softly. “He’d be thrilled to see me remodeling this place. He always said houses with good bones deserved second chances.”
“Like bookstores,” Lynda added, giving Isabel a knowing look.
“And people,” Isabel murmured.
On the iPad, Susan reappeared, slightly flushed. “Crisis averted! Now, where were we? Oh yes, the island cabinets.”
As they returned to the serious business of kitchen design, Isabel enjoyed the easy banter between her friends. After fifty years, she was deeply grateful for these women who understood her in ways no one else could. They’d seen her through her happiest moments and her darkest days. Now they were here, helping each other build new dreams in the town that had sparked their friendship so many years ago.
“What color should I paint the ceiling?” Kathleen asked, interrupting Isabel’s thoughts.
“The ceiling?” Lynda looked up in surprise. “People usually paint those white.”
“Exactly! Everyone does white. But my kitchen deserves something special.”
“A very pale blue,” Isabel suggested. “Like the sky on a clear morning. It would make the room feel taller and bring in even more light.”
Kathleen’s face lit up. “That sounds fabulous!”
“If you do that,” Susan chimed in from the iPad, “you should pull the same color down onto the top of the upper cabinets. It’ll create a seamless transition. A friend did that in their beach house last year, and it was stunning.”
As they discussed the merits of various paint finishes, Isabel imagined Frank in his kitchen—sitting at the island with a cup of coffee. Tommy would be perched beside him, telling Frank one of his elaborate stories.
She held back a sigh as she thought about the unanswered texts she’d sent Frank. William would have called her if he’d gone to the lake and something had happened. But if he was injured as well, she might not find out what had happened until she went to Frank’s house.
Either way, she desperately wanted to know whether he’d met the person who’d left the message in his entryway.
“Earth to Isabel,” Lynda said, waving a hand in front of her face. “You disappeared on us for a minute.”
Isabel felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I was thinking about how wonderful this kitchen will be when it’s finished,” she lied. “It’s perfect for get-togethers like this.”
“Speaking of get-togethers,” Kathleen said to her friends. “When should I schedule my housewarming party? I’m thinking late September, when the renovations are done.”
“Perfect,” Lynda agreed. “By then, I should know if I can stay in Sapphire Bay permanently.”
“And I can fly back to Montana,” Susan added. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Isabel looked around at the chaos of the half-demolished kitchen, seeing past it to the future space filled with laughter and friendship. “I’ll bring the wine,” she promised. “And maybe by then, I’ll have a house of my own to show you.”
“That’s the spirit,” Kathleen said, squeezing her hand. “New beginnings for all of us.”
As they looked at more hardware options, Isabel thought about her friends. Whatever happened with Frank, these women would be here to support her, just as they always had.
And that certainty was worth more than all the lakefront properties in Montana.
CHAPTER 30
