“Maggie.” She stepped forward, offering her hand. “Yes, I’m planning to teach some basic woodworking skills.”
Claire’s grip was strong, her fingernails short and clean. “About time. I’ve been asking Hollis for a workshop for months.” She turned to Hollis. “No offense.”
“None taken.” Hollis smiled. “Claire used to help her father with home repairs before she got married. She’s been our unofficial maintenance person since she arrived.”
“Until that jackass Knox showed up and took over.” Claire’s tone was gruff but lacked real heat.
“Knox is a jackass,” Hollis agreed. “But his family also pays our bills, so if he wants to moonlight as our resident handyman, I can’t exactly stop him. He’s a wildland firefighter in real life,” she added for Maggie, Nessie, and Naomi’s benefit.
Claire snorted. “Yeah, better at tearing stuff up than fixing it.” She turned to Maggie with newfound interest. “You really know what you’re doing?”
“I do. I’ve been building and renovating professionally for over a decade.”
“She has her own TV show,” Angel piped up, clearly impressed. “Naomi said so.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “TV, huh? You one of those decorators who just points and tells men where to put things?”
The challenge was clear, and Maggie had faced enough of them on job sites to recognize it. She held Claire’s gaze steadily. “No. I’m the one who tears down load-bearing walls, rebuilds foundations, and does my own tile work.”
“Good.” Claire crossed her arms. “So, what’s the plan? When do we start?”
Here was a woman who’d been through hell but still wanted to build, to create, to fix broken things.
“As soon as possible,” Maggie answered. “I’m thinking we start with the basics—measuring, cutting, joining. Then move on to simple projects. Birdhouses are good for learning joinery.”
“I want to build a bed frame,” a voice called from the hallway. A younger woman with a cascade of black curls and a toddler balanced on her hip appeared. “The one in my room creaks, and Jamie keeps waking up when I move.”
“Beds are a bit advanced for beginners,” Maggie cautioned. “But definitely something we can work toward.”
Within minutes, five more women had drifted into the sunroom, all curious about the carpentry and baking classes. Even Tariah looked up occasionally, though she remained silent. They peppered Maggie and Nessie with questions—how often would classes be, what tools would they need, could they make things to sell?
This was what she missed most about her show—not the cameras or the fame, but the act of teaching, of passing on skills that could change someone’s life.
“I think we should set up the workshop in the garage,” Hollis suggested after the initial flurry of questions died down. “It’s insulated, and there’s enough space for workbenches along the walls.”
“I thought the same as we drove up. Mind if I take a look?”
Hollis led her through a side door to a detached two-car garage. The space was tidy but utilitarian, currently serving as storage for donations and seasonal items. She circled the perimeter, assessing the electrical outlets, the lighting, the ventilation.
“We’d need to build some workbenches. Maybe three or four to start? And tool storage—a pegboard wall would be ideal.”
“Budget’s tight,” Hollis warned. “We can probably swing basic hand tools, but power tools might be a stretch.”
“I’ll talk to Anson,” Maggie said without thinking. “He’s got extras of almost everything in his forge. And I’m sure Valor Ridge would donate something.” She paused, picturing Anson’s face when she told him about borrowing his tools. The man who meticulously arranged his hammers by size and type. “Well, maybe not Anson specifically. But the ranch would help.”
Nessie laughed. “Oh, Anson will give you anything you ask for. He just might die inside a little while doing it.”
Heat crept up Maggie’s neck. Yes, he’d give her anything she wanted. Anything except for him. He’d made that perfectly clear last night.
Hollis, mercifully, steered the conversation back to logistics. “I can probably get Knox to help build the workbenches. He owes me a favor.”
“I’d like to help with that part, actually,” Maggie said. “Let the women see the process from the beginning. First lesson could be workbench construction.”
Hollis nodded, a genuine smile lighting her face. “That’s perfect. When can you start?”
“Wednesday? That gives me time to gather materials and plan the lessons.”
“Perfect.” Hollis looked at Nessie. “What about you?”
