The reply came faster than he expected.
Perfect. See you then.
“Dad?” Eli’s voice pulled Noah’s attention back to the present. “The sink’s making funny noises again.”
Sure enough, a gurgling sound emerged from the pipes, followed by an ominous clunk. Noah pinched the bridge of his nose, counting backward from ten.
“It’ll be okay,” Eli said, in what Noah recognized as an imitation of his own reassuring tone. “Tommy told me a man named Luke fixed their treehouse last summer. He can probably fix our sink if you don’t want to call Mr. Martinez.”
Noah glanced at his phone, at Luke’s simple response waiting on the screen. Everyone really did know everyone else here, even the kids. Noah didn’t bother explaining to his son that there were different types of professionals for various tasks. That would derail their evening with a million questions from the curious boy. “Yeah, maybe he can.”
He spent the evening helping Eli with homework over pizza he’d picked up on his way home from the laundromat and trying not to think about tomorrow. About letting a stranger—no, a stranger would be far better than Luke—see how far in over his head he really was.
But as he tucked Eli into bed that night, surrounded by the creaks and groans of their aging house, Noah reminded himself why they were back in Maple Hill. Not only for a fresh startbut for roots. Community. The kind of stability that came from knowing your neighbors, from letting people in.
Even if that meant admitting you couldn’t fix everything yourself.
CHAPTER THREE
Luke pulledup to the curb in front of Noah Thompson’s house, letting out a low whistle. He didn’t get over to this side of town as often as he used to, but everyone in Maple Hill knew of this house. Rachel’s photos hadn’t done justice to the faded grandeur of the old home in the historic district.
Late afternoon sun cast shadows across peeling paint and warped siding, most of which had rotted over the years. His heart ached as he took in the ornate trim. It had been neglected long enough there was no way of salvaging it. His fingers itched to run along those architectural details, to feel the story in each groove and curve.
“What did they do to you, beautiful?” he murmured, grabbing his small tool kit from the passenger seat. While he didn’t plan on doing anything tonight, it was easier to be prepared in case he spotted any easy fixes.
The house had good bones—he could see that even from here. But someone had slapped cheap fixes on top of serious problems, creating a patchwork of poor decisions that would take serious time and money to undo. Still, it was majestic, withstrong columns supporting the roof of the front porch, and he was as captivated by the turret on one corner as he’d been when he was younger.
Movement caught his eye—a small face pressed against the glass in the turret he’d been staring at, there and gone like an apparition. Must be Noah’s kid. Or it was the ghost of someone who’d lived here when the house was new, standing guard to see who dared enter.
Okay, maybe Luke watched too many paranormal investigator shows on TV, but it was sort of cool to think about it being a possibility. Then again, if spirits were guarding the house, whoever had tried “fixing” it wouldn’t have gotten away with half of what they had.
Luke checked his reflection in the side mirror, adjusting his plain gray T-shirt and running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. First impressions mattered, even if this was just a favor for Rachel. He hadn’t forgotten the way Noah used to scowl at him, as if his mere presence had offended him in some way. He needed Noah to realize he was not only competent but damned good at what he did.
Luke noted the way the concrete steps dipped to the left and how the railing in the center wobbled. He shook his head at the peeling paint on the steps. If someone hit those just right in the rain or snow, they’d tumble and crack their head open. There was no way in hell an inspector had gone through the house before Noah bought it.
Before he could knock, the heavy wooden door swung open. Noah stood in the entrance, wearing a dress shirt and tie with the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that suggested he might not be completely hopeless with physical labor. Time had beenkind to him—he’d grown into those serious features that caught Luke’s attention back in high school when he’d been too young and too obvious with his attention toward his sisters’ friend.
“Luke.” Noah’s greeting was polite but reserved, exactly what Luke would have expected from the guy who’d spent high school with his nose buried in books. “Thanks for coming by.”
“No problem.” Luke shifted his weight, hyperaware of how the old porch boards shifted beneath him. “Though I should warn you, this beauty’s going to need more than a Band-Aid.”
Noah’s expression tightened. “You haven’t even looked at anything yet.”
“Don’t need to.” Luke toed out of his boots, lining them next to the others inside the door at Noah’s urging. He didn’t typically make a habit of walking around clients’ homes in his stocking feet, but this was already proving to be anything but normal. “Those columns are original to the house. Beautiful craftsmanship, but I’d be willing to bet every one of them is rotted. Previous owners or whoever was trying to sell the place probably painted over the damage instead of addressing the real issue. If you’re lucky, I’m wrong, and it’s just a façade they wrapped around the originals.”
“Dad!” A blur of motion and primary colors burst through the door. “Is this the fix-it guy? Tommy says you fixed their treehouse! Can you fix my treehouse too? I mean, I don’t have one yet, but maybe after you fix the house?—”
“Eli.” Noah’s tone carried a warning, but his expression softened as he looked at his son. “Let Mr. Garrett come inside before you start planning construction projects.”
“Luke,” Luke corrected automatically, dropping to one knee to be at eye level with the kid. “Mr. Garrett’s my dad. And you must be the famous Eli. Livy’s told me all about you.”
Luke knew the quickest way to gain a kid’s trust was by relating to them. Not only did parents insisting their kids refer to him as Mister anything make him twitch, but dropping his niece’s name was a surefire way to show Eli he was a good guy. Then again, Luke got the impression all it would take to impress Eli was fixing the house.
Yeah, mentioning Livy was definitely the way to go in this case.
Eli’s eyes widened. “Really? Did she tell you about my science project? I made a volcano, and it actually exploded! Well, not really exploded, but there was lots of foam and?—”
“Homework,” Noah interrupted. “Remember?”
