They sat at the rickety kitchen table with Kara, running numbers.
“The asking price is here,” Kara said, pointing at the tablet. “But based on days on market and the inspections we’ve seen so far, we might be able to come in a little under. You’ll need to factor in immediate repairs; roof work within the next five years, some electrical updates, cosmetic stuff.”
Bree thought about her accountant’s voice: calm and practical. About the tightened margins on the warehouse if the board dragged their feet. About the way her chest had opened up while walking through the house and barn.
“We can do it,” Hank said. “If we’re smart. Cut back on some non-essentials this year. Eat more frozen pizza and less restaurant sushi.”
“You don’t like sushi,” she said.
“I was trying to sound sophisticated,” he replied.
She studied the line labeled monthly payment. It was a lot. And also… not insurmountable. Not compared to what her old rent had been in the city for a shoebox with mystery stains.
“When do you have to decide?” Kara asked. “The sellers are motivated; they’ve already relocated upstate. They’d like an offer sooner rather than later, but they’re not in full panic mode yet. If you want this, we can put in an offer tonight with a financing contingency and an inspection clause. You’ll have outs if the house turns out to be secretly infested with raccoons.”
“Is that a thing here?” Hank asked.
“Only on Tuesdays,” Kara deadpanned.
Bree met Hank’s eyes across the table.
“We’re already in deep with the warehouse,” she said. “We’ve got the board hearing in two weeks. We’re talking about taking on a mortgage on top of construction loans, permits, insurance…”
“I know,” he said. “If it’s too much, we walk away. We keep looking.”
Her old self, the one who’d frozen after Bryn, would have seized that out like a lifeline. This is too big. Too risky. Stay small.
The one sitting here now thought about waking up in that quiet bedroom with light spilling across the floor. Driving fifteen minutes into town to unlock her studio door and breathe in paint and coffee and engine oil. Walking out to the barn on weekends, Hank’s laugh echoing off the rafters.
Fear sat alongside something else. Desire, simple and clear.
“I don’t want to walk away,” she said softly.
Hank’s hand curled around hers on the table, warm and steady.
“Then we don’t,” he said.
She sucked in a breath. “Let’s do it,” she said to Kara. “Make the offer. We can negotiate, but… yeah. We want this.”
Kara smiled, tapping quickly on her tablet. “I’ll get the paperwork started,” she said. “You’ll have a dozen things to sign by tonight. Tell your wrists I’m sorry.”
They were halfway back to town when Bree’s phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen. A text from Liz.
Just read Charlie’s letter. It wrecked me in the best way. Thank you for asking him. Board packet goes out tomorrow. You two ready to charm some bureaucrats?
She swallowed past a lump, typing back.
We’ll bring cookies if we have to. Thanks for fighting for us.
Hank’s phone buzzed. His brows furrowed, then rose, creating arches above his eyes. He turned his phone to her.
Vendor from test day’s on a bus out of Copper Moon for now. We’ve tied his shell company to three other tracks. You kicked a hornet’s nest, but you’re not standing there alone. Keep building your life. We’ll keep closing the net.
She stared at the words.
“They’re making progress. She says we kicked a hornet’s nest.”
