“I want this place to feel like home again,” she says, voice soft but steady. “Not just for Emmy. For me too.”
I nod, feeling something settle deep in my chest. “Then let’s bring it back. The way it was. Better, even.”
She reaches across the space between us and rests her hand on mine. “Together?”
“Always.”
The next morning, we’re up before the sun. There’s too much work to do and none of us want to waste the momentum we’ve built.
Harper shows up in ripped jeans and an old ballcap, sleeves rolled high like she means business. Emmy’s trailing behind her with a plastic bucket and a determined look that’s pure Avery. The kid’s ready to work, and no one’s telling her otherwise.
We start with the barn. Dust thick enough to write your name in clings to every surface, and the scent of hay and old memories hangs heavy in the rafters.
I climb into the loft while Avery and Harper tackle the tack room below, reorganizing old bridles and saddles with a surprising amount of gusto.
Emmy’s got a little broom and she’s sweeping near the stalls with a concentration that makes me grin. “You’re hired,” I tell her.
“I want five dollars,” she says seriously.
I glance at Avery, who laughs. “She drives a hard bargain.”
After the barn, we move to the chicken coop. It’s been overrun with cobwebs and a few angry hens, but Harper’s not afraid to throw open the door and start tossing out old feed sacks. Emmy sticks close to her, wearing gloves three sizes too big and chattering about how she wants to name all the chickens.
“Especially that one,” she points to the meanest hen. “That’s Priscilla. She’s spicy.”
Avery wipes sweat from her brow, watching her daughter with a fond, tired smile. “She’s definitely mine.”
By midday, we break for sandwiches on the porch. The siding on the house is nearly finished, white boards with bold black trim that make it look straight out of a magazine farm style. The only thing left is thestonework, stacked neatly in pallets beside the driveway, waiting to be installed.
I lean back against the railing, sandwich in one hand, watching Avery glance over the place like she’s seeing it through new eyes.
“When the house is done,” she says, “we’ll finish the inside. Then move on to the bunkhouses and finish the barns right.”
I nod. “One thing at a time. But we’re getting there.”
She turns to me, eyes glowing with that mix of exhaustion and satisfaction that only a day of honest work can bring. “You think my dad would’ve liked what we’re doing?” I ask, my voice quieter than I expected.
My throat tightens a little as I watch Avery glance around, her fingers still curled around the sandwich crust.
I stood next to Jack on that hill, sweaty and tired, covered in dirt and paint, but proud. We took evening rides a lot growing up. Those memories hit hard now, sharper than I thought they would. I feel the weight of carrying on his dream, for her, for Emmy, for all of us.
I look out across the land, the bright siding, the half-cleared barnyard, the brilliant flower boxes andlandscaping around the house “Yeah. I think he’d be damn proud.”
We’re sitting on the porch, Emmy nibbling on some gummy bears, when the sound of tires crunching over gravel pulls all our attention toward the drive.
A dusty blue SUV rolls up, its engine rattling to a stop before the door swings open. And out steps Carol Whitaker, the neighborhood’s self-appointed welcome committee, gossip queen, and professional meddler.
She adjusts her oversized sunglasses, even though the sun’s nearly behind the house, and waves like she’s just caught us returning from church. “Well, well. Look at this crew. Didn’t know the Blake Ranch had a full-blown renovation underway.”
Harper mutters, “Brace yourselves,” and stands with her hands on her hips.
Carol’s eyes take in everything, the scaffolding, the siding, the stack of stone, the muddy boots lined up by the porch steps. Her smile stretches, tight as her hairspray. “and Cash,” she says, stepping toward me. “haven't see you for awhile”
I shake her hand, firm and quick. “Ma’am.”
“Avery,” she turns, practically buzzing with curiosity. “Jack would’ve never believed it. You back here,turning this place around. Makes for quite the glorious return.”
Avery lifts her chin. “Nice to see you, Carol.”
