“No buts about it. And you just landed your dream gallery job. I’ll leave you with that little morsel of truth. Night, love you.”
“You too.”
Dahlia hung up feeling taller, braver, and stronger, remembering her early days as a young, single mother and how each day brought its own unique challenges. And how determined she was to build a loving home for Daisy despite the insurmountable roadblocks.
I am Dahlia Fucking Newberry.She looked into Lil’s mirror in her simple tank top and sleeping shorts.I get things done, and I figure shit out.“Everything is figureoutable,” she whispered, looking closer at her summer freckles and aging forehead. Well, maybenot everything. If she was going to embrace this new season, she’d have to up her beauty game. She waggled her eyebrows a few times and added wrinkle cream to her mental list.
Then, against her better judgment, she searched “NoahHamptons House.”
She scrolled through the countless profile images. He was definitely the same man she’d seen on the motorcycle. And he was everywhere.
Then shirtless ones popped up. Oh, boy. His wavy hair tousled to the side, sparse mustache, and chiseled abs made her mouth moist and her insides tingle.
“That’s enough of that.” Abruptly, she closed the tab. She didn’t need to be thinking about boys right now. That’s what got her into trouble in the first place. A new email from the gallery sat in her inbox. She inhaled through her nose and out through her mouth and opened it.
Dahlia,
I know you spoke briefly with HR, but I wanted to congratulate you personally on securing the Chief Curator position at the Whitmore Gallery. The pool of candidates was impressive, but your six years at MoMA, along with your positive team attitude and references, won us over. I know we’d originally given you an early September start date, but our new exhibits start in September and run through November. Because it’s imperative that you are here early, your start date is August 5. Please confirm.
Best,
Christine Smyth
Dahlia grinned. It felt good to be wanted and needed. All those years of sacrifice, taking the graveyard shift at the ambulancedispatch to get her degree, and earning her MFA while Daisy was in middle school.
But soon her grin soured. They wanted her to start inone month. How in the world would she pull all of this off in a month? And without help?
Not only did she have a house to fix, but now she needed to find a key that held a secret that could change everything. She rested her head on the pillow. Tomorrow would be better; it had to be.
CHAPTER FOUR
July 2
Dahlia couldn’t remember the last time she slept in. The cool top sheet clung to her legs. The birds’ sweet chorus played outside her window, and she could hear the sailboat masts echo in the distance. The breeze billowed through the open windows. It was exactly what she needed after yesterday’s unexpected revelations.
She fought every urge to move from this spot and greet the day. Remaining in Lil’s bed just a few minutes longer meant she didn’t have to cross anything off her now lengthy to-do list just yet. There was such peace here. Dahlia was beginning to understand why Lil had fought so hard to stay here, even when she no longer had her independence.
A few more minutes, then Dahlia would grab coffee. She’d have it on the sleeping porch and watch the sailboats. She’d always wanted to do that.
BANG! BANG! BANG! SCREEEEEECH!
Dahlia hurled forward, ripping the eye mask from her face. “What the hell?” She tossed the covers aside. Who had the audacity to run a saw at 7:57 in the morning on a Saturday—on a holiday weekend, no less?
Her feet hit the cold floor, and so did Harry’s, looking for action. She could feel her cheeks grow warmer with each nanosecond that passed. Harry bolted down the old, narrow staircase first, followed by Dahlia.
Out the back door, she followed the sound, which appeared to be coming from the barn. No one was supposed to be using it but her this summer.
Dahlia charged into the barn. She didn’t know what she’d find, and she didn’t care. After yesterday, she wasn’t in the mood to play nice. She stumbled through the door only to be met with a haze of dust particles that burned her eyes and made her cough.
“It’s eight o’clock in the morning!” she yelled over the noise. She could barely hear herself over the table saw. “Stop it!” The screech suddenly stopped. Her ears rang as she watched the man slowly remove his goggles and the handkerchief over his mouth.
Oh, God—it was him. Noah Sterling from Hamptons House. He was so much taller up close. She stood motionless, staring at the man who was now petting her dog. She glared at Harry.Traitor.
Seconds felt like long minutes. She was braless, standing before Noah Sterling in nothing but a tank top and undershorts, her nipples like headlights on a foggy night. She tried to cover herself with her hands and, despite knowing exactly who he was, blurted, “Who the hell are you? And why are you in my barn?”
He straightened his posture, his broad chest straining the buttons on his flannel. A puzzled look flashed across his dirty face. “Me?” he asked. “What areyoudoing inmybarn?”
Dahlia shook her head. “This is my Aunt Lil’s barn.” And now it was hers.“No one is supposed to use it but myself, Bruce, and Garrett—and they’re away for the summer. You’re trespassing on her property.” Her armpits started to sweat, and other parts too.
