“I love you.”
His lips twitch. “Love you, too, Whiskey.”
“Now go to work. The cows aren’t going to feed themselves.”
He grumbles, but pushes through the front door.
I adjust my robe before tucking loose strands behind my ear. Grabbing the coffeepot, I step outside and move to the patrol car waiting in my driveway. I’m aware I’m completely bare beneath my robe, but the officer on babysitting duty deserves coffee. Especially if he heard our morning activities.
Officer Ryan rolls down his window. “Morning, Wren.”
“Morning. Brought you some coffee.”
Ryan gives me a grateful nod, offering his travel mug through the open window. With an arm across my chest, securing my robe, I pour the coffee.
“Quiet night?”
He nods. “Bruggeman said everything was good. What’s your day look like?”
“I’ll be home most of the day. Catching up on laundry and cleaning.” Heat crawls up my neck at the reminder of why my kitchen counters need scrubbing. “Then, I’m meeting the contractor at the barn on the west end of the property.”
He nods. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”
“Feel free to come in for coffee or bathroom breaks.”
Inside, I clean like I’m trying to scrub the last few weeks away. Never underestimate the power of a good stress-cleaning session. The weight of the last few weeks threatens to crumble me, but I keep fighting. I didn’t make it this far to let Elias ruin what I’ve started rebuilding.
With a glance at my watch, I toss the rag in the washer, gathering up my bag with my notebook and heading to my meeting.
I let out a deep whistle as I glance around the old barn that’s looking more alive than it has in decades. Sunlight pours through the open doors as dust motes and sawdust float in a majestic dance.
“You’ve been busy.”
Tom’s head jerks from where he’s staring at a stack of papers.
“This barn has been taken care of well. Makes my job easier.”
I trail my fingers along one of the exposed beams, the wood smooth from decades of wear. I can almost picture my mom leading the charge on the remodel. Worn leather boots caked in mud from her garden. Dad’s flannel shirt hanging loosely off her shoulders. A sun hat perched on her head while she jotted down detailed notes in one of her many notebooks.
But instead of my mom, I’m the one seeing through to her dream.
In a way, it’s freeing. It’s showing me a side of myself I didn’t know existed. I feel closer to her than I have in a long time.
Tom walks me through it all again, slower this time since the barn has been cleared and roughed out for new walls.
The plumbing has been updated to allow for new bathrooms. Separate bathrooms for males and females with multiple stalls, with one being ADA-compliant. Concrete is scheduled to be poured by the end of the week.
Electrical has been installed, running along the beams for the new lighting.
“Everything’s moving fast.”
Tom nods. “I’ve got most of my men on the project.” He knocks on a beam. “Knock on wood, we’ll have this barn done sooner than anticipated.”
My stomach twists at how quickly everything is falling into place. My mind starts spinning with all the things I need to be doing now, like creating a social media account to document the remodel and ads to promote the new event hall. Social media scares the hell out of me. I haven’t touched mine since I left LA. The show has interns who help run our accounts, and I assume she’s been posting in my absence, keeping my disappearance under wraps. The social media account is essential for getting the word out about the venue. In a small town, halls are few and far between, which means this will be a hot commodity.
We continue to go over the details of the remodel and the timeline when everything will take place. Tom wasn’t kidding when he said this place will be done in no time.
“There’s one thing I need your approval on,” he says, pulling out samples from a bag.
