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“Oh? What kinds of things are you looking for?” He eased off his stool and came around to chat with me. “Do you have a look in mind?”

“Well, he’s going with some pretty bold design choices, so we’ll probably end up refinishing anything too plain. Unless you have anything in the mid-century modern style.”

Rocco’s face brightened and he laughed a little. “You’d better believe I do. Right this way.” He led me around the warehouse, a circuitous route through the labyrinth of furniture, until we reached the far corner, which was filled with pieces in the exact style I was looking for. I let out a low whistle as I looked around. It was a gold mine.

There were a couple dozen couches arranged as closely to one another as possible, while still leaving a tiny bit of room for customers to sit on each one. There were chairs and tables of varying heights and sizes, and so many cabinets that I could hardly believe it.

“This is awesome.”

He shrugged. “Glad to help. Now you take your time. I’ll be up front. Let me know if you need anything at all.”

I couldn’t have been more excited. I sat on each and every couch, love seat, and armchair, taking photos of my favorite and feverishly writing notes in my phone about which ones would go best with the sunset colors and which ones would be most comfortable for people waiting around to use. I found several options for the front counter, including a couple of display cases and a credenza with a hutch that might work. I truly felt like I’d hit the jackpot.

After making extensive notes, I sent Ellis photos of the top contenders and made my way back out to where Rocco sat.

“Thanks again,” I said.

“Find anything good?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “You know I did. I’m sure we’ll be back to pick out a few finalists. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re open.”

“I’ll be here,” he assured me. As I turned away, he called to me again. “Hey.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What’s up?”

“You going to be in town much longer?”

My shoulders tensed. Where was he going with this? “I’m not sure. Maybe. Why?”

“My daughter and her wife are buying a house and they’re looking to make it all snazzy. You know, it’s their first place and they want to make it their own. I don’t know, kids these days. Anyway, thought I’d ask if you’re interested in putting your talents to use for them. They’d pay you, of course. Not asking for charity. Just a little professional help.”

The tension drained from my shoulders. “You know what? Maybe. Yeah. Have them give me a call.” I jotted my number down on a sticky note Rocco handed me. “I’ll look at my schedule, and if I’m available, I’ll be happy to help.”

“Thanks. Really appreciate having you around here.”

“Thank you,” I said, leaving with warmth blooming in my chest.

I made my way to the library, preparing to do effectively the same thing I’d just done, except the inverse—picking out furniture from an already-prepared list. Once I arrived, I grabbed a hard hat from the construction trailer that was parked out front, giving me Heartland Overhaul flashbacks, and headed inside.

I spotted Olivia quickly, along with several other committee members.

“Oh, good,” Olivia said. “We’re all here. I spoke to Lena already. She’s not able to join us today. That’s okay, we’ll just have to make do without her.”

Olivia waved over one of the construction workers, the person I suspected might be the foreman, to let him know we were ready. We took a tour of the interior, which was almost completely renovated. It was clear they only had a few more days, and probably a couple of inspections, before they would start putting in carpeting and painting walls. The foreman confirmed my suspicions not long after we started. I felt weirdly comforted by my correct guesses, probably stemming from knowing I still had “it” when it came to construction sites—knowledge, understanding, a grip on pacing. Either way, I was glad when the tour was over.

After the tour, we met back at the town hall, daylight growing dimmer in the late afternoon, to finalize voting on furniture. Wall colors and carpeting had been picked out—this meeting looked like it would be the last meeting before we scheduled the grand opening.

The voting went mostly smoothly, except when Dale and I disagreed on chairs. He liked the high wingback chairs, while I recommended something with a shorter back that would be more comfortable to a wider variety of people.

“I see the appeal of those wingbacks, Dale, I really do. They’re great, and they hold up to a lot of abuse. But I think if you have shorter chairs, more people will feel comfortable staying for a longer period of time. Besides, these lower chairs have a low center of gravity. They don’t tip as easily. You don’t exactly want toddlers climbing on those high backs and toppling over, do you?”

He grumbled reluctantly, crossing his arms in front of him. “I don’t know why you care so much,” he muttered. “You’re going to leave us with the consequences of your opinions in just a few weeks.”

“I get it. I really do. I’m just trying to think of all the needs. Practicality, safety, durability. All of those things combined with the price of the lower chairs makes the choice seem like a no-brainer. Even if those wingbacks are beautiful.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“Are we good, then?” Olivia asked.