Speaking of rapid growth, Maggie’s following had continued to explode in the last few weeks as the Old Campbell Place took shape in each progressive episode. Bitterroot’s phone rang constantly with potential clients calling all the way from the Boise suburbs and even across the Oregon border.
Niri and Kayla were thrilled with the interest in the Mercantile, and the whole town seemed to be enjoying an uptick in tourism for the summer.
Life was good. Mostly.
Silas and Maggie spent every night wrapped up in each other, more often than not at her place. Without either of them acknowledging it, she’d made space in her closet for him, and he’d filled it.
The second bay of the garage now held tables of neatly organized tools for both their trades. On clear nights, they’d share beers on the terrace. If it rained, they read A. Campbell novels in companionable silence. He’d been able to talk her into an afternoon on the lake, and they’d even squeezed in another hike and picnic. Then there was the brunch with his family, which Dean attended as Michael’s official boyfriend.
His lips quirked as he remembered Mama B’s response to Michael’s announcement. “Honey, it’s about damn time.”
As the clock ticked down, days drawing nearer to August and the big reveal party, Silas felt the weight that pressed down on Maggie.
There was still much to be done. Small things. Hundreds of them. Not to mention the kitchen was still an unfinished nightmare of one step forward, two steps back. It was nearing completion through the sheer will of Jim and Maggie.
She was doing what she did best, obsessing over tasks and internalizing the stress of the looming deadline.
Silas hopped off the mower and admired the precisely cut lawn. Except for the fountain—with the new pump on back order—and the maintenance, Bitterroot’s work was done here at the Old Campbell Place. The acres on the bluff were now a showcase of natural beauty. Tamed and structured in some areas, like the rose garden and retaining wall. Wild and natural in others, like the grassy bluff trails and beds of wildflowers.
His crew had been divvied up and sent off to new, smaller job sites, where they created beautiful solutions for other homeowners. But they were all counting down to the day of the party, when they could show off their hard work to their families and let loose with friends.
A bloodcurdling scream came from the direction of the house and had Silas glancing up at the blue Idaho sky, asking for patience before heading inside. As suspected, it was Keaton, who had entered an unfortunate screaming phase.
“Perfectly normal part of development,” Blaire had insisted when Silas mentioned it. “He’s just exploring new ways of feeling important. It’ll pass.”
Silas had gifted Maggie a pair of noise-canceling headphones to get her through the phase.
He heard another sound. A distinct, horrified “What the fuck” coming from upstairs. He followed the commotion and found Maggie in a sitting room at the back of the house on the second floor, staring in silent rage at the gaping hole in the ceiling.
“What in the hell happened?” he demanded.
“Pipe burst in the bathroom upstairs,” Jim said, eyeing the mess of wet plaster on carpet that had been installed only a week ago.
Maggie’s eye twitched, and she held two fingers to it.
Uh-oh.
“I don’t need to tell you that this is gonna push us back a bit. Couple of days at least for the plumbers, plasterwork, painters, new carpet,” Jim said to her, scratching his head, blissfully unaware of the pot that was about to boil over.
“Mags, I need you to take a call with Columbus Paints,” Dean said, poking his head into the room. “Holy shit! What happened in here?”
“Pipe burst,” Jim said again.
Maggie’s eye twitched again.
“Didn’t you just lay that carpet?” Dean asked, not noticing that Maggie still hadn’t said a word yet. “Never mind. Anyway, I’ve got a call scheduled at three. They didn’t like the lighting in the dining room episode. They felt like the paint color looked off. They want you to shoot something else in the room with different lighting. Also, they want you to repaint the downstairs den in their new Barn Owl Gray.”
From somewhere in the house, Keaton let out another bloodcurdling scream, and Silas wondered if Maggie felt like doing the same thing.
He saw the clench of her jaw and backed out of the room. Figuring he had a window of about ten minutes, he jogged into the still unfinished kitchen, grabbed the sandwich fixings, and went to work. The lower cabinets had been installed and painted. There was a delay—shocker—with the countertops though, so they’d been living with plywood surfaces.