“Wait. I, uh, guess I kind of love you, too,” he confessed.
She gave him a brisk nod and tried not to blink. “Cool.”
“Yeah. Cool.”
Some joker rang the doorbell, and the gothic organ music made them both laugh. He held out his hand, and she accepted it. “Let’s go.”
Things were going to change when she stepped out on that porch, and she was suddenly ready to take the plunge. With a fond backward glance at the photo on the mantel, Maggie stepped into her future.
Dean met her on the porch. A bow-tied Kevin sat at his feet, basking in the attention.
The cheer that went up from the men and women assembled in front of the house was deafening. Dean had hired a local film crew to help, since it was a big shoot with so many moving parts. Two camera people buzzed around, shooting different angles.
“You ready?” Dean asked her.
“Yeah. I am.”
The waitstaff marched out, trays of champagne held aloft. Maggie accepted a glass and only then did she let her gaze roam the crowd.
She found Silas immediately. She always would. Because there was something that connected her to the tall, handsome landscaper staring at her. And she just had to accept it. She felt the buzz between them. The frustration. The need. The hurt. The way he looked like he was ready to devour her. The way she felt ready to be devoured.
“That’s everyone,” the head server whispered to Maggie as they headed back into the house with empty trays.
She smiled and took a breath. “This is the first community celebration in this house in decades,” she began. “It’s not going to be the last. And that’s because of each and every one of you. Thank you for every hour, every drop of sweat, every effort you gave to uncover this hidden gem. You took rubble and ruin and made it into treasure.”
Several someones in the crowd whooped.
“We’re awesome!”
She laughed and raised her glass. “To the Old Campbell Place. May its future be even more storied than its past.”
The men and women assembled—the painters and plaster workers, the landscapers and plumbers—raised their glasses. But she only saw Silas, that dangerous half-smile playing on his lips.
“Cheers!” the crowd roared.
“Now let’s get ready to party!” she yelled over the celebration.
He didn’t come to her in the ensuing chaos as close to fifty tradespeople dispersed to show off the work they’d done to their families. And she didn’t seek him out either. But she got the sense that they both knew it was inevitable.
Maggie was swept into a conversation with Kayla and two of Cody’s teachers and then was handed off to Jim to meet Mrs. Jim. It went on like that for at least an hour until Dean waved her into the sunporch. “This is Jeanie Lacruz from Atwood Publishing.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Maggie said, shaking the woman’s offered hand.
“The pleasure is mine. I hope you don’t mind me practically crashing your party,” Jeanie said.
“The more, the merrier,” Maggie told her, scanning the terrace, looking for Silas. She found him in conversation with his dads and Roy from the plant.
“I must confess. I come with ulterior motives. My company is the one that holds the publishing rights to A. Campbell’s books. They’ve been experiencing a revival of sorts because of you. The town is going to be very happy with the royalties for the last quarter,” she predicted.
“That’s good to hear.”
“Have you ever considered writing a book?”
Maggie blinked. “A book?”
“You have an innate talent for discovering and showcasing potential. Atwood Publishing does plenty of nonfiction titles a year. I’m confident we could find a market for a design book by Maggie Nichols.”
“I’ll let you two talk,” Dean said, bowing out politely.
Behind Jeanie’s back, he mimed a freak-out.
“That’s an interesting proposition, Jeanie,” Maggie confessed, doing her best to keep a straight face. “And I think I’ve got something else that might make your night.”
Ten minutes later, her head was still spinning when Dayana approached. “Don’t hate me,” she said.
“Oh God. Did Keaton flush another action figure? Did you try the plunger?”
“It’s not a plumbing problem. It’s Dad.”
Maggie frowned. “Is he okay?”
“He’s here.”
“Here?” Maggie parroted. “As in Kinship?”