Reluctantly, I call it a night once my mom is ready to fall over and I can no longer properly operate the saw without trembling.
“That was so much fun!” She wraps her sweaty, sawdust-sprinkled arms around me. “Thank you for including me.”
I hug her back, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt. “It was nice to have your help.”
“You can ask me anytime.” She looks up at me with glassy eyes. “If only your father were here with us. He would have loved nothing more than to help you create something special for Dahlia.”
My lungs stall.
She untangles herself from my arms and reaches for one of my dad’s old tools with a shaky hand.
“I’m glad you’re using these.”
I can’t speak, let alone breathe.
“He would have wanted you to have them.”
I clench my hands to stop them from trembling.
She follows the movement before glancing back at me. “He planned on passing them down to you once you graduated…”
But he never had a chance.
“I know he is watching us and wishing he wasn’t the reason you never graduated from Stanford.” Her breath catches. “But I also know he would have been so incredibly proud of you for stepping up and taking care of me and his business. You accomplished more than we ever dreamed of in such a short amount of time.”
My heart lodges itself somewhere in my tight throat.
She unclenches my fist before wrapping my fingers around the handle of the hammer. “Te quiero con todo, mi corazón.”
After one last kiss on my cheek, my mom leaves the shed, giving me the space I desperately need.
I hold my father’s hammer with misty eyes.
Te extra?o mucho, Papi.
I head toward the back wall and return the hammer where it belongs. The lights above me flicker twice, and goose bumps spread across my arms.
Could it be…
No, Dahlia must have poisoned my mind with all her conversations about the Founder’s house ghost.
Yet despite everything I believe in, I end up speaking aloud regardless.
“Te quiero, Papi.”
Te quiero con todo, mi corazón: I love you with everything, my heart.
Te extra?o mucho, Papi: I miss you so much, Dad.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Dahlia
“What’s up with you?” Lily plucks the remote from my hand and shuts off the TV mid-episode.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because you’re not paying attention.”
I cross my arms over my PJs. “Yes, I was.”
“Yeah, right. You didn’t even flinch when the capo decapitated that guy with a machete.”
“So?”
She raises a brow. “So you always look away when they get to the gory parts.”
I release a heavy sigh that has her snapping her fingers.
“There! That’s the fifth time tonight you’ve done that.”
My head drops back against the couch.
“Does this have to do with your trip to San Francisco tomorrow?” Lily sits sideways on the couch.
“Am I that obvious?”
“A little bit.”
“I should be happy about how quickly everything is moving, but every time I think about leaving…”
“You wish you could stay?”
The pain in my chest intensifies. “Yeah, but then I feel torn between wanting my show and wishing I could live here.”
As much as I love my show and expanding my brand, I love the idea of staying in Lake Wisteria more.
Lily tucks her legs beneath her. “Why not have both?”
My eyebrows knit together. “The production company is based out of California.”
“So? Lots of shows are filmed in other states and countries. I’m sure they could make some changes to make both sides happy.”
I scoff. “I’m not exactly in the position to be making demands.” After my former production company pulled out of the deal, the last thing I want to do is upset Archer by making changes to the original plan.
“You could at least ask and see what they say.”
“But—”
Lily doesn’t let me finish my train of thought. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“They tell me to get lost?”
Her chin lifts as she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Then they’re not worth your time and energy.” She grabs my phone off the coffee table and tosses it on my lap. “Call your agent.”
I stare at the dark screen.
“Do it. Do it. Do it,” Lily chants.
But what if Archer Media says no and pulls out of the project? The nagging voice in my head speaks up.
After everything Julian has done to show he cares about me, including offering to move to California, the least I can do is take a risk and ask a question.
I unlock my phone. “Screw it.”
Lily watches as I pull up my agent’s contact information and give her a call.
“Dahlia! What’s going on?”
I clear my throat. “I’ve been thinking about something, and I wanted to run it by you before our meeting.”
“What is it?”
My heart thumps wildly in my chest. “Do you think Archer would be willing to change filming locations?”
“To where?”
“Lake Wisteria.”
Lily shoots me a thumbs-up.
I continue, “They have tons of historic houses here, so the content would be the same, but I would be able to move back home.”
Jamie pauses for a moment, and my lungs stop working in anticipation.
“I don’t know. That wasn’t part of the original pitch, and they already have crews set up in San Francisco for their other shows, so there is a high chance they’ll say no.”
My excitement dies. “Oh. I understand.”
“That being said, let me see what I can do.”
“You’ll ask?” My pitch rises.
“Yes, but I can’t guarantee they will say yes.”
Excitement replaces the dreadful worry that was choking me. “Would it help for me to take some videos of the properties around here? Maybe show them a few projects I’ve been working on? Lake Wisteria and the surrounding towns are full of houses begging to be restored, plus the locals would make for entertaining TV.”
“I’ll reach out to my contact and see what they have to say.”
“Thanks, Jamie! You’re the best.”
Her laugh is the last thing I hear before she hangs up.
“You did it!” Lily throws her arms around me.
I return her hug with one of my own, pouring every ounce of love and admiration I have for my sister into it.
While I had considered asking about filming a show here, I may have never worked up the courage if it weren’t for Lily pushing me to try.
Don’t get your hopes up.
Too late.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Dahlia
The heaviness in my chest that has been present since I left Lake Wisteria gets progressively worse with every hour I spend in San Francisco. I should be happy to be back in my old stomping grounds, but not even a poke bowl from my favorite spot can save me from the oppressive sadness choking me.
I expected the feeling to lessen when I entered the Archer Media building, only to be disappointed when it didn’t.
“So, what did you think?” my agent asks once the elevator doors shut. Her strawberry-blond curls frame her face like a halo, giving her a deceitfully sweet appearance that doesn’t match the woman who spent the last hour playing hardball with the people from Archer Media.