“Is it that obvious?” The stranger turned his dark brown eyes to me again and I felt myself melting beneath their gaze. I returned a soft smile, noticing that the temples of his wavy, dark brown hair were slightly gray. Which left me realizing that he was older than I originally thought, but a lot of men grayed earlier due to stress or life in general. Hell, there was a girl in my high school that started getting gray hair at sixteen. I always had a thing for the George Clooney type anyway.

“You do seem a little lost. But I’ve put together a few arrangements in my time. What occasion are they for?” I asked as I skimmed across the display. I knew the flowers were local and there was a wide array of choices, but I’d always been drawn to seasonal arrangements.

“Dinner.” He’d said it without a second thought, which effectively poured cold water over my entire body. Of course, a man like him would be taken. It was stupid to think otherwise. He was the most attractive man I’d ever seen in Ashfield or New York for that matter. He almost had a familiarity about him, but I couldn’t place it. Not that it would matter now. He was buying flowers for his date or girlfriend. I’d already searched for a wedding band and found him lacking. At least I was able to narrow that down. I wasn’t a homewrecker like my ex.

Wordlessly, I grabbed the display I thought was the most beautiful. And was probably the most expensive, but by the watch he wore and the name brand sunglasses dangling from the collar of his crewneck, I knew that he most likely had the money to spend.

“These. I’m sure she’ll be impressed,” I said as I not so gently shoved the cellophane wrapped bouquet at his chest. Luckily, he grabbed it as I released my hold and shifted my grocery bag into the other hand. He was too busy adjusting the flowers in his grip to notice that I’d moved past him to the exit.

“Thanks!” he called out after me, but I continued walking like I hadn’t heard him. I’d embarrassed myself enough for one day. I needed to head home before I did any more personal damage.

With regret, I stomped toward the back of the lot where I parked, wishing I’d parked closer so I could make a quicker getaway.

Finally, I made it to my car and I popped the trunk with my keys and stored the bag inside, slamming the trunk closed when I finished. I dove into the driver’s seat, heaving a deep breath once I was safe inside only to scream when a knock sounded on my window.

Twisting my head, it shocked me to find the stranger standing on the other side of my vehicle.

“Can I help you?” I asked hesitantly as I pressed the button to slide down the window.

Holding out one of the sunflowers from the bouquet, he said, “Here, to thank you for your help.”

There was no way he could know that sunflowers were my favorite and as much as I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t necessary, I reached out to grab the stem, making sure our fingers didn’t touch in the process.

“Thank you.”

“Maybe I’ll see you soon?”

I sure hoped not.

“It is a small town.”

The man laughed as he stepped back and the window ascended. I gently laid the sunflower on my passenger seat before exiting the parking lot.

I told myself not to look back, to forget the interaction, but the pitter-patter of my heart forced my eyes to the rearview mirror where I saw him standing beside an oversized black truck with one hand tucked in his jeans pockets and the other grasping the arrangement and a bakery box at his hips. He had the same smirk on his lips while his head shook side to side like a boat on the ocean.

I really was going to have to find a way out of this town sooner rather than later.

On the drive back to my family’s ranch, I forced myself to forget about the man in the store. Instead, I focused on my sisters. I was excited to spend time with them again. We rarely saw each other in the years since I’d moved away. They only visited New York once and never returned, saying it was too jarring for them. And I understood, but it still hurt knowing that they couldn’t appreciate the place I loved.

After that visit, I came home on the occasional weekend and for birthdays. Holidays were always iffy, and that was when my job hadn’t scheduled us for an event. I was also a workaholic, spending more time on jobs than in my own apartment.

My sisters and I did make a point to video call weekly and there was a group chat where we messaged each other constantly.

I’d never admitted to them how much I’d missed them in the previous years.

But now we had time to make up for it.

Then Rory’s words flitted through my mind. The barn on the west field of my parents’ farm was old and decrepit, just like the house I loved so much, but I saw the potential.

Hell, I saw the potential in every trainwreck I came across. Mom said I was a fixer. I wanted to fix every person, place, or thing. And I could do it too, in most cases. I’d helped reconstruct houses with charity and fix up a community garden in the city. People fixing, I hadn’t quite got right. I tended to make someone better. . .for the next person that came along.

Bringing the west field barn back to life was an idea that I’d had in high school – my backup plan. I had a vision of fixing it up and making it less rustic than what was expected and enclosing it all. We’d have to add a kitchen and bring it up to standard fire codes, but all of that was doable. The problem was getting my father’s approval. He cared for change about as much as I wanted to go crawling back to my ex, Max. The cheating bastard.

But what if he agreed? What if he said yes?

I could see my sisters and me working on the project together. That had always been the subplot to my journey into that brainchild. There were so many things that they were good at and I could see each of them excelling at them. Alex could do all things with beverages and food. Everyone loved Rory and she had a knack for people and could easily convince potential clients to use the space and see the overall vision. And Aspen, though young, knew all of our family’s history. That would absolutely be part of the experience of the space. And I would be the planner and overseer.

It all played out in my mind like a movie. I could see it clearer than daylight.

Unfortunately for me, things never seemed to work out the way that I wanted.

On instinct, I let off the gas and the car slowed down. I was coming up on the turn in the road where my dream house resided. There was no one behind me as I got closer and I pulled to a stop to take it all in again.

She stood majestically at the top of a hill overlooking the large span of acres below. The once light tan hued brick was now an ashen gray, weathered by the heat and sun of summer and the cold, brutal winters. Her roof dawned large blue tarps placed there by my father. Most of her shutters had been removed. The majority lost or broken during storms. I’d seen pictures where they were a darker color, probably black, in contrast to the weathered brick exterior walls. But I always envisioned them as a royal blue.

Her porches had seen better days, though my dad assured us they were solid, just needed some tender loving care. The entire house needed it.

And I wanted to be the one to give it to her.

The inside was barren, a few sheets draped over the antique mantles surrounding the fireplaces, and across the counters in the kitchen and butler’s pantry. When we were younger my sisters and I used to sneak up to the back windows and look inside, but my father put a kibosh on that by having a cop come by and scare the piss out of us. Literally, Aspen peed her pants she was so petrified. She’d only been five at the time, but we still pick on her for it.

“I’m going to figure out how to save you, pretty girl,” I said in my car speaking to the house.

There had to be a way to get in touch with the owners. But I know my father had tried in the past to no avail. It seemed like a hopeless cause.

“I’ll be back,” I said as a goodbye and moved my car down the road again.

Pulling up to the ranch, I noted a few things that needed some fixing up around the entrance. The sign needed a fresh coat of paint and the stone columns desperately needed to be pressure washed. All things I could do for my dad while I stayed at the farm.

I parked my car along the side of the house, in the same spot I used to when I was in high school. It all felt so familiar and strange at the same time. Almost like déjà vu, except I knew that I’d experienced it.

I was going to walk up to the house and it was going to wrap me in its comforting arms like a warm hug and I’ll remember how much I love that part of being home. Each time I stepped over that threshold, it made it that much harder to want to leave. I’d forget how much I wanted to be something more than one of the Easterly daughters.

There was more for me out there.

Right?

Chapter Four - Autumn

“Hey, Daddy,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen and wrapped my arms around my father’s neck. It wasn’t often we found him in the house during the day, but since he’d reached retirement age, my mother pressed him to take weekends off. She knew his heart lay in the fields and it was always going to be his first love, but she pleaded with him to take some time to relax on the weekends. She wanted to spend more time with him.

It was sweet when I thought about it.

They were always affectionate around us when we were growing up. It used to gross us all out, but now I realize how special that was. It was what I wanted for myself and thought I’d had.

“Hi, darlin’. Have a good time in town?”

Setting the bags on the kitchen counter, I went in search of a small vase to place the dwarf sunflower in.