Rachel shuffled further inside and leaned against the counter like this was nothing out of the norm. Meanwhile, I hovered two feet from Rhett’s shoulder, pretending to understand what he was doing with the crowbar.
He grabbed his hammer and swung it, the sound making me flinch; metal against stubborn wood, then a groaning snap as the baseboard popped loose. Dust puffed into the air, catching the weak, clouded light. It smelled like damp plaster and something vaguely earthy, as if specks of soil had found a home in every crevice of the shop.
Rhett grunted. “You gonna stand there daydreaming or are you gonna hand me that trim puller?”
“I wasn’t daydreaming,” I lied, handing him the tool closest to my feet.
His hand stilled midair. He turned, looked at it, then at me. “This is a wrench.”
“Right. Test passed,” I said brightly, setting it back down. “Just making sure you knew.”
Rachel coughed into her fist, which sounded suspiciously similar to a laugh.
Rhett shoved his hair out of his eyes and went back to prying a new section of baseboard. “This would go faster if you didn’t hover.”
“I’m not hovering. I’m…learning.”
He shot me a look that could’ve burst another pipe.
“Fine,” I muttered, retreating half a step. “Consider me un-hovered.”
For a few minutes, the only sounds were the scrape of his tools and Rachel’s soft humming as she sorted through a box of old receipts. My hands twitched uselessly at my sides. I hated feeling like dead weight, like someone who had to be rescued from her own mess. The shop was mine now, but every slam ofRhett’s hammer reminded me that I no longer had any idea what the future looked like.
Finally, I crouched down beside him again. Anything was better than the arena of chaos in my head. “So, hypothetically… what happens if you pull something out of that wall and the whole place collapses?”
He didn’t look up. “An open-concept floor plan.”
Rachel snorted. Did Rhett Briggs just make another joke?
I grinned despite myself. “Wow, funny. Careful, Rhett, people might think you like it here.”
That earned me silence. I watched as he pulled his buzzing phone from his back pocket, glanced down, and promptly ignored the call. Rhett yanked another strip of baseboard loose and leaned back on his heels, forearm swiping sweat from his temple. His shirt clung damply to his uncharacteristically slumped shoulders. He rapidly drained the coffee and resumed his work.
A sharp pang of guilt hit my chest as he yawned for the twelfth time. I wanted to remind him that Icouldhandle it. That none of this was his responsibility—he clearly had more important things to do. But Rachel beat me to it.
“You two don’t have to do this alone, you know,” she spoke up from across the shop. “We can figure out a way to—”
Rhett cut her off with a shake of his head. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
He stood, gathering the loose boards and dumping them into a nearby bin without glancing at either of us.
I blinked and swallowed the thick lump in my throat. “Okay, well, clearly I’m just in the way.”
“Georgie,” Rachel warned.
“No, it’s fine,” I replied in a rush, though my stomach twisted.
Rhett’s jaw tightened as he appeared to chew on a potential argument. Instead, he smacked his gloves on his pants and sighed. “You’re helping with the booths, remember? Trust me—this is a one-man job.”
I know he was just being nice—no doubt scarred by my blubbering the previous day—but it warmed the layer of frosty self-reproach that had settled over my every thought.
Rachel offered a small smile as I approached. Leaning against the counter hard enough to feel the edge bruise my elbow, my eyes flicked to the shop window, where the bright midday light poured in and ignited a cloud of fine dust. This was supposed to be the part where I proved I could fix it all on my own. That I could make a success of myself in Bluebell Cove. That there was a good reason why Marigold’s was left to me.
Instead, all I’d done was confirm what I already feared: I was in over my head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rachel interrupted my thoughts. “I mean… you shouldn’t have to be dealing with planning community events when—”
“I want to,” I cut in. “It’s important to me. And this— none of this is new. It’s okay.”
