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Cam felt slightly embarrassed at her grandmother’s question, but she realized she had been so relieved to actually find someone to take the job that she hadn’t thought it through herself. Why wasn’t he booked solid like the others?

Ian didn’t seem fazed. “I’m new to town, and I don’t have a reputation, like I did back in North Carolina, though I’m happy to give you references. Besides, a lot of the projects around here aren’t the kinds of things I work on,” he said. “I’m a little picky about the jobs I take. I do historic houses, and only if the plan is to restore them to the way they should be. I don’t do all that ‘open-concept’ stuff.”

Birdie looked approving. “Have you heard of media rooms?” she asked.

“That’s exactly the kind of thing I avoid,” he said.

As Birdie and Ian chatted, Cam signed Ian’s contract and wrote him a check, wincing as she penned the amount. She would pay the rest of Ian’s fee every other week, according to his contract. The move amounted to financial gymnastics. She would need the second half of the payment for Izzy’s cookbook to finish Birdie’s house. Otherwise, Birdie would have no choice but to sell to the developers.

It made Cam nervous that her next payday depended on her “satisfactory completion” of Izzy’s cookbook to pay Ian the rest of what she would owe him. Izzy was anything but satisfied with her at the moment. Still, she had no choice, and Cam gritted her teeth and handed Ian the check. She was going to make this house of cards all work somehow.

Ian shook hands with both her and Birdie, and Cam was momentarily distracted from her worries by how warm and leathery his palm felt on hers. Like handling a fine Italian handbag.

“I won’t let you down,” he said, and Cam wished she could say the same with that kind of confidence. “I’ll get started today ordering supplies and fill out the paperwork for the permits. You can file those this afternoon at town hall, and hopefully by tomorrow I’ll get started getting this grand old lady back in shape.” He patted the wall with what looked like affection. The gesture wasn’t lost on Cam. He truly did seem to care about the place, too.

She looked at Birdie, who was beaming. “Careful who you call old,” her grandmother said teasingly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ian replied, meeting her smile with his own. “But in my book, that’s a high compliment.”

Ian drove off in his battered pickup truck, and Birdie looked pleased.

“I think I’m in good hands with that one,” she said as she watched him leave.

Cam’s thoughts about money were replaced with the fresh memory of Ian’s firm handshake, but she immediately banished the thought. She had work to do, and besides, she was leaving Silver Cove tomorrow.

“Have a seat, won’t you?” Roxy Shipman tossed her silky scarf over her shoulder and motioned to the two Windsor-style armchairs in front of her desk. “Help yourselves to some candy canes.”

Cam and Birdie dutifully plunked down like children who had been summoned to the principal’s office. Some residents of Silver Cove grumbled behind Roxy’s back that she enjoyed making anyone with business before the town jump through hoops. And while people might complain about “Red-Tape Rox,” Cam couldn’t hold it against anyone if they happened to like their i’s dotted properly. She just hoped the mayor wouldn’t bring up the holiday fete again.

Birdie handed over the permit applications, and Roxy opened a desk drawer and withdrew a pair of leopard-spotted reading glasses. She didn’t scan the pages but rather seemed to read each one in its entirety, squinting as if to look for an errant entry or a missing signature. After what felt to Cam like an eternity, Roxy looked up.

“This all seems to be in order,” she said. Cam swore she looked disappointed.

“Thanks so much, Rox,” Birdie said. “Our carpenter says we just need a permit to post at the job site. Can we get that right away? Or I could pick it up in a bit. I’m taking Cam to lunch before she leaves town.”

Roxy peered at Birdie over her glasses. “Today? I’m afraid that’s out of the question. Permits take at least three weeks to process and approve.”

Cam felt her stomach drop. Ian was supposed to start right away. She couldn’t afford to pay him for three weeks of not working, and with a delay, there was a chance he would take another job. Then who would she get to do the work? And the real cold weather was coming, fast. It wouldn’t be safe for Birdie to stay in that house. Not to mention the squirrels.

“But you just said it all looked fine!” Cam blurted out.

Roxy opened a binder on her desk and flipped it to a page titled Building Permits.

“‘Silver Cove town bylaw number 2117: Building permits will undergo a twenty-one-day period of review,’” she read. “It’s new. It was adopted at last month’s council meeting, which I am sure you attended, Birdie.”

Like her grandmother would remember that, Cam thought. She went to council meetings for the gossip and the cookies they served afterward. Cam took the binder from Roxy’s desk and scanned it. It was all written in legalese, but her eyes landed on the last sentence.

“It says right here that permits can be ‘expedited in emergency circumstances,’” Cam said, pointing to the language. Birdie patted her granddaughter’s knee with pride as if she had just won a high school debate.

Roxy looked impatient. “And how exactly does fixing your house qualify as an emergency?”

“Birdie could freeze to death in that house,” Cam said. “Do you want that on your conscience?”

Roxy took the binder back and snapped it shut. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait the mandated twenty-one-day period. That’s final. Town bylaws are town bylaws, and we must adhere to them or there would simply be chaos on the streets.”

Cam would have laughed if she hadn’t been so worked up. Anarchy in Silver Cove? This was a town where people were so polite that sometimes waiting at an intersection could take forever as drivers motioned for the other one to go first.

Even Birdie looked annoyed. “Roxy Shipman, we have known each other for well over three decades. Can’t you just make an exception for me?”