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I thought I was good, I wasready. Because Grandpa and I were always alone, just the two of us, I wanted a big family. I always wanted a family.
When I started to worry about grandpa, Harvey told me that I was exaggerating, that it couldn’t be as bad as I thought. “Your grandpa sounds fine to me,” he said, one time, over a meal. “He’s just old.”
I should’ve never listened to that jerk.
I should’ve come home months ago.
I miss my family.
I lean back in Grandpa's chair, closing my eyes and letting the tears flow freely. I'm so tired of the noise and the chaos of city life. And the infertility treatments have taken a toll on my body and my spirit.
But here in Fern Hollow, I feel a sense of peace. And now that Grandpa's left me the cabin, I have a place to escape to, a place to heal.
I wipe my tears and take a deep breath, realizing that my decision has already been made. I'll stay in Fern Hollow and start a new chapter. I'll fix up the cabin, start a garden, and write my own stories.
With Grandpa's journal as my guide, I'll embrace the simple life and honor his memory. I'll listen to the wind in the trees, the rustling of the leaves, and the chirping of the birds. I'll find solace in the quiet and the beauty of nature.
As I leave Grandpa's study, I realize I don't need a baby. I don't need a family...no matter how badly I want one. I definitely don't need a man.
I just need a home.
Chapter one
Claire
There'sonlyonerestaurantin Fern Hollow: the Snowcap Diner.
It's where everyone gathers after church on Sundays, where Grandpa used to take me for lunch after school as a kid, where all roads converge between here and the coast. It's also where I've eaten every morning, afternoon, and night for the past week as I try to figure out what to do with this cabin.
It's falling apart...and I have absolutely no skill when it comes to DIY.
I've watched the videos.Hoursof HGTV.
But I'm starting to realize I need help.
As I sit in my usual booth at the Snowcap Diner, staring at the photos of my dilapidated cabin on my phone, I can't help but overhear a group of construction workers in the booth one over. They're laughing loudly and joking around, but their talk turns serious when they start discussing a particularly difficult job they just finished. From what I can hear, it's some old cabin out in the woods - and they just flipped it for an improvement of $200k.
"I don't know how we would have gotten through that without him," says one of the workers. "He's a genius with a hammer and nails."
It's not like I have anything to lose in asking about this mysterious contractor. For God's sake,Ineed a genius to help me out. And if I'm gonna live in this cabin, I need a lot of help.
I will myself to pop over the edge of the booth and speak up, my nerves rattling in my chest. The guys don't notice me until I clear my throat, feeling entirely out of place.
"Who's him?" I ask.
The workers turn to look at me, surprised that I've been listening.
"Our boss," says the first worker. "He's the best contractor in the county."
Seriously? I can't believe my luck. Maybe this is the help I need.
"Can you give me his number?" I ask eagerly.
They hesitated for a moment, exchanging a look. I don't know what that means, but I don't really care.
"Look, he could be the biggest asshole out there and I wouldn't care," I say. "I really need help with my cabin. If he's a...I don't know, a nailing genius, then I want him."
The guys snicker. I realize what I just said.
