place without needy kids and the smell of cows.
But it had left her husband to sink into a mire of alcoholism and despair.
It had left Connor to grow up at fifteen. And for Eli to follow right along with him.
And all that pain had started in the house that now sheltered Sadie Miller. It seemed fitting in some ways. Since she was a pain in his butt.
He walked down the steps to the driveway, then headed down the path that took him the back way to his house.
Sadie Miller wouldn’t be a problem, because he wouldn’t let her become one.
He was the law around here, after all.
SADIE WOULD VENTURE down into town today at some point. Grab some supplies. After she’d taken inventory, of course. She knew there were some tools in the shed, per the typed-up—and very brief—note Connor had left on the kitchen counter.
But until she had some clue about what sort of work she might need to do, the tools were fairly useless. She had some basic information on the minor flaws in the house, but there were other things she wanted to tackle.
Most of the place had the original wood paneling. Wainscoting that went halfway up the walls, which were painted a deep cream. The wooden detail was echoed on the ceiling, crossbeams forming a checkerboard over the plaster ceiling.
It looked like the crown molding in a few of the rooms had been replaced at some point, and it didn’t match. Which meant she was going to need to take it down, and then mount some new stuff.
That wasn’t a part of her original plan, but she had a little cushion for some surprises. And money set aside for some major projects, like the addition of a back deck. And since structural issues were Connor’s problem, she didn’t anticipate running into anything that would absolutely kill her budget.
Some people might call her a flake, but she was a well-educated flake with a basic understanding of money management.
She walked into the kitchen, and to the walk-in pantry that was larger than some bedrooms she’d had in her years of apartments. The solid wood shelves had a fine layer of dust over them. A mop and broom standing in the corner were the only residents, except for a few daddy longlegs hanging on the ceiling.
She made a mental note to take care of those guys later and walked back out into the kitchen, opening up cabinets that were mainly empty. There was one cabinet filled with mismatched teacups, and she counted that as a good find.
A quirky touch to add to the place. As inspiration went, it was a good place to start.
She wandered back through the dining room, which was nearly dominated by a large wooden table that was scarred from years of use. Refinishing that would go on her list of to-dos, but not for a while. She’d throw a tablecloth on it for now.
Out in the hall, the old wooden floor squeaked under her feet. Weirdly, she liked the sound. Liked the reminder of the age of the house.
The boards on the stairs were the same, her fingertips leaving a light trail on the banister as they cut through the thin film of dust. The house had obviously been cleaned when the previous tenant had left; it had just been a couple of years since anyone had been back inside.
She walked down the hall and pushed open the doors to each of the four bedrooms. They all had gorgeous four-poster beds. They would need all-new linens and drapes, but she’d been expecting that. The two bedrooms on the backside of the house faced the thick, undeveloped forest, and the other two provided views of a bright green field, dotted with cows.
All the rooms needed blinds to block the light so guests could sleep as late as they liked, and do whatever they wanted with no privacy concerns.
Two rooms had private bathrooms, while two others had to share one in the hall—not ideal, but given the age of the house, that it was as well-appointed as it was was sort of a miracle.
All it would take was a bit of scrubbing, polishing and the addition of matching molding. Also, some knickknacks, new furniture and a carload of linens.
The shopping would be the fun part. She would try to keep it local so that the finished product reflected Copper Ridge. She was really getting into this whole concept of community.
For now, she was going to go and hunt for those tools Connor said were in the shed. What she would do with them was up for debate, but she had a kind of driving need to do whatever she could.
Sadie tromped down the steps and into the yard, the bark-laden ground soft beneath her tennis shoes, dew from the weeds flinging up onto her pant legs and sending a chill through her.
It wasn’t warm yet this morning, but the wind was still, the trees around her seeming to close in tight, sheltering her and her new house from the outside world.
She whistled, the sound echoing off the canopy of trees, adding to the feeling of isolation. She liked it. And even more than that, her guests would like it.
Well, they’d better, anyway, since she was committed to five years here. Claustrophobia’s icy fingers wound their way around her neck when the thought hit. Five years. In one place. In Copper Ridge, no less, the keeper of her hang-ups and other issues.
You’re confronting your past. It’s what you’d tell a patient to do.
Her inner voice was right. But her inner voice could go to hell. She wasn’t in the mood to confront things. She was just...trying to feel a little less wrong. A little less restless.
A little less like she was a rolling tumbleweed. Or a running-at-full-tilt tumbleweed.
She’d given so much advice that she’d never once followed. Facing fears, facing the old things that held power over a person. Going back to a point of trauma and seeing that it held no magical properties.
Well, she was following it now.
She zipped up her hoodie, fortifying herself against the general dampness that clung to the air, and walked down the path that should lead her to the shed.
An engine roar disturbed her silence, and she turned to see a black truck barreling down the long, secluded drive that led to her house.
She stopped and watched, trying to catch a glimpse of the driver. She failed, but she figured it was too grand an entrance for someone who wanted to Freddy Krueger her, so she was probably good.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and headed back to where the truck had parked. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
The feminine voice that greeted her wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Neither was the petite brunette who dropped down from the driver’s side, wearing a flannel shirt and a pair of Carhartts. Her braid flipped down over her shoulder as her boots hit the ground, and she looked up and smiled.
Sadie vaguely remembered that there was a female Garrett, but she’d never known her. Unsurprising, really, since this girl looked wholesome and shiny, and all the things Sadie had never been.
