The Home They Built Page 5

  “Sure thing, boss.” Eryn was still laughing when she picked up the case and walked out of the kitchen.

  * * *

  Finn could remember a time when he was young—maybe nine or ten—when he’d wanted more than anything to be a television star. He’d be the heroic lead of a science fiction series, maybe, like Star Trek or Battlestar Galactica. Or he’d star in Westerns, though he knew at some point he’d probably have to learn to ride a horse.

  Right now, he’d never been so thankful to have outgrown a childhood whim. Even on as small a scale as he knew this production was, filming for a television show was proving to be something he didn’t have the patience for.

  Of course, it didn’t help that his mother and grandmother kept bickering while his father heaved so many weary sighs that Finn was surprised he didn’t pass out. After two hours spent listening to his grandmother spin her fictional yarn as they went through the guest rooms and her master bedroom upstairs, the crew had moved them downstairs. He got the impression they were slightly disappointed not to have more items of historical value to focus on.

  If only they knew that none of the items had genuine historical value.

  But them knowing the truth would be a disaster, so he kept his mouth shut and did what he was told, which was mostly moving boxes after the cameraman was done with a room.

  When they cleared the living room and he was given the signal that everything in it could be moved to one of the storage pods, he sighed and got ready for more trips out into the brutal heat. The crew went into the kitchen, where he knew Anna was because he could hear her voice, but he ignored the urge to follow the others. The sooner he got stuff moved, the sooner he could go home, take a cold shower and catch up on the work he’d missed while playing handyman.

  A frame he didn’t recognize poking out of the box caught his eye and he stopped to set the box down so he could pull it out. Behind the glass was what appeared to be a very old newspaper article about the Bayview Inn and the struggles of the Weaver family to keep it going. The article carried a photo he did recognize, showing his grandparents on the front porch, with their three sons staggered in front of them, one to a step. Uncle Frank had died in a car accident when Finn was a baby, and Uncle Kent had married a woman who didn’t like the rest of the family. The estrangement had gone on so long that Finn often forgot about him.

  His mom turned the corner, holding a lamp so old it would probably be called retro if not for the fact it was so hideously ugly nobody would want it. He turned the frame to face her. “What is this?”

  After peeking around the corner she’d just rounded to ensure nobody was nearby, she stepped close and kept her voice low. “Gram wrote that and got the newspaper to print it out on their paper. Then she dabbed tea all over it, crinkled it up, smoothed it out and left it in the sun to dry.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “That woman is an evil genius, Finn. Every night when I say my prayers, I thank the good Lord she doesn’t have higher ambitions than getting a free renovation.”

  He laughed even though he wasn’t sure she was joking. “This is the most ridiculous thing she’s done yet, by far.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  “This didn’t just happen. I mean, there was prep work done and a lot of stuff already moved to those pods. Plus the permits. How come nobody told me until two days ago?”

  “We didn’t know, either. There were several advance visits, from what I gather. Two guys showed up to do an inspection and make sure the house has good bones and a solid foundation, since they do renovations, not structural rehab. And then the stuff you said. But she didn’t bring us into the loop until after she’d signed the contract.”

  “How did she manage to hide that from us?” he asked. “Especially in this town. People moving stuff into storage pods at the Weaver house should have been the talk of Blackberry Bay.”

  “The moving part was very recent and she claimed she had a very contagious head cold to keep your dad and me away, I guess, along with all of her nosy friends. As for the gossip, I assume it’s all part of blackmailing people into going along with this ridiculousness.”

  Footsteps on the hardwood floor kept him from saying anything else, and he carried the box out to stack with the others in the pod. When he got back to the front porch, he found Anna there, holding out a bottle of water that was so cold it was already sweating in the heat.

  “Thank you,” he said, and then he held it against the back of his neck for a minute before cracking the cap off. He sat on the step and downed a quarter of the bottle in one shot. He was surprised when Anna sat on the wide step next to him. He didn’t imagine he smelled too great right then. But with each of them sitting somewhat sideways, leaned against the railings, she wasn’t too close. And he could see her face. “I needed this.”

  “Usually I’m better at making sure everybody remembers to hydrate, but my publicist decided today was the day he would dump a ton of questions about a book tour on Eryn and me.”

  “A book tour, huh?”

  “Yeah, for my second book. Same themes as the show, of course, but not tie-ins so they’re not connected to the network. I always like to keep my eggs in more than one basket.”

  “Always smart business,” he said, before remembering he was supposed to know more about fixing a loose porch railing than business. “You’re a little young to have built yourself an empire, aren’t you?”

  “And you’re a little old to be mowing your grandmother’s lawn, aren’t you?”

  “Ouch,” he said, and the hand he put over his heart to signal being wounded was only a slight exaggeration. “I guess I deserved that.”

  She laughed and his heart thudded a little faster under his palm before he dropped his hand. “I wouldn’t exactly call it an empire.”

  “And I do more than mow lawns.” He wished he could tell her how much more.

  “Touché.” After she held eye contact for a long moment, her mouth almost curved into a smile, and she looked down at the ring she was spinning on her right hand. “To be perfectly honest, my primary marketable skill is being able to engage with a camera, and it was my YouTube channel that originally brought me to the network’s attention. That’s what enabled me to monetize my passion for fixing up really old houses.”

  “And where did that passion come from? For fixing up old houses, I mean. Did it start with a knack for design or from the actual houses?”

  “The houses,” she said without hesitation. “Nothing breaks my heart more than watching an old house with character deteriorate, knowing it’s only a matter of time before it’s replaced by a vinyl-clad box with windows. I’ve just always loved them. The details in the woodwork and old brick. Gingerbread trim and latticework and...don’t even get me started. I could go on all day.”

  Her self-deprecating chuckle made him smile. “You light up when you talk about it, so feel free to go on as long as you want. Tell me how you ended up focusing on inns.”

  “Not just inns, which you’d know if you watched the show,” she said, and then she laughed to show there were no hard feelings. “I’ve done a couple of restaurants, though they’re a much bigger project because of the commercial kitchen aspect. I’ve done several houses where we turned the downstairs into office space, with the residence upstairs. A lot of people with big historical properties try to run businesses out of them to offset the cost, but it’s really hard to make a modern business work efficiently in an antiquated setting. My focus on them is two-fold, I guess. One, those are the people who really care and are strongly motivated to preserve the property, and two, it’s a hook. It gives viewers a stronger emotional investment in the show.”

  “And for every show you do, you probably manage to help a few more people who are in the same position. They get some tips or some ideas for resources, plus just the boost of knowing it can be done.”

 
Her smile lit up her face and he had to take another gulp of chilled water to cool himself down. “Exactly. I just want to inspire people to see that not only are their houses worth saving, but that it can be done. Even if it’s about three hundred degrees outside.”

  He chuckled as she wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “I guess we’re all shiny today. Tomorrow’s supposed to be cooler, though. And less humid.”

  “That’s a good thing, since we’re starting demolition tomorrow.”

  “Can’t wait,” he muttered, unable to even pretend he was excited about the prospect.

  “Hey, maybe we’ll find some priceless treasure in the walls, like a copy of the Declaration of Independence or a signed Picasso,” she said, her eyes crinkling with humor. “You never know. There could be something worth a lot of money in there.”

  “What’s the going rate for petrified mouse carcasses these days?”

  She pretended to give the matter serious thought for a few seconds. “Probably slightly less than mummified squirrel remains.”

  They were laughing softly together when the screen door opened and Eryn stepped onto the porch. “I really hate to interrupt, Anna, but Cody just asked Tess if the lemonade was made from concentrate and she’s trying to throw him out.”

  Anna’s eyes widened, which made Finn laugh as she stood and brushed off the seat of her capris. “Gram’s pretty proud of her lemonade. She makes it fresh.”

  “So he insulted her.” Anna sighed. “Any tips on smoothing it over?”

  “It might be easier to hire a new cameraman,” he said, because he’d agreed to fake being the family handyman, not the on-site therapist. Nobody paid him enough for that. But when Anna blew out a sharp breath, he couldn’t help himself. “Maybe tell her the kid’s never had lemonade that wasn’t from a powdered mix and doesn’t know any better. She might feel bad for him.”

  “She’s a lot feistier than I expected,” Anna said, shaking her head. “There’s definitely a lot more to her than meets the eye.”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” he muttered as the two women went inside to put out the first of what Finn suspected would be many fires.

  Chapter Five

  By Sunday, the entire crew was ready for a break. Even if they didn’t film on-site, they often spent at least part of Sundays reviewing film or making a supply run. But a few days with the Weaver family had worn them all out, and Anna had told them all to take the day off. Eryn had driven off in the little car the previous morning and probably wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night, so she had the RV to herself.

  It was also Mother’s Day, and Anna knew she wasn’t going to be able to focus on her work. Rather than have to come up with an explanation for her distraction, she was going to enjoy some downtime in the RV with the AC cranked up and something mindless streaming on her iPad.

  But first, she needed to call Naomi—the woman she’d called Mom for the first sixteen years of her life. And still did, because she was always going to be Mom to Anna.

  Honey, you’ll be moving out with me. Hailey and Casey are staying here. I... I’m sorry you have to find out this way, but Naomi isn’t your birth mother. We got married when you were just a baby and it just seemed easier for her to be your mom. I always meant to tell you, but the time never seemed right.

  Anna hadn’t grasped what he meant right away, struggling to understand his emotional confession as they both cried. She’d been prepared for the divorce talk. Even a self-involved teenager could see that the cracks in their marriage had widened into chasms. She hadn’t been prepared to learn her life was a lie, and that she’d only been told the truth because it would come out during the proceedings.

  It had shaken her faith in her father—in marriage and in stability. Years later, her own marriage had crumbled in the same unexpected and devastating fashion, when a tabloid outed her husband’s meetings with a show host from a rival network as being an affair, and not his real estate company trying to sell her house as he’d claimed. It was no wonder she’d given up on men and thrown herself into Relic Rehab.

  Anna had gone with her father when he moved out. She didn’t have to. Naomi had said she was welcome to stay with her and Anna’s sisters, and at sixteen, the court would allow her to live with the woman who’d raised her. But in the end, she hadn’t been able to face her father being all alone, even though she was so angry with him—even though he’d lied to her for her entire life. But her relationship hadn’t ended with Naomi just because her father’s marriage to her had.

  This was the first Mother’s Day Anna wasn’t within driving distance of the traditional Mother’s Day brunch. Getting together with her sisters and Naomi was easy when it was a group thing. But this was the first time since finding out her mom wasn’t who she thought she was that Anna would have to deliberately reach out on her own.

  The irony of her being in her birth mother’s hometown for the occasion had Anna turning her phone over and over in her hand, hesitating. Being where she was and doing what she was doing had her emotions in a low-level but constant state of upheaval and she wasn’t sure she was up to this phone call.

  But she also wasn’t up to disappointing Naomi. Their legal relationship may have been severed, but Naomi had worked so hard at making sure Anna knew her love for her was genuine and that she wasn’t going to stop loving her just because she wasn’t married to Anna’s dad anymore. Rather than letting her mind obsess over it all day—working herself into an emotional state that might show in her voice—Anna pulled up Naomi in her contacts and tapped her photo. It only rang one time.

  “Anna! I was just thinking about you!”

  The surprise and joy her mother—former stepmother—managed to inject into those few words made Anna smile, despite the pang of guilt she got from almost bailing on making the call. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

  “Thank you, honey.”

  “I won’t keep you long because I know you’re getting ready for brunch, but I wanted you to know I’m thinking about you and wishing I could be there.”

  “I wish you could be with us, too.” She sniffled, and Anna knew she was trying not to cry. “It won’t be the same without you. Where are you filming?”

  “I’m in... New Hampshire. An old inn on a lake. It’s beautiful, actually.” She’d almost admitted to being in Blackberry Bay because it was a bandage she’d have to rip off eventually, but at the last second she realized Mother’s Day might not be the kindest day to tell the woman who’d raised her that she was looking for the woman who’d chosen not to. “I’ll tell you all about it next time I see you.”

  “Let me know when you’re going to be home and we’ll have a ladies’ lunch or something fun.”

  “Definitely,” Anna said. They both kept their tones light, neither mentioning her father. They never did. And Anna didn’t spend a lot of time in his home once she graduated because her father keeping secrets from her had seemed like a worse transgression than Naomi keeping secrets from her. While they were both at fault, Anna definitely heaped most of the blame on her dad’s shoulders.

  They made small talk for a few minutes, until there was a lull Anna could take advantage of. “I know you have to get ready for brunch and I have a lot of work to do, so I’ll let you go.”

  “I’m so glad you called today.”

  “Me too.” Anna hesitated, and then just went with her heart. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you too, honey. So much.”

  Once the call was over, Anna flopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She was restless and needed something to occupy her time, but she knew her mind wasn’t going to focus on anything for more than a few minutes. She probably could have talked Eryn into going for a walk with her, but before they’d even arrived in town, her assistant had scheduled this time off for herself. She and her wife had a little boy who was eleven months old and Eryn had wanted to
be home for their first Mother’s Day together.

  Anna got tired of staring at the ceiling fairly quickly, so she got up and cleaned the RV, which took all of ten minutes. Then, still restless, she grabbed her phone and slid her slim wallet into her pocket. Maybe a walk would help.

  It ended up being a longer walk than she intended. By the time she reached what passed for downtown Blackberry Bay, her hair was sticking to her neck and she regretted not thinking to put it in a ponytail. But there was a slight breeze off the water and she made her way to the gazebo where she and Eryn had shared a cupcake. She could sit here and look out over the lake. It was definitely a better view than the RV ceiling.

  She wondered if her mother—her birth mother—had ever sat in this spot, looking out over the still water.

  Anna knew almost nothing about her. A few times over the years, she’d plugged her name into a Facebook or Google search, but Christine Smith wasn’t the easiest name to search. Anna’s birth certificate said her mother had been born in New Hampshire, and her father had let slip during one of the few times she could get him to talk about her mother that he’d met her while on vacation in a town called Blackberry Bay, where Christine had been scooping ice cream for tourists. He’d been so reluctant to talk about her—only saying she hadn’t been fit to be a mother—and it obviously pained him so much that she’d eventually stopped asking questions.

  At any time since she turned sixteen, Anna probably could have done a deep dive and learned pretty much anything she might want to know about the woman who’d given birth to her. Especially in the last few years, when she had the financial resources to get a professional involved. But something had always held her back—more than the difficulty in narrowing down all the Christine Smiths in the state.

  She hadn’t wanted Anna. Christine Smith had walked away and let another woman claim her daughter as her own. So she might occasionally cave to curiosity and peek at a few search results, but mostly Anna had spent the last almost-ten years trying not to want her mother any more than she had wanted her.