Chapter 13

“ShayAnne, what are you doing?” her mother asked suspiciously when her daughter went out the front door carrying a basket of apples.

“Nothing,” her daughter said innocently, but her mother knew better.

“You’d best not disturb the new neighbor while he’s up there putting the framing on his house. They’ve got to get it done before the rainy season starts,” she warned.

“Oh, Mama,” ShayAnne said. “I just want to meet him and be cordial. After all, his sale was what enabled us to keep our beautiful home!”

“Well, it was our land to sell,” her mother said haughtily.

ShayAnne waved and shut the door. It was a nice enough day and she decided to walk up the winding side road that led to the neighboring property that had once belonged to the Hawke family. She was a little curious as to who the mysterious investor was who had swooped in and bought up their property when not a scant offer was to be seen anywhere. The economy had everyone worried, and suddenly their family was fine thanks to someone who paid the asking price without trying to haggle them down to the bare bone.

She carried the basket of apples up the road, humming as her red hair swung down her back. When she arrived at the hilltop, she saw a wide assortment of crew and construction materials. She approached the nearest member and asked where she might find the owner. The man gestured and ShayAnne went along her way across the circle drive into the alcove which would one day be the foyer of the new house. She had to admire the views of the orchard the side of the house would afford. From here she could see as far as the stables and easily look down on her own home. In the morning light, it seemed even more cheerful than usual and she swelled with pride just looking at it.

“Excuse me,” she said when she arrived at the man in the tie.

“Yes?” he said with a friendly smile.

“Are you the new owner?”

“No,” the man said, “the name’s Dawson; I’m the architect.”

“Oh,” ShayAnne said, disappointed. “Could you tell me where I can find him?”

“I’m afraid he’s not here today. Would you like me to relay a message for you?”

She smiled cordially and said simply, “No, thank you. Oh, but here, have some apples for yourself and your crew. They’re fresh from our orchards.”

“Oh, lovely!” he cried, accepting the basket.

She nodded and backed away. She would have to try again another day. Still, the architect seemed friendly, and the house construction was happening faster than she would have expected possible. So she hummed again as she took the winding path back down to her own home, and thought of the sweetness of even more possibilities.

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