Page 67 of Hometown Girl

“Well, you’ve made a lot of progress. Don’t kill yourself on it, though—I don’t know if anyone’s going to live in it for a while.”

“You’re not moving in?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. My mom had a stroke about ten months ago, so I moved back in with her.”

“I didn’t know.”

She sat back down across from him. “How could you?”

She read over his list. Each room still needed painting. The hardwood floors needed refinishing. He’d made several notes about the kitchen, depending on the budget. She looked around. It did need attention. New appliances, new cupboards, a new floor. In her mind, she heard the dinging of an imaginary cash register.

“Thanks for putting this together,” she said. “I know it’s about the last priority, but it’s good to know what we’re looking at.” She hadn’t expected him to work on the house. The fact that he was, that he seemed truly invested—well, she didn’t know what to do with that.

“When I was younger, they had something called the Fairwind Farm Market. Were you ever here during one of those?”

He shook his head.

“Maybe we could raise some more money for renovations if we organized one for this summer. We could invite local vendors—artists and makers—to come out and sell their stuff, and we could scour the house for stuff we could sell ourselves. Maybe have a booth with apple-cider donuts—sort of a tease of what’s to come.”

Thanks to the Internet, it wouldn’t take long to compile a list of midwestern vendors. Many of them might even remember the Fairwind Market.

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Yeah, but at least it’s work I understand. Do you know how many times I’ve swept the porch or weeded the flower beds? There’s only so many ways someone like me can help around here.”

He eyed her for a long moment. “I didn’t have you pegged for the kind of person who underestimates herself.”

She started to respond but snapped her jaw shut. He had a point.

“How much money do you really think you can make hosting something like this?” He looked skeptical.

“I’ll get back to you on that.” Maybe it was crazy. Maybe it wouldn’t be worthwhile. But it was the best idea she’d had so far. If it helped keep Fairwind in their family without having to find an outside investor, it was worth a shot.

Never mind that part of her knew it might be their only solution if they wanted to open before she and Molly turned into two old biddies shuffling around on the porch.

“Maybe we should see what’s upstairs,” Beth said, feeling excited for the first time since this crazy Fairwind adventure had begun.

Drew stood and started for the door. “Why?”

“There might be furniture up there we can sell. I’m betting it’s all vintage. Isn’t it?”

“I haven’t been up there yet, but take a look and let me know what you find.” Another tug on his baseball cap, and he was out the door before she could respond.

He’d been living there for over a week and he hadn’t gone upstairs?

What are you hiding, Drew Barlow?

Beth took her notebook and walked up the creaky staircase to the second level. While a barn sale might not be a huge moneymaker, every little bit would help, and the Pendergasts did have a lot of nice furniture. Old, but nice. People loved old, nice furniture. And it could be great publicity for the orchard. They’d get all that foot traffic out here to see what they were up to. The sooner they could get people thinking of the farm, the better. Her marketing mind had already started spinning with ideas.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she turned into the first bedroom. It seemed to be a guest room, with a small table in the corner that held a sewing machine. Unlike the downstairs, the upstairs seemed to have been carefully preserved. Everything in order. Almost untouched. The large wooden four-poster bed was made, and the room looked staged, like something you’d see in a magazine. A soft rug covered perfect hardwood floors. With the exception of a significant layer of dust, the room was still beautiful.

The two levels of the house seemed like polar opposites. How could one floor be in such disarray while the other was so pristine?

Beth imagined they could get a fair price for the bed—and the wardrobe at its side was a beautiful piece, though it wasn’t her style. She had no attachments to anything inside the house, so it would be easy to sell it off. Especially if it helped get them closer to opening the orchard.

Across from the guest room was another bedroom. Stepping across the threshold was like stepping into a time warp.

Thick white woodwork around the windows popped off the pale blue-gray walls. Not a cheery blue, but not depressing either. White eyelet valances covered only the tops of the three windows overlooking the yard. Beth loved the natural sunlight that poured through the windows, making the room appear larger than it was.

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