Closing her eyes and steadying herself against a shelf, she pulled herself together. She could do this, just get the tarp and lumber she needed to temporarily patch up the roof. Simple as that, right?

She got everything she needed without running into Abe. He must have left, she thought with a sigh of relief as she made it up to the checkout.

“Did ya find everything ya needed?” asked Hank from behind the counter.

His thick accent and overalls made her smile. He always reminded him of her Pappaw.

“I think so,” she said with her signature smile.

“What ya got going on here, sweetheart?” he said, ringing up her tarp.

“There’s a hole in my roof.”

“Are ya staying at the old house? I’d reckon ya got a few holes in that there roof.”

“Yeah . . . I’m afraid I might, too. I know I’ll need a whole new roof, but right now, I’m just going to patch it.”

“Your roof is leaking?” a deep voice asked from behind her.

Abe was evaluating her with a stern expression.

“Oh . . . ummm. Yeah, but it’s okay,” she said, trying to push away the awkward anxiety.

“I’ll come take a look at it.”

“Abe, you don’t have to do that.”

Abe’s eyes softened, and a small smile upturned his lips. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen this expression on him before.

“I don’t mind. It would actually make me feel better knowing you weren’t up on the roof. You’d fall to your death in good weather, let alone after the rain we got last night. Please, let me come get this patch put on for you.”

“Okay.”

Her gaze lowered, and she stared at his big work boots in stark comparison to her sandals. As much as she hated to admit it, she did need his help.

“I’ll stop over this afternoon.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, finally meeting his eyes.

They both knew she was asking because of Asher.

“Yeah, Sunny, I’m sure. I’ll come take a look at it.”

“Thank you,” she said, pushing down the emotion clawing at her throat to get out.

But not here. Not in front of Abe.

When she made it home, she got cleaned up the mess and set to work on the dining room, the next room to make livable. The first box she opened had crap, like old magazines, recipe clippings, but she also found her birth certificate. The next was the same: an old Sears catalog, coupon circulars, and the deed to the house.

She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she took in all the boxes lining the back wall.

Great, it looks like these boxes were a hodgepodge of junk and important paperwork. Might as well get to it.

She took the scrunchie from her wrist and pulled her hair back. It was time to turn up the music and get to work. The next box was full of newspaper clippings. Her dad was up to something. He’d gotten so secretive in his last couple of months. If she had stayed, maybe she would know what he’d been up to before he died. Maybe if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her own grief, she could have helped. Maybe part of making this right would be to pick up where he left off—but isn’t that also part of why she ran? She was in over her head.

A knock at the door pulled her out of the what-if spiral she had been on the brink of returning.

She put the lid on the box before brushing the dust from her pants and heading to the front door.