Page 55 of Meet Me at Sunset Cove

Daisy had done her share of snooping since they’d started the project. She’d seen every room, imagined the renovations she could do, all the ways she could turn this place from a house to a home for someone. She had a lot of ideas for the kitchen.

She’d move the island to make room for two between the oven and sink. Update the cabinets to be large enough to hide away appliances. Add space to sit around the counter. A place for kids to gather. A handcrafted pantry door made by this local woodworker she knew…

That’s what she’d do.

If it were hers.

Daisy let out a quiet sigh and turned, her gaze catching on the windows that overlooked the backyard, her eyes following a recently worn path through the grass, leading to the weather shed tucked away at the edge of the property.

Bingo.

Hunter’s workshop.

The door creaked as she pushed it open, the scent of sawdust and varnish enveloping her. Daisy’s eyes widened as she took in the organized chaos of Hunter’s workspace. Tools lined the walls, wood scraps were neatly stacked in corners, and various projects in different stages of completion leaned against corners and surfaces.

Daisy’s fingers traced over piles of abandoned projects, delicately searching through them without luck. Dust floated in the air as she rustled through canvas and shifted stacks of wood. And then her eyes caught on a large cloth-covered object sitting on a stack of window casing, tucked behind a storage cabinet.

Daisy approached it and gently lifted the dusty cloth. Her breath caught as she revealed a corner of stained glass, its colors muted by years of concealment but still unmistakably beautiful.

With trembling hands, she pulled the cloth away completely, revealing the transom window in its entirety. The intricate pattern of browns and greens mimicked the roots of an ancient tree, telling a story of the Barrett family.

“Oh, Hunter,” she whispered, imagining a younger version of him rescuing the window after the fire that had left his family in pieces. She could see him carefully wrapping it up, tucking it away. Just in case.

Daisy’s throat ached as her fingers ghosted over the delicate glasswork. This window belonged back in the house. Back where it could bring light and beauty to the sunroom again.

Daisy glanced at her watch. She still had time before Hunter arrived back from work.

Quickly, she gathered the supplies she’d need—a hammer and nails. Wood glue. A level. The old window casing piled beneath the glass—and transferred them inside, next to a ladder. And then finally, she slipped the window from its hiding place and carried it inside.

* * *

In all her years of design, Daisy had likely installed dozens of transoms all by herself. So why was it that this one seemed absolutely determined to give her trouble?

Daisy set the level down on the sash again and watched the bubble slide past the little lines. She dropped her head onto her arms resting on the ladder. It was mocking her.

“Come on, Daisy. Pull it together,” she muttered as she started in again, adjusting the sash one more time before setting it with nails and climbing down. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she carefully lifted the glass insert. It was heavier than she’d expected.

Balancing on the ladder, Daisy summoned all of her upper body strength and slowly lifted the glass into the window. Her arms trembled as she ran her fingers along the outer edge, pushing it into place.

Just as she thought she had the window aligned correctly, her phone began to vibrate in her back pocket. Daisy paused, pressing her fingertips to balance the glass as she slipped the phone out and placed it atop the ladder. Her finger hovered over the answer button and stopped.

Mom.

Daisy froze, her heart suddenly racing.

Her fingers trembled as she struggled to keep pressure against the glass.

What would she say? ‘Hey, Mom, sorry it’s been months since I last called. My life imploded and I’m just really swamped right now. But don’t worry. I have a plan.’

Yeah. No.

Not yet.

Daisy turned her attention back to the task at hand, letting the call go to voicemail.

The phone shifted, the vibrations buzzing it closer to the edge.

Daisy’s eye caught on the phone as it tipped, and she instinctively reached for it.

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