Page 87 of Bennett

Brandi tilted her head. “New to town?”

Rylee perked up. “Jenna’s an old friend of mine. We grew up together in California. She’s smart, funny, and loyal to a fault. She used to be an attorney, but she’s stepping away from that world to open a craft and DIY shop with her younger sister.”

Laurel nodded. “She said she was ready for a change. Wants to build something of her own.”

Boy, could she relate.

“She’s perfect for this place,” Rylee said with a warm smile.

Laurel grinned. “Winslow Crossing is going to be the heart of something good.”

“Winslow Crossing? I love it!” Brandi exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s perfect,” Rylee agreed. “Jenna will help make it feel like a community. I know it.” Still smiling, she shook her head. “In high school, she once hot-glued glitter and rhinestones to every desk in our homeroom—just because she said the space needed more sparkle. The janitor was furious, the teacher was impressed, and Jenna? She brought in extra glue sticks the next day just in case anyone wanted to bedazzle their notebooks too.”

Laurel laughed, her heart already warming to the idea of this creative force joining the fold. “Definitely sounds like someone who’d fit right in.

“Yes.” Brandi grinned. “She sounds like the kind of woman who could redesign a room with washi tape and determination. I like her already.”

“Me, too. I’m excited to meet her in person,” Laurel said before sobering. “But her call made me realize something. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Brandi raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean leases, insurance, zoning, business registration…oh, my. I need someone who can walk me through the legalities of turning Winslow Crossing into something official. I don’t want to mess this up.”

Rylee leaned forward. “You don’t have to figure it all out alone. Jenna might not be licensed to practice in Texas, but I know someone local who’s excellent. His name’s Mark Espinoza—he’s a real estate attorney out of Rockport. Good reputation, thorough, and not the kind who tries to bulldoze you with legalese.”

“Oh, I know Mark.” Brandi nodded. “I’ve worked with him a couple of times on client contracts. He’s solid. Patient, too. You’d like him.”

Laurel let out a long breath, the tight knot in her chest loosening just a little. “That’s great. Can you give me his contact info?”

“Absolutely,” Rylee said. “I’ll text it to you today.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said, meaning it more than she could express. “This place matters to me, and I just want to do it right.”

“You will,” Brandi said confidently.

And for the first time since this all began, Laurel believed that might actually be true. She smiled, nerves still fluttering inside her, but now they were mingled with something steadier. Purpose.

“Thanks—both of you.” She smiled at them. “It’s starting to feel real. Like, maybe I’m not just pretending I can do this.”

Rylee bumped her shoulder gently. “That’s because you can do this.”

“Exactly.” Brandi grinned. “You alreadyaredoing it.”

Laurel had just finished her decadent chocolate cupcake when the low rumble of a delivery truck rolled past the window, drawing her gaze outside. It wasn’t unusual. Brandi’s crews were always running errands or picking up new supplies, but something about the slow, lingering pace of this one made her stomach twist.

Rylee noticed. “You okay?”

Laurel blinked, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just weird déjà vu, I guess.”

Brandi followed her line of sight and frowned slightly. “Not one of ours.”

Great. Not what she wanted to hear.

The truck turned the corner and disappeared down the block, but the unease stayed a moment longer. Then Brandiclapped her hands, as if shaking off the tension, causing Laurel to jump.

“Okay. Enough doom.” The designer smiled. “I’ve got curtains to steam, and you’ve got a future to design.”

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