Page 30 of Fetch Me A Mate
Tom's eyes lit up. "Brilliant angle. Nothing brings people together like shared work."
The story ran in Wednesday's edition with the headline "Heart of Hollow Oak Gets New Life." By Thursday morning, Diana's phone was ringing.
"I saw the article," said Freya's voice. "Need painters?"
"Always."
"Kieran's got Saturday free. And I know three others who'd help."
Mrs. Swanson called twenty minutes later. "That electrical work looks complicated. My nephew's an electrician. Want me to ask if he'll donate a few hours?"
By evening, Diana had a list of seventeen volunteers and offers of everything from sandwiches to professional consultation.
"You've started something," Miriam observed, settling into the parlor chair with her knitting. "Half the town's talking about lending a hand."
"That was the idea." Diana spread volunteer schedules across the coffee table. "People support what they help build."
"Smart girl." Miriam's needles clicked rhythmically. "How's our resident contractor taking the invasion?"
Diana glanced toward the stairs, where the sound of Rowan's hammer provided steady background rhythm. "He's... adapting."
"Adapting. Is that what we're calling it?"
Heat crept up Diana's neck. Small towns and their gossip networks. "He's professional."
"Professional." Miriam's tone suggested she wasn't fooled. "And how are you, dear? Professionally speaking."
Diana thought about the way Rowan's eyes had followed her movements all week, the careful distance he maintained, the moments when she caught him watching her with something that looked like hunger.
"I'm learning," she said finally.
Saturday arrived with unseasonable warmth and a crowd of volunteers that transformed the inn into organized chaos.
Diana found herself in the middle of it all, coordinating schedules and answering questions and making sure everyone had the supplies they needed. She'd never managed a group project this large, but somehow it felt natural. Like she'd been preparing for this role her whole life.
"Need more drop cloths in the parlor," called Freya.
"Danny needs someone to hold the fixture while he wires it," added Mrs. Swanson.
"Where do you want this trim piece?" asked Kieran, hefting a length of restored molding.
Diana orchestrated it all with growing confidence, her clipboard becoming command central for the organized beautiful chaos. She felt eyes on her and looked up to find Rowan standing in the doorway, tool belt slung low on his hips, watching her direct traffic with an expression she couldn't quite read.
"Everything under control?" he asked.
"Better than control. We're ahead of schedule."
Something shifted in his pale eyes. "You're good at this."
"At what?"
"Leading. Making people want to help." He stepped closer, voice dropping. "Making them believe in something."
"It's their town. Their inn. I'm just... facilitating."
"You're doing more than facilitating." His gaze held hers for a moment longer than necessary.
Before Diana could respond, Freya appeared with paint chips. "Diana, we need you to decide between sage and seafoam for the second-floor landing."
