Page 11 of The Christmas Blueprint

“Happy to see me?” His full lips that she’d embarrassingly drawn obsessively in her sketch pad as a teen, curved up in a wry smile.

“Surprised.” She gulped. “Riley said nothing.”

“She doesn’t know yet.”

Sophia stared. Killian had left Bear Creek like wanted posters had been tacked to the post office bulletin board, before the ink was dry on his diploma. So had Enrique and Hunter. Riley had been confused and devastated, repeating over and over in a whisper that Killian said he wanted no part of being an electrician—none. He’d wanted to be “his own man,” and Riley had looked at Sophia as if she could explain what that meant.

Sophia hadn’t understood as a rising high school sophomore, but she sure did now.

“You’re surprising her?” Her heart fluttered in her chest like a bird fighting an updraft.

“And apparently you.”

He was leaner. His features more hewn. His green eyes dark and mysterious in the glow of the Christmas lights. Riley had strung them around the canopy Sophia had sewn and mounted on the old Airstream trailer abandoned in the mill. She and Riley had cleaned out the Airstream and refurbished it using YouTube videos this past summer and fall. The hands-on work had been therapeutic and confidence building. Sophia thought the trailer could be used either as a building manager’s office or to house one of the fledging businesses she hoped would soon call the old mill home.

He walked closer, his eyes taking all of her in, and Sophia felt exposed. “It’s been a hot minute, Soph. How you holding up?”

She felt like he’d sloshed her with water. Like everyone else, he saw her as a victim of grief and circumstances, someone to worry about.

“Never better.” She winced. That sounded cold. And a lie, although in some ways it was true. “Killian, it’s good to see you.” Another partial truth because she couldn’t breathe properly anymore.

The last time she’d seen him was at Enrique’s funeral. She’d hugged him and hadn’t been able to let go until he’d disentangled her arms from his neck, and her brother had held her up while she’d shaken and had finally burst into tears.

“What are you’re doing back in Bear Creek?” He still hadn’t told her.

The Christmas season officially started after Thanksgiving this week. Surely he couldn’t take a month off work. Riley was his only family currently calling Bear Creek home. And she’d heard through friends that Hunter’s sister Lisa and her family were moving back to Bear Creek and that Hunter would follow after he mustered out of the army.

She caught her breath. “Is everything okay?” She took a step toward him, her hand out.

He took a step back.

Embarrassment pierced her. He’d never liked her. He’d always kept his distance when she’d tried to engage him in conversation and flirt a little in high school. And after Enrique had left the service to move home, she and Enrique had started dating, and Killian had barely looked at her or talked to her during his speedy and rare visits.

“’S good,” he said shortly. “Relatively speaking.” He finally looked away from her and instead focused on the thick beams and trestles holding up the timbered roof of the three-story building’s open floor plan.

He turned in a circle like she had done, his gaze intent. His expression was similar to how he’d looked when he’d been doing advanced calculus homework as a junior and she and Riley, eighth graders with big attitudes and little else to show for themselves, had been running wild in and out of the house, likely making it impossible for him to concentrate.

“This is a massive space and takes open floor plan to a whole new level,” he mused. “The building’s in much better shape than I’d expected for something that has been abandoned for decades.”

“Zhang hired a clean-up crew for the entire site,” she said. “And a structural engineer. This building’s passed inspection. It’s in the best shape, probably because it was used to store all the grain so it was built strong and tight.”

He nodded and took a few pictures with his phone.

That was odd.

“Repaired roof,” she continued, “seismically retrofitted to code, all new windows and everything pressure-washed. Some other repairs are ongoing.”

“It’s big. Empty.”

Why did he keep saying that? As an architect, shouldn’t the space inspire him? All Sophia saw was opportunity.

They stood in silence, each absorbing the space, and the music switched over to “Oh Holy Night”—her favorite.

“Bit early for Christmas carols,” he noted.

“I’ve always loved the classic carols. First day after Thanksgiving that’s all that’s playing in my shop.”

“You were always singing as a kid. Beautiful voi—” He broke off and looked down.

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