Shelby brushes her hands on her pants and jumps down off the truck bed. “It would be my honor. I’m not sure I could give it away, though. I’m too selfish. I’ll be keeping this one for myself.”

Mr. Jenson looks pleased as Punch. They haggle over price, but I can tell whatever answer they come to, she’s going to find a way to pay him extra.

“Hey, Muscles,” she says to me at last. “Think you can help me get this onto the truck?”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” I say, pretending to grumble.

Mr. Jenson chuckles low, his eyes red-rimmed but crinkled at the corners in a fond smile. “It’s not a bad job, young man. I’ve been my Margaret’s muscles for fifty-eight years.”

I grin at him. “That sounds like it might be the best job, actually.”

“You take care of our girl, Mr. Riggs.”

“That’s my plan.”

Shelby beams and gives him another hug, pressing her lips to his weathered cheek. I enlist the teenaged son of the farmer hosting the sale and together we move the solid pew to our truck. After, I retrieve the box of iron hardware and walk back inside to pay. There’s a whole crowd of geezer farmers around Shelby now, trading stories and working hard to win her musical laugh. I imagine they’re here to look at old tractors, too, but she’s the highlight. They don’t care about her history or the television crew. I doubt they’ll even watch our show, if it gets to that point. Scratch that, I doubt they’d be able to find the channel in the first place.

But it doesn’t matter. As improbable as it is, she’s earned their respect. They trust her with their memories. They believe in her skill. Long before Lyle came sniffing around, and long after the camera crews leave, Shelby will have a place in this community.

And I’m finding, the more time I spend here, with her—with them—I want to find my place in this community, too.

16

SHELBY

WRECKING BALL

Oh, Shelby and Cam from two weeks ago. You’re so hilarious and naive to think you might be able to secretly date while renovating a house and also hiding it from the video cameras and your ex-boyfriend-slash-former-costar-slash-boss.

In the ten days since our trip north, Cam and I have kissed in two (unfinished) closets and spent four nights whispering dirty talk over the phone until the early-morning hours.