With a short running start, she bumped the wheel over the threshold into the kitchen. No rest for the busy. Not with a mammoth project ahead of her.

But she could see the finish line even though it was miles and months away. She could see cups of coffee in the brand-new kitchen with its wall of windows over quartz countertops and glossy new cabinetry. On nice, bright days, someone would take that coffee onto the sunporch or terrace. In the winter, instead of the small collection of cheap empty beer cans and liquor bottles she’d found, there’d be a fire in the high-ceilinged library at the back of the house. Of course, it wouldn’t be her doing the living after the work. But someone would be here, enjoying the treasure she reclaimed for them.

Pushing for the front door, she wheeled through the rotunda, past the Scarlett O’Hara–worthy staircase, and paused outside the study’s pocket doors she’d popped off their tracks to get a look at their hardware. The portrait above the fireplace beckoned again.

Mr. and Mrs. Campbell made a dignified couple. Maggie couldn’t help but wonder if it was her imagination or the talented hand of the artist that had her seeing the Mona Lisa smirk on Mrs. Campbell’s lips.

“Don’t worry, Campbells. It’s only trash,” she promised them before backing out of the open front door.

“Mags, Mags, Mags.” Silas was standing hipshot at the foot of the porch steps. “Got a hell of a place here,” he observed.

The man certainly wasn’t shy. Getting him on camera with his doofy dog and crooked grin probably wouldn’t take much more than a “please.”

“I am aware,” she said mildly, parking the wheelbarrow on the porch, above the dumpster. “Now, before you start working numbers and figuring out how to sweet-talk me into doing more than I want to do, let me give you the rest of it.”

“I’m all yours,” he said with that easy grin.

Silas Wright was used to charming the ladies. But this particular lady was more interested in his prowess outside of the bedroom.

“Renovations are just part of what I do,” she began, stepping off the porch. “I also film everything for my YouTube channel. It’s a weekly show. I started it a few years ago mostly to teach women how to tackle renovations, and it grew from there. If I hire you—”

“You will,” he said.

“If I hire you,” she repeated, “I’d want you and your crew to be comfortable being on camera. To talk about what you’re doing. Tell the story of your business, your town. I have a feeling you won’t be deeply offended if I tell you you’ve got a face for the camera.”

“I’ve heard I’m not completely hideous,” he said with feigned seriousness. “But that came from my moms, so they’re biased.”