She smiled and took a breath. “This is the first community celebration in this house in decades,” she began. “It’s not going to be the last. And that’s because of each and every one of you. Thank you for every hour, every drop of sweat, every effort you gave to uncover this hidden gem. You took rubble and ruin and made it into treasure.”

Several someones in the crowd whooped.

“We’re awesome!”

She laughed and raised her glass. “To the Old Campbell Place. May its future be even more storied than its past.”

The men and women assembled—the painters and plaster workers, the landscapers and plumbers—raised their glasses. But she only saw Silas, that dangerous half-smile playing on his lips.

“Cheers!” the crowd roared.

“Now let’s get ready to party!” she yelled over the celebration.

He didn’t come to her in the ensuing chaos as close to fifty tradespeople dispersed to show off the work they’d done to their families. And she didn’t seek him out either. But she got the sense that they both knew it was inevitable.

Maggie was swept into a conversation with Kayla and two of Cody’s teachers and then was handed off to Jim to meet Mrs. Jim. It went on like that for at least an hour until Dean waved her into the sunporch. “This is Jeanie Lacruz from Atwood Publishing.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Maggie said, shaking the woman’s offered hand.

“The pleasure is mine. I hope you don’t mind me practically crashing your party,” Jeanie said.

“The more, the merrier,” Maggie told her, scanning the terrace, looking for Silas. She found him in conversation with his dads and Roy from the plant.

“I must confess. I come with ulterior motives. My company is the one that holds the publishing rights to A. Campbell’s books. They’ve been experiencing a revival of sorts because of you. The town is going to be very happy with the royalties for the last quarter,” she predicted.

“That’s good to hear.”

“Have you ever considered writing a book?”

Maggie blinked. “A book?”

“You have an innate talent for discovering and showcasing potential. Atwood Publishing does plenty of nonfiction titles a year. I’m confident we could find a market for a design book by Maggie Nichols.”

“I’ll let you two talk,” Dean said, bowing out politely.

Behind Jeanie’s back, he mimed a freak-out.

“That’s an interesting proposition, Jeanie,” Maggie confessed, doing her best to keep a straight face. “And I think I’ve got something else that might make your night.”

Ten minutes later, her head was still spinning when Dayana approached. “Don’t hate me,” she said.

“Oh God. Did Keaton flush another action figure? Did you try the plunger?”

“It’s not a plumbing problem. It’s Dad.”

Maggie frowned. “Is he okay?”

“He’s here.”

“Here?” Maggie parroted. “As in Kinship?”