“Come on, you two. The world needs to hear the story of how you met,” Dean called from the front porch.

“Kevin is gonna be so embarrassed,” Silas quipped.

8

8

The day was done. And in the grand tradition of big jobs, things looked worse than when they’d first arrived.

Half of the roof was stripped, and the east side of the house looked naked without the plantings that just this morning had crowded the walls with a tangle of half-dead foliage. There were piles of rock, debris, and weeds that would only grow bigger in the coming days.

It was a good start to the project, Silas decided, dropping the tailgate on his truck and dragging the cooler closer.

Tradition. It was valued in Kinship. The shared history of people who’d grown up together, raised their kids together, worked together. Generation after generation. Sure, there was new blood every once in a while. And every summer and winter brought with it an influx of strangers looking for fun.

But the foundation was the people who lived and died there.

“Gather round, Bitterroots,” Silas called.

Elton, a scruffy, weathered guy in his forties who could run a forklift and lay pavers in his sleep, gave him a hand with the cooler. He’d arrived after wrapping up the next-to-last day on a hardscape job one town over. “Hell of a place,” he observed.

“That it is,” Silas said.

He heard the sound of a drill biting into wood and spotted her on the porch. Apparently the front door had given up, much like the screen door. Maggie Nichols worked just as hard as any crew member on and off camera. It was a surprise. A pleasant one. And not because he had sexist leanings. His mothers had relieved him and his brother of any of those misconceptions before either of them realized that girls did not, in fact, have cooties.

He’d assumed that since she was the money, since she was the face of her own show, she wouldn’t be the one hauling cabinets out of the kitchen or opening up walls to get at a house’s secrets.

And he’d been damn wrong.

Elton let out a low whistle. “Heard she was a looker.”

“This time they weren’t exaggerating,” Silas agreed.

“You and Michelle on again or off again?” Elton asked.

The fact that Silas was used to the question confirmed he’d let things drag on for far too long. “Off. Permanently this time.”

His friend grunted. “Good timing.”

It hadn’t felt like it a month ago when Silas had looked his sometimes sort of girlfriend of five years in the eye and finally said the words they both needed to hear. He hadn’t known exactly why he felt like he had to do it then and there.

But he was a man who believed in signs. And now things were looking a little more clear.

“Hey, Nichols?” he called out.