Nessa nodded along to the lyrics in her head that said she’d gotten lost in the world and couldn’t remember who she was. She looked to her left at Flynn, and then to her right at her other cousin. April had been right. All three of them were broken—maybe in different ways, but broken all the same—and they were products of what had gone on in this house years ago.

Jackson used a piece of sandpaper wrapped around a block of wood instead of an electric sander to put the finishing touch on what he built. It gave him better control, and his pieces never had the swirls that a sander could cause. He’d been working on a hope chest to take to the next craft fair and thinking about the law firm he’d left behind five years ago. He’d never had a single regret, but here, lately, he’d found himself wishing for someone other than Tex to talk to during the long stretches between craft fairs, or when someone drove out to his place to pick up a piece of furniture.

He cocked his head to one side. Footsteps were approaching his shop, yet Tex hadn’t barked. Thinking it might be a customer, Jackson waved over his shoulder. When he reached the other end of the hope chest, he laid the block of wood down and turned around.

“Hello, I’m Flynn O’Riley,” the guy standing in the doorway said.

Jackson removed his work glove and stuck out a hand. “Jackson Devereaux. You’re Miz Lucy’s grandson, right?”

“That’s right.” Flynn had a good strong handshake. “My two cousins and I are living in Nanny Lucy’s house.”

“Welcome to Blossom.” Jackson dropped Flynn’s hand. “There’s only two places out here by Hope Creek, so it’s a small neighborhood. What brings you out this way?”

“Well, I figure Nanny Lucy talked about us enough that you know the basics of why we’re in Blossom. But for today, I’ve been up in the attic all afternoon,” Flynn said, “and needed to take a walk and stretch my legs, so I came over to thank you for taking care of Waylon for us.”

“You’re welcome,” Jackson responded. “Mind if I work while we talk?”

“Not at all,” Flynn answered. “I should be going anyway.”

“Don’t rush off,” Jackson said. “What were you doing in the attic?”

“I’m rewiring the place so we can have air conditioners,” Flynn said.

Jackson picked up the block with sandpaper wrapped around it. “Y’all will appreciate that. This is just the beginning of summer, and we’ve already had temperatures up in the midnineties. It’s going to be a hot one for sure.”

“Amen!” Flynn focused on what Jackson was doing. “What are you working on?”