Peep. Peep. Peepppeeeppppeeeep. The cardboard box jiggled slightly as the two women approached it. Ivy lifted the lid and pointed at the chickens, who were pecking at the feed in their dish. “That’s Shirley, and that’s Laverne. They’re Buff Orpingtons. Those two in the corner, that’s Thelma and Louise, and they’re Araucanas. They’re supposed to lay eggs that are blue-green.”

“So cute,” Phoebe said. “But you’re right. They’ve totally outgrown this crate. I think we’d better go take a look at their new house.”

Ivy gazed up at Phoebe, who was perched on a ladder beside the chicken coop. “What do you think?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” her friend reported. “There are some rotted support beams up here, but I can replace those. The main thing is that doggone mimosa tree just pushed its way up through the tin roof and peeled it back like the lid on a sardine can. I think once I cut the tree down, we can probably repair the roof.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Ivy said, once her friend was back on the ground. “I was afraid I’d have to hire someone to build me a whole new coop.”

Phoebe patted the coop’s weathered siding. “Nah. These old farm buildings were made to last. We can fix this girl up good as new again.”

By noon, the mimosa tree had been sawed into neat logs and stacked at the edge of the farmhouse and Ivy had managed to conquer her fears of heights and power tools. Under Phoebe’s tutelage, she sawed and nailed and screwed until her gloved hands were dotted with blisters and her back ached from climbing up and down ladders.

The two women were sitting on the porch steps, enjoying a lunch break, when the black Jeep pulled up in the driveway. Phoebe nudged Ivy. “Looks like the House Hunk is making house calls again.”

As soon as Ezra Wheeler stepped out of his vehicle, Punkin bounded up to greet him, tail wagging, with a series of short, gleeful barks.

“Hey there!” Ezra called as he approached the porch. “Sounds like you’ve got a construction crew working. I could hear the chain saws from down at my place.”

The real estate agent was dressed in worn jeans, a quilted jacket, and work boots. His beard was scruffy and his butterscotch hair ruffled in the light breeze.

“Ooh. Loving the sexy lumberjack look,” Phoebe whispered.

“Stop!” Ivy said. She stood up, dusting off the seat of her own jeans.

“Hi, Ezra,” Ivy said. “Phoebe volunteered to help me rebuild the chicken coop.”

“I know you,” Ezra said, reaching out to shake Phoebe’s hand. “You work at the courthouse, right?”

“That’s right,” Phoebe said. “I see you whenever you come in to do a title search. I’m Phoebe Huddleston.”

“What can I help you with, Ezra?” Ivy asked.

“Not a thing. I’m just being a nosy neighbor. Like I said, I heard all the sawing and thought I’d check it out. I’m at loose ends today. You ladies need a hand?”