Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2) Read Free

this house yawned before them.
    “Mama?” whispered Jade. “I wanna go home.”
    Samara lifted her up onto her hip, unease creeping over her.
    “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she repeated, to convince herself or Jade, she wasn’t sure.
    “No. It’s dirty.”
    Bob trotted over the threshold into the front room, leaving paw prints in the thick layer of sawdust on the hardwood. A beam of sunshine slanted through the chilly room, highlighting the dust motes hanging in the air, waiting.
    Jade had a point. But she knew it wasn’t the dust that bothered her child as much as the chaos. She craved routine, predictability and order; this was anything but.
    “Looks like things are coming along,” said Tod. He brushed something off his tailored sleeve and walked ahead of her to the next room.
    “Wait.” They weren’t supposed to be coming along . They were supposed to be already there . “You told me it was complete.”
    “Yeah, today’s the date they gave me.”
    She stepped into the small front room, with its wide windows overlooking Collier Avenue to the north. Samara ran the toe of her sneaker over the hardwood, to see the grain beneath, telling herself to stay calm. Polished up, it would be beautiful.
    But on top of it, against the walls, baseboards lay in piles, ready to be nailed into place.
    “This isn’t ready, Tod.” She bit back the stronger words clinging to the tip of her tongue. How long did it take to install baseboards? They still had a couple of days. She was probably overreacting.
    Think positive, Samara. Don’t borrow trouble.
    She imagined a lushly textured carpet being rolled up, so people could dance on that warm, dark wood. Jane Austen, the country-western version.
    It didn’t work.
    The central feature wall should be the proud home of numerous ancestral portraits, she thought with a pang, not their meager family photo collection.
    And she shouldn’t be able to see the drywall tape.
    The ceiling – painted at least – loomed above them, a single bulb dangling from a cord, shining down like a searchlight.
    The brand-new windows still wore their factory stickers, jarring against the old, stripped and as yet unpainted trim.
    These walls, so long neglected, wanted to be filled with friends and family, laughter and love and life and who were they getting? A lonely woman and her odd little girl.
    Samara felt suddenly like she was trying on a princess gown, hoping it would transform her, knowing the whole time that no matter how she stuck out her chest, she couldn’t fill it.
    She pushed away those thoughts and went to find Tod. Whether or not she had second thoughts, the deal had closed. She’d made furniture delivery arrangements based on Tod’s assurances that everything was on track.
    And from what she could see, there was a month of work left.
    *
    Logan Stafford surveyed the mess in the master suite bathroom, shaking his head. His students were in class all morning, giving him time to examine their work and do any necessary fix-ups.
    There were always fix-ups.
    This time, someone had dripped blobs of spackle into the luxurious clawfoot bathtub, then tried to scrape it off. He’d have to get someone in to refinish the surface.
    He guessed the new owners would be arriving soon – the real estate agent’s communication left much to be desired – but everyone knew that house construction rarely came in on time or under budget. His original estimation of being ready for final inspection in a week was off by at least two weeks, probably three. The chances of moving in on schedule were slim to none.
    He examined the millwork on the bathroom cabinets. Original maple, over a hundred years old, and more beautiful than ever. His students had stripped and refinished them, installed new hardware and assisted in the reinstallation.
    Time-line aside, the kids were doing a great job. They’d done their assigned tasks with care and precision, eager to get their shop credit, determined to finish high