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She smiled, watery and wistful.

“The house and everything in it are gone. All I have left is what’s in my heart, but thanks to your photos and Mama’s album, I got your message loud and clear about Hudson.”

Me and a message? I’d have to ask her what that’s all about.

“I came back to Poppy Valley with certain expectations. What I found is so much more and something you’d be proud of. A man who sees me. His family who loves me. And a town that’s showing me grace. I once thought I needed New York and the lights of the big city to be somebody, but I don’t.”

She paused, and I caught the hitch in her voice as she patted the top of her father’s headstone.

“I’m ready to stay. To build something real, right here. So see, this isn’t goodbye after all. It took losing everything, though, to realize what I had right in front of me was what I wanted all along.”

My chest ached in the best kind of way as she wrapped up her visit. I waited for her to join me and I wrapped her in a hug.

“Everything okay now?” I whispered in her ear.

“Yes. I made my peace.”

“Do you think they approve of me, and of us, together?”

“Oh, yes. I have no doubts.” She laced her fingers with mine and we walked hand in hand together to join the others. I wasn’t sure I believed in fate, but damn if it didn’t feel like something bigger had brought her back to me in Poppy Valley.

Eventually, we made our way to Java Co. where Lawson had promised a surprise reveal of his planned mural as a memorial to our brave firefighters.

A group had gathered near the alley, where a fresh tarp hung over a poster on display in front of the brick exterior wall that would eventually be painted. Lawson stood front and center with a proud grin, looking like he’d just landed a major art show.

“All right, y’all,” he called out. “This right here’s my way of honoring my daddy and Paul Andrews. Been working on this with my friend Shelby. Well, she’s not technically a muralist, but she owns the art studio over in Marigold and she’s got some real talent when she’s not drinking wine and painting sunflowers.”

Mama arched a brow. Dawson and Grayson snickered.

Lacey leaned into me and whispered, “Shelby?”

I shrugged. “First I’ve heard of her.”

“Drumroll please,” Lawson demanded, then tugged the tarp down—and I’ll be damned. It was really good.

The sweeping mural depicted two firefighters in silhouette against a golden sunrise, one hand raised as if in farewell, very similar to a photo of Dad in Mama’s bedroom. The other walked hand in hand with a girl child. Lacey dabbed her eyes.

The mural was bold, striking, and full of heart. Man, I was so proud of Lawson. My chest burst, and my face heated, about to cry.

People clapped. Some sniffled. Even Mama dabbed at her eyes again.

Carson was the first to speak for the family. “Brother, I’d be honored to have you paint this on my building.”

Then Lawson turned to the crowd. “There’s a QR code in the corner, too. If you scan it, it links to a donation page for the county first responder fund. I figured Dad would’ve liked that better than just a statue.”

“Now that’s smart,” I said, as he made the rounds, everyone congratulating him. When he reached us, I complimented him on it.“Did you come up with that?”

“Nah,” Lawson muttered. “Shelby’s idea. She’s been the brains behind this with me.”

“Well, Shelby’s got good taste,” Lacey said, then nudged me. “Must run in the family.”

I slid my arm around her waist and squeezed. “You sayin’ I have good taste too?”

“Of course you do.” Lacey kissed me.

Mama’s voice boomed. “Best bring Shelby around for dinner sometime, Lawson.”

His cheeks turned a bright shade of red.