Page 26 of Meet Me at Sunset Cove (Jonathon Island #5)

Chapter Eleven

I t really was perfect.

Daisy slouched back against the wall, staring again at the finished staircase. Her hands wrapped around a warm cup of caramel apple macchiato as she planned out her next steps.

The projects Hunter had agreed to were nearly done. The porch was finished, and the exterior had a fresh coat of paint, giving the house some much-needed curb appeal. The foyer had new wallpaper, refinished floors and stairs, and a piece of signature Barrett woodworking for the banister.

All they needed now was updated lighting, and then it would be ready for staging.

Daisy glanced around the house. There was still so much she wanted to do.

Her eye caught on the gaping hole above the sunroom door. The walls had been cleaned, the floor refinished, but Daisy hadn’t asked again to work on that room. Not after Hunter had told her what it meant to him.

But that transom…

She wondered.

Daisy set down her coffee cup and pushed to her feet before making her way toward the back of the house. She stepped into the old kitchen, pausing on her search to admire the potential of the space.

Daisy had done her share of snooping since they’d started the project. She’d seen every room, imagined the renovations she could do, all the ways she could turn this place from a house to a home for someone. She had a lot of ideas for the kitchen.

She’d move the island to make room for two between the oven and sink. Update the cabinets to be large enough to hide away appliances. Add space to sit around the counter. A place for kids to gather. A handcrafted pantry door made by this local woodworker she knew…

That’s what she’d do.

If it were hers.

Daisy let out a quiet sigh and turned, her gaze catching on the windows that overlooked the backyard, her eyes following a recently worn path through the grass, leading to the weather shed tucked away at the edge of the property.

Bingo.

Hunter’s workshop.

The door creaked as she pushed it open, the scent of sawdust and varnish enveloping her.

Daisy’s eyes widened as she took in the organized chaos of Hunter’s workspace.

Tools lined the walls, wood scraps were neatly stacked in corners, and various projects in different stages of completion leaned against corners and surfaces.

Daisy’s fingers traced over piles of abandoned projects, delicately searching through them without luck.

Dust floated in the air as she rustled through canvas and shifted stacks of wood.

And then her eyes caught on a large cloth-covered object sitting on a stack of window casing, tucked behind a storage cabinet.

Daisy approached it and gently lifted the dusty cloth. Her breath caught as she revealed a corner of stained glass, its colors muted by years of concealment but still unmistakably beautiful.

With trembling hands, she pulled the cloth away completely, revealing the transom window in its entirety. The intricate pattern of browns and greens mimicked the roots of an ancient tree, telling a story of the Barrett family.

“Oh, Hunter,” she whispered, imagining a younger version of him rescuing the window after the fire that had left his family in pieces. She could see him carefully wrapping it up, tucking it away. Just in case.

Daisy’s throat ached as her fingers ghosted over the delicate glasswork. This window belonged back in the house. Back where it could bring light and beauty to the sunroom again.

Daisy glanced at her watch. She still had time before Hunter arrived back from work.

Quickly, she gathered the supplies she’d need—a hammer and nails. Wood glue. A level. The old window casing piled beneath the glass—and transferred them inside, next to a ladder. And then finally, she slipped the window from its hiding place and carried it inside.

* * *

In all her years of design, Daisy had likely installed dozens of transoms all by herself. So why was it that this one seemed absolutely determined to give her trouble?

Daisy set the level down on the sash again and watched the bubble slide past the little lines. She dropped her head onto her arms resting on the ladder. It was mocking her.

“Come on, Daisy. Pull it together,” she muttered as she started in again, adjusting the sash one more time before setting it with nails and climbing down. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she carefully lifted the glass insert. It was heavier than she’d expected.

Balancing on the ladder, Daisy summoned all of her upper body strength and slowly lifted the glass into the window. Her arms trembled as she ran her fingers along the outer edge, pushing it into place.

Just as she thought she had the window aligned correctly, her phone began to vibrate in her back pocket. Daisy paused, pressing her fingertips to balance the glass as she slipped the phone out and placed it atop the ladder. Her finger hovered over the answer button and stopped.

Mom.

Daisy froze, her heart suddenly racing.

Her fingers trembled as she struggled to keep pressure against the glass.

What would she say? ‘Hey, Mom, sorry it’s been months since I last called. My life imploded and I’m just really swamped right now. But don’t worry. I have a plan.’

Yeah. No.

Not yet.

Daisy turned her attention back to the task at hand, letting the call go to voicemail.

The phone shifted, the vibrations buzzing it closer to the edge.

Daisy’s eye caught on the phone as it tipped, and she instinctively reached for it.

In that split second of distraction, her hand caught on the sharp edge of the metal framing the glass. She jerked back reflexively, losing her grip on the window.

Time seemed to slow as Daisy watched the stained glass tip from its frame. The beautiful blues and greens that had been hidden away for so long now sparkled in the sunlight for one brief, terrible moment before gravity took hold.

The crash was deafening in the quiet house. Shards of colored glass scattered across the floor.

No. Oh no…

* * *

The air smelled like snow.

Hunter sucked in a deep breath, savoring the chill as he stepped off the ferry.

He’d always loved the late fall, the anticipating that came with cold.

The weather report had predicted the first snowfall of the season later that day—a little late in the year for them, but a welcome sight now that the exterior updates on the front of the house were done.

He glanced at his watch and winced at the pang of guilt for leaving early again, though it was short-lived. Renovations on the house would slow down soon, and he could catch up on work. Soon.

Ahead of him, the town was already buzzing with pre-Thanksgiving energy, despite it still being a few weeks away.

The first snow had always had a way of sending everyone’s holiday jitters into a flurry, and the modest decor that had peppered storefronts a week ago had now been ramped up into full turkey shrines and pumpkin memorials in every nook and cranny in sight.

As he made his way toward Sunset Cove, Hunter nodded greetings to the familiar faces throughout town.

Linda Issacson arranged a cornucopia in the window of Doug’s Market, displaying their Thanksgiving specials.

Farther down, Fred Miller straightened a leafy wreath hanging on the front door of Miller Antiques.

Jill stood out in front of Good Day Coffee, stringing cranberries and popcorn around her sidewalk sign.

“Those are Christmas decorations, Jill,” Hunter teased as he passed.

“They’re multi-purpose!” she called after him.

Hunter chuckled. The sight of the town flourishing for the first time in years filled him with a sense of pride and gratitude. They had so much to be thankful for this year. The newly opened realty office, with Mia’s art covering the walls, stood as a testament to the island’s growth.

Hunter’s gaze fell on the empty storefront near the end of the street, and he thought back on Seb’s request for his dad to bring his business back to the island…

They could even work out of the house once it was finished.

He pushed the thought away.

No sense in dwelling on things he couldn’t make happen.

Daisy flashed in his mind. Her easy smile. Her bubbling laughter.

Really?

That was different , he lied to himself.

He turned onto the hill and began his ascent.

The trees, now bare, gave an extended preview of the lake view as he neared the end of the path.

The gray skies made the lake look like used paint-water, sinking from clear to dark against the shores.

To his right, as he emerged from the trees, the house stood waiting for him. Daisy was waiting for him.

He crossed the porch and reached for the door just as a thunderous crash broke from inside the house.

“Daisy?” His heart leaped into his throat, pounding hard as he flung open the door. “Are you okay?”

Hunter stopped in his tracks, trying to make sense of the scene that greeted him in the parlor. Daisy knelt amid a sea of shattered glass, her hands trembling as she tried to gather the pieces, blood dripping from her palm.

“Daisy!” He was across the room in an instant, his boots cracking over broken glass as he reached for her. “What happened? You’re hurt.”

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice watery, her gaze still fixed on the shards of blue and green across the floor.

“You’re not okay,” Hunter said. He reached for her hand, gently examining the cut. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He rose, ignoring the glass as he helped her to her feet. Briefly, his eyes swept over the scene, and recognition dawned as he saw the picture fully. The old transom window. He let out a breath.

Oh, Daisy.

“Come on,” he said, leading her away.

Hunter cracked open a bottle of water and guided her hand over the sink as he poured it over the wound. Her hand trembled while he tended the cut, and he glanced at her, tried to duck into her line of vision.

“Daisy.”

She sniffed, turning her face away.

“Daisy,” he said softly, reaching for a clean towel to pat her hand dry. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

She sniffed again, lifting her other hand to brush a tear away, and Hunter broke. “Please, Daisy.”

Finally, she peeked over her shoulder, her eyes brimming with tears as she let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Hunter frowned. Did…did she really think he was angry at her? “Because of the window?”

A fat tear spilled to the dusty floor. “I just wanted to do something for you…I know how much that room means to you.”

Oh.

“Hey, now,” he said, stepping closer as his hands brushed her arms. He tried again to duck into her line of vision, but she’d gone back to avoiding his gaze. “It’s just a window, Daisy. It’s fine.”

But she shook her head. “No, it’s not. I feel like such a…such a failure.”

The pain in her voice cut through Hunter like a knife. He opened his mouth to reassure her, but before he could speak, Daisy leaned forward, dropping her forehead against his chest with a heavy thud. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Hunter’s arms immediately encircled her. One hand cradling the back of her head, his fingers brushing gently over her hair, while the other pulled her in tighter. He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt, but he didn’t care.

“Listen to me, Daisy,” he said softly, his chin resting on top of her head. “You are not a failure. Not even close. That window? It’s replaceable. You’re not.”

He held her close, letting her cry against him, offering silent support and comfort. After a few moments, he felt her breathing start to even out.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “Do you hear me? I don’t care about some old window. I care about you.”

Slowly, Daisy lifted her head from his chest, her red-rimmed eyes looking for reassurance. Hunter cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the remnants of her tears.

Oh boy, the lines were getting so blurry.

“Come on, I’ll clean up the glass. You take a break,” he said, stepping back.