“I think we should eat outside if we can,” Presley said.

“I’ll hunt around for a tablecloth,” Carrie said.

“What can I do to help?” Abby said.

Presley shook her head. “Not a thing. Relax, I’m sure you need it after this crazy week.”

“Sitting out here has done more for my mental health than anything I can think of in a long time,” Abby said. “If you don’t need me for a few minutes, though, I think I’ll take a walk.”

“Go ahead,” Presley said. “There are no rules or have-tos out here.”

Abby laughed. “That is definitely unique and different.”

When Presley and Carrie disappeared inside, Abby strolled across the yard to the driveway and down a gentle slope toward the barn. Fenced pastures surrounded it, empty of animals now, but she could imagine animals grazing in them sometime in the not too distant past and imagined it wouldn’t be long before some did again. The fences were still in reasonable repair, although here and there a post had tilted and a horizontal crosspiece had fallen out. The barn itself was weathered, with peeling red paint, but still sturdy looking. A section of the slate roof spelled out 1896 in various contrasting colors. NYC was the palace of the new and shiny. Out here, it seemed, history infused everything, from the hospital to the homes. She’d spent most of her life in the city, Blake all of his. Would they forever be outsiders here?

Abby reminded herself Presley and Carrie were newcomers, and they’d found their places. She and Blake would do the same.

She followed the sounds of construction around the back to the barn. Harper, Flannery, Glenn, and Blake were surrounded by sheets of plywood, coils of chicken wire, a plethora of tools, and a pair of sawhorses piled with lumber. Blake wore a pair of leather work gloves and plastic goggles someone must’ve lent him and a fierce look of concentration as he held a board in place while Flannery drove nails into it with a power gun. The pop-pop of the nails shooting into wood had Abby’s stomach flipping in a rapid somersault. She told herself not to create disaster scenarios and waited until they had the board secured in place before advancing into the construction zone. She didn’t want to distract anyone at a critical moment.

“How’s it going?” she asked brightly.

Activity stopped and everyone looked at her as if she were an alien who had just landed in a great big silver spaceship.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

“Super.”

Apparently she should be able to tell the state of affairs by looking. She studied the tall rectangular structure that Blake and Flann were attaching to the back side of the barn while the others waited with expectant expressions. Harper and Glenn appeared to be the design engineers, measuring, cutting, and directing where various pieces would go. She cocked her head and studied it. “It looks like a giant birdcage.”

Blake grinned. “It’s a chicken coop, Mom.”

Abby frowned, seeing only a big empty space. “Where’s the coop part?”

“Once we get the enclosure predator-proof, we’ll bring over one of the old coops,” Harper said. “With a little work, the coop will be fine. What’s important is that the flock is protected at night while they’re sleeping.”

Abby glanced around. On a small knoll fifty feet away, the gimpy rooster strutted around, pecking at the ground. “Flock?”

“Patience,” Glenn said slowly, her voice slow and sensuous.

Abby could imagine her singing the blues, spinning tales of heartbreak and betrayal. Something about Glenn spoke of sadness and sorrow, but perhaps she just misread her reserved nature for something more. Abby smiled. “Aha. I see chickens in the future. Hence the need for the coop.”

Harper grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

“I’m sure.” Abby was certain the surprise would be welcome. Presley seemed very fond of the rooster, of all things. “I’ll get out of your way, but at the risk of sounding like an overly protective mother, I don’t want Blake using power tools.”

Blake groaned. His expression suggested he’d never seen her before and couldn’t possibly be the person in question.

Abby shrugged. She could tolerate being temporarily disowned if it kept him safe.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Flann said. “I never use power saws and I’m the only one manning the nail gun.”

“Yeah,” Blake said. “I’m just the grunt.”

Just a grunt. Blake didn’t seem the least bit upset by that prospect. In fact, he looked like he was having more fun than she’d seen in weeks, possibly months. A glimmer of hope surged. Maybe this move would be all right after all.

“All right—everybody be careful and have fun.” Abby waved and headed back toward the house, slowing when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned as Flann jogged toward her.

“Blake is the youngest on the job,” Flann said. “That means all the scut work and the grunt work.”

“I understand. There’s a hierarchy.” Abby brushed a lock from her eyes as the breeze picked up and played havoc with her hair.

Flann nodded. “Yep. You have to be an apprentice before you can get to the good stuff.”

“How is he doing?” Abby didn’t want to say Blake had never done anything like this before. Life was filled with first times now.

“Studying everything like it’s brain surgery and he’ll be operating alone tomorrow.”

She smiled. “He rarely does anything lightly.”

“He’s doing fine. And he isn’t doing anything that’s dangerous. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’m probably being overprotective.” Abby sighed, grateful to Flann for taking the time to reassure her and feeling just the tiniest bit foolish for worrying. “A few bumps and bruises aren’t going to hurt him. I just don’t want any missing parts.”

“Listen, you have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Flann said with surprising insight. “I know what can happen and how quickly. I can’t afford to get hurt, neither can Harper or Glenn, and we sure wouldn’t let Blake do anything dangerous.”

“I trust your judgment, but he’s my son.”

“Totally understood. But I hope you trust us, because we’ve got quite a lot of work to do around here and he’s already volunteered to help out again.”

“I see.” She pursed her lips, pretending to consider. Secretly she was thrilled that Blake was making connections. “Free labor.”

Flann grinned. “Everybody starts at the bottom, right?”

“Oh, I know.” She’d been trained in the same hierarchical structure as Flann, where the lowest understood their position and counted on one day reaching the top. Then those who followed would take care of the scut work. “If he’s having fun, I’m more than happy for him to spend some time working with you. Thanks for teaching him the right way to do things.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Or any of us. He’s a good worker and a nice kid. And we can use the help.”

“He needs something to do, and needs to interact with people other than me.” She exhaled softly, ambushed momentarily by Flann’s sweat-soaked T-shirt clinging to her surprisingly broad shoulders and sculpted chest. “There’s more to life than what I can teach him, and so many things here that I don’t know anything about. I can’t help him with those things.”

“It seems to me you’re doing a fine job. He’s friendly, smart, polite, with a good sense of humor. That’s a lot to say for a teenager.”

“I know. But he’s also spent a lot of time alone.” Abby studied Flann, unveiled some of her secrets. “And he’s vulnerable. I appreciate you looking out for him.”

“My pleasure.” Flann rubbed a trickle of sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm.

Abby followed the sweep of her bare forearm, caught by the way her sun-burnished skin gleamed over taut muscles. She resisted the sudden urge to thumb away a smudge of dirt on Flann’s cheek. Flann had a way of capturing her attention when she wasn’t being careful. Even worse, the way Flann said pleasure sounded as if she meant something far more intimate than simply befriending Abby’s son on a sunny afternoon in the summer, and the idea stirred her. She needed to escape, away from Flannery Rivers and her unexpected sensitivity and sexy…everything.

“I’ve got to help Presley,” Abby said, backing away.

Flann sensed the fast retreat and wondered what she’d said to cause Abby to run. They’d been having an easy conversation, a real conversation, about something that mattered, and the connection had felt good. Warm and solid and…good. Hell, if either of them should have reason to run, it was her. She’d been so busy reassuring Abby Blake would be in good hands, she’d forgotten all about charming her. A conversation without flirting was just not her style.

“I’ll see you at supper,” she called to Abby’s retreating form. Abby didn’t answer and Flann was left without a follow-up line. That never happened either. She hadn’t even thought to comment on how great Abby looked. Abby’s body did amazing things for simple shorts and cotton shirts, and the way her hair caught on the wind and tangled around her face made Flann think of how she’d look in bed, leaning over, face flushed… “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Rein in your hormones.”

Ignoring the sudden burn low in her belly, she stomped back to join the others. Harp gave her a questioning look and a raised eyebrow. She shook her head. “All good.”

Flann welcomed the physical labor to keep her mind off Abby, who she didn’t want to be thinking about, and Carrie, who had neatly avoided the topic of a date the night before at the game. She’d be better off not thinking about women at all, although she doubted that was possible. She grabbed the nail gun and focused on pounding in nails.

They worked another hour, racking together the external enclosure, stapling up chicken wire, and making sure nothing could get in by digging under. Before they put up the final side, they dragged one of the old coops around from the far side of the barn, hoisted it up on a couple of cement blocks, replaced some broken boards, and covered the old shingled roof with a new square of tin. When they were done, it was waterproof and could house half a dozen chickens plus the damn rooster. They could close the doors up if they needed to or leave them open and let the chickens roam within their enclosure until they were freed in the morning.

“How come you don’t just close them in the coop at night?” Blake stuffed his work gloves in the back pocket of his jeans and drained a bottle of water. “Then you wouldn’t need the outside fence.”

“We could do that,” Flann said. “But then the rooster would start making a fuss at dawn wanting to get out and wake up the hens and everybody else within a mile. This way they’ve got a yard they can peck around in until we’re ready to let them free range. It’s safer for them and easier on us.”

“How come they don’t run away when you let them out?”

“Wait’ll you see how they get used to their routine.” Flann piled wood scraps on the ATV. “Get the hammer and nail gun for me, will you.”

Blake grabbed them and carried them over.

“They know where their roost is,” Flann said as she packed the rest of the tools. “When the sun goes down, they’ll start coming home. And once they get used to being fed in the morning, every time they see you they’ll come running.”

“When are we gonna go get the chicks?” Blake asked.

Flann looked at Harp. “What’s your timetable for the big surprise, boss?”

“I think Margie wants to be along when we pick them out.” Harp glanced at the sky and checked her watch. “Looks like the storm is going to hold off. We could go now and still make it back in time for dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Flann noticed Blake perk up when Margie’s name was mentioned. The kid would probably like someone his own age to hang around with after spending the day with them. “You want to go along, Blake?”

Blake looked from Harp to Flann, uncertainty and eagerness chasing each other across his face. “Could I?”

“Sure, unless you want to stay here and hang out.”

Blake stared at Flann. “Is that a test?”

“Actually, no. Your mom and Presley and Carrie are pretty cool.”

“Yeah, they are,” Blake said. “But I’d rather help pick out chickens.”

Flann laughed. “Go tell your mom you’re coming with us, but wait—don’t tell her why.”

Glenn said, “I’ll hang up at the house. There’s not going to be enough room in the truck anyhow.”

“Oh,” Blake said, disappointment darkening his gaze. “I can stay here then.”

“Not a problem,” Glenn said. “Really, I’ve seen plenty of chickens.”

Blake glanced at Flann eagerly. “Two minutes. I’ll meet you at the truck.”

He took off running.