Home on Hollyhock Lane

Book 0: Orchard Inn

by Heather McGovern

Genres: Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

One special cottage brings together two fixer-uppers in this delightfully sweet small-town romance.

AAs the youngest of three sisters, CeCe Shipley is eager to make her own space in the world. She even has the perfect place in mind—the cottage on Hollyhock Lane. She’s been saving for years to buy and restore the charming but rundown Craftsman . . . which just sold to someone else! So when the new and irritatingly sexy owner offers to hire CeCe as a historic consultant, she hops at the chance to nudge his plans for a quick-fix renovation into a thoughtful restoration. 

Though Dustin Long has been searching for a sense of home since childhood, that’s not why he bought Hollyhock. He plans to flip the old miner’s cottage and use the money to launch his construction business. And while every reno project comes with unexpected developments, CeCe beats them all—she’s as headstrong as she is gorgeous. But as they collaborate to restore the cottage to its former glory, he realizes they’re also building something new together. Could CeCe be the home Dustin’s always wanted?
 

Release date: November 5, 2024

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 352

Sample

Who do you think will draw first blood?”

Cece Shipley glanced up from her sewing pattern, spread across the floor, to find her sister Aurora looming over her with a knife. “Jeez!” She jerked upright. “Are you trying to give me heart failure?”

“Sorry.” Aurora lowered the knife and blew a strand of loose reddish-blond hair from her forehead. “Chopping onions,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“And?” Cece shook off the scare. They’d all been jumpy lately, in the last months leading up to their oldest sister Beth’s wedding to her dream cowboy, Sawyer Silva.

Aurora imitating a slasher in some horror movie didn’t help.

“I said, who do you think is going to injure themselves first in our quest to pull off the perfect wedding? Me, in the kitchen, creating a dozen different dishes until Beth decides what she wants at the reception or you”—she pointed at Cece with the knife—“cutting fabric and altering Grandma’s old wedding dress?”

“I already poked myself with a needle yesterday, and it bled for five minutes. Does that count?” Cece wondered once again how on earth she was going to modernize a midcentury wedding gown made for their vertically challenged grandmother when Beth was like five-eight.

“Nope, that was yesterday. Any injuries today?”

“Not yet.”

“Then let’s see if we can make it to the end of the day.” Aurora held out her free hand. “Come on.”

Cece pulled both hands protectively to her chest. “What are you going to do to me?” she teased.

“Oh, for the love—” Aurora walked over and placed the knife on the kitchen counter. “I want you to try this homemade dressing for the salads. I can’t tell if it’s got too much kick for the average wedding guest or not enough for the average Texan.”

Cece got to her feet. “Fine, but you owe me a whole salad after scaring me. Not just a bite.”

“Deal.”

“I need to take a break from the dress anyway. I’ve separated the skirt from the bodice, and I know what I’m doing as far as the silhouette of the bottom, but the neckline is still a big ole question mark hanging right about…” Cece waved her hands above her head. “Here.”

Aurora pulled two bowls from the cabinet. “Beth was adamant she didn’t want strapless.”

“Exactly. But I know she doesn’t want the sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves that are on there now.” Cece let her let her head fall back with a sigh. “That only leaves, what? Several dozen other options. This isn’t a pillow or curtains or decorating a living room, all of which I can do in my sleep. This is her wedding dress. I’d rather have too much input than not enough.”

And it was very unlike Beth not to be definitive in her decisions about a wedding. As a wedding planner for the Inn, Beth was the definition of control freak, but with her own wedding she’d been… dare it be called laid-back?

Cece knew Beth’s style because, while she and her sisters were very much alike with their blond hair, ranging from slightly strawberry to flax, and fair skin that burned way too easily, their vibes varied greatly. While Cece might think a flowing, twirly wedding dress with some flounce was perfect and breezy, that was simply not Beth. What if she followed her gut down the wrong path and ruined her sister’s wedding dress?

“Do you feel like Beth has been too relaxed about this whole thing?” Cece asked, taking the offered bowl from her sister. “Especially considering how she usually is?”

“Uh.” Aurora grabbed the blender full of her latest dressing concoction. “You think? I finally got her to decide on multiple food stations versus a plated reception. Just makes the most sense with the inn’s layout and an outdoor service, indoor-and-outdoor mixed reception. But then I asked her about protein and heavy plate options. We’re talking, do you want a carving station? If so, what kind? Do you want seafood plates or a shrimp cocktail station? Chicken skewers? Really, any suggestions about what kind of heavier dishes you want at the reception? She said, and I quote, ‘Whatever you think is best.’”

“I think bringing bossy Beth back is best,” Cece proclaimed.

She and Aurora nodded at each other.

“My thoughts exactly. Whatever I think is best? About her wedding? I got a little lightheaded and had to sit down. Maybe you should ask Sawyer if he’s noticed it too? See if he’d talk to her about it.” Aurora kept mixing her concoction.

Cece shook her head. “Why me?”

“Everyone knows you and Sawyer get along like a house on fire. He treated you like a little sister way before he and Beth even got engaged.”

This was true, but she wasn’t about to rock the boat if she and Aurora were the only ones thinking Beth was acting uncharacteristically laid-back.

“Here.” Aurora held out a taste of the dressing she’d been working on.

Cece took the offered spoon and sat down. “What did you decide about the wedding food then?”

“I haven’t. Are you kidding? I’m not making that call for Beth Persnickety Shipley. I think I will gently suggest a shrimp cocktail, a beef tenderloin carving station, some chicken options, and maybe crudités circulating with the waitstaff, but I’m still going to leave the final approval to her.”

“Clever problem-solving.” Cece winked at her sister before tasting her latest concoction. The dressing had citrus on the front, with a savory flavor overall, and a small bite on the back end. “Oooh, it’s got a little kick. I like that. Is it horseradish?”

“Yeah, too much?”

“No, I love it. It doesn’t linger like using a hot pepper. Just sort of pinches you and then runs away, and you’re left wondering, did someone just run up and pinch me?”

Aurora grinned as she began putting their salads together. “You have a way with words, sis. Maybe I’ll call this Lemon Pinch dressing and serve it at the restaurant.”

“You should definitely call it Lemon Pinch.” Cece smiled.

Aurora was almost at the one-year anniversary of owning her successful restaurant, Lavender, in Fredericksburg. For years, everyone thought she’d make Los Angeles her home, but when she returned to help Beth and Cece turn around their bad luck with the family’s Orchard Inn, it seemed Aurora’s home and heart were still in Texas.

She’d reconnected with her high school sweetheart, Jude, and Cece had never seen her sister so happy.

Both of her sisters had found love, and their lives were moving forward in the best ways, both personally and professionally.

Cece was happy for them, of course, and she loved Jude and Sawyer; they were perfect for her sisters. Still, a tug of longing, or maybe even envy, pulled at her.

She loved love, but life wasn’t as simple as that. Look at their mom. She’d loved their dad and trusted him, but he’d lied, been deceitful enough to embezzle money, and then left his family to deal with the fallout.

Wanting to find love didn’t mean you would, or that the love would be true.

Not that Cece needed a man, because she didn’t.

Right now, her focus was on building a life of her own, something just for her. Her sisters were a blessing, and she loved them dearly, but she wanted something of her own too, apart from her family. Something that was hers alone. For a while, she’d thought that meant a small place, all to herself, but that plan fell through.

Now, she wasn’t sure what having something of her own really meant anymore.

Was it a side hustle in alterations or dressmaking? Doing more in the way of interior decorating since she had a knack? Or maybe it was finding another fixer-upper and finally making her cottage-core dreams come true.

She could see it now, her in a little place in the woods—lots of wildflowers and a small garden. She’d have a cat or two, named something irresistible like Whiskers and Mittens, and she’d read by the fire at night—even though they rarely got weather conducive to needing a fire indoors.

Or maybe the future meant finding that life partner.

Ugh, no. Probably not that.

Looking for Mr. Right? That was so depressing and codependent—way too early 2000s TV show.

No. She liked her independence. To be happy and fulfilled, with a life of her own, was her goal. If, eventually, some great guy fell into her lap, fine.

Regardless, she wasn’t chasing after anyone.

Cece stared down into the salad placed before her.

She’d dated plenty after high school, but for the last couple of years, she’d sworn off the dating apps and the setups from friends. When you’d kissed a few toads, you needed a break from the pond. She hadn’t given up hope, but she wasn’t actively looking either.

If she never met her perfect partner, then so be it. She enjoyed being a one-woman show. It might be nice to have a partner who shared in all of life’s triumphs and failures, that person you longed to see at the end of the day and wake up next to and talk to each morning. And if that person happened to be strapping and strong, kind but no-nonsense, perhaps tall and bearded but definitely yummy smelling, then all the better.

“Um, sis?”

“Huh?” Cece shook her head, pulling herself back into the moment.

“The salad?”

“Right. Salad.” Cece took a bite, letting the crisp textures and full zing of flavors dance on her tongue. “Another winner.” She nodded as she finished the bite. “This is amazing, but you’ll have to call it something fancier if you put it on the wedding menu. I don’t think Lemon Pinch suits a wedding.”

Aurora laughed. “True. Not that this new, laid-back Beth would care.”

“Care about what?” Beth walked into the kitchen from the private entry door with Sawyer right behind her.

“Nothing,” Aurora and Cece said in unison.

“Uh-huh. Sure. What smells so good?” Beth leaned over and sniffed the blender, instantly distracted.

“New salad dressing Aurora just made,” Cece answered.

“Nice.” Sawyer admired their salads.

Aurora pulled her bowl a little closer. “Would you both care for some lunch?”

“I mean, if there’s enough for everyone.” He grinned, ever charming.

“There’s plenty.”

“I’ve got it. Don’t get up.” Sawyer made salads for Beth and himself, and the four of them ate at the kitchen counter.

“This is delicious. For the restaurant or the wedding?” Beth asked between bites.

Aurora shared a look with Cece. “I’m thinking both. If that’s okay?”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

“Have you made a decision on the heavier offerings yet?” Cece tried.

“Oh.” Beth pondered the question, looked to Sawyer, then her sisters, and shrugged. “What do y’all think?”

Sawyer smiled in such a way that Cece knew he’d also noticed how calm she’d been about the wedding proceedings. “I think we can go with chicken, red meat, and a couple of seafood options. Sound good?”

“That sounds great to me.” Beth returned his smile.

“Wonderful.” Aurora made a checkoff motion in the air. “Yay! Done.”

“Now about the dress…” Cece jumped in. “We need to discuss necklines and choose which design you want.”

Beth waved one hand in the air while eating her salad with the other. “Just pick a few options, and I’ll decide which one I like the best out of what you pick.”

Cece considered burying her face in her salad and screaming. Apparently, making two big decisions in one day was too much to ask. “You say that now, but I don’t want you freaking out days before the wedding because the dress isn’t perfect.”

“I’m not going to freak out.”

“Can we get that in writing?”

Sawyer waved his fork in the air to get their attention as he finished chewing. “I’ve seen your work at the shop downtown, Cece. Beth showed me. Your pieces were always good, but wow.”

“It’s gotten better, but I still need to work on my accuracy. It takes me too long to finish a—”

“Cece.” Aurora reached for her water glass. “Accept the compliment. Your work is awesome.”

“Oh.” She looked toward a nodding Sawyer. Her ability to accept praise and recognition without argument was a work in progress. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “I bet if you put together two or three dress ideas, then it’d be easier for Beth to choose between them.”

“That’s a great idea!” Beth perked up.

Sawyer shared a wink with Cece. “I think you’ll find choosing between a few options very helpful. Lately, too many choices equal no choice.”

“Ahhh.” Cece nodded. “Got it.” She ate her salad, visions of dresses twirling around her brain. She did feel a lot more confident in her alterations and dressmaking abilities, but the progress had happened so fast, over the last few months.

After she’d done some sewing for interior design work around the inn, she’d gotten some offers to do alterations on dresses at a local shop. It’d been years since she’d sewn clothing, but once she got back on the bike—or the sewing machine—the skill had come back to her and then some.

But her sister’s wedding dress? That was major league.

She’d sewn several day dresses, hemmed many a skirt and pair of pants. True, she had plenty of time, as long as the alterations weren’t too complicated, but the idea of getting her sister’s wedding dress wrong turned her stomach.

“Anyone want a refill?” Sawyer got up from the island to grab the pitcher of tea. “Oh yeah, did I tell you guys that house at the end of Hollyhock Lane finally sold the other day?”

Cece’s stomach turned even more. “What?”

“The one that’s been for sale forever?” Beth asked.

“Yeah, the one we all walked by a few months ago. I was beginning to think it’d sit at the end of that road and rot, but there’s a sold sign on it now.”

“The little two-bedroom cottage?” Cece asked, her throat dry.

“I don’t know if it’s two bedrooms or—”

“The one with the big porch and wisteria growing on a pergola next to it?”

Her sisters stared as Sawyer blinked at her dismay. “I think so, but I didn’t take that much notice. What am I missing?”

Cece stared at her salad, her heart pounding in her stomach now.

The cottage on Hollyhock Lane. Her dream cottage. That was going to be her cottage.

Well, not really. And not legally. But in her dreams? In her dreams, the house on Hollyhock was her home. Hers to bring to code, hers to renovate, to decorate, and to caretake.

Orchard Inn would always be her family home, but that bungalow was the home of her heart. It had been part of her plan for independence, a life outside of her sisters, her own future.

It had been on the market for years but at a price she could not come close to affording. Knowing that someday it’d be sold or otherwise go into foreclosure, she’d saved for years and worked on her credit score. Still, when she’d gone to a mortgage broker months ago, the response hadn’t been good. She was denied based on income. Apparently, part-time alterations work and working for your family’s inn weren’t the reliable sources of finances for repayment a bank wanted.

“Cece.” Aurora touched her arm, drawing her from her thoughts. “Is that the—?”

“Yes.” Cece put her fork down. She’d lost her appetite.

She’d told her sisters of her dream, and while they hated the idea of her not living at Orchard Inn full-time, they’d supported her goals and understood her need to have something all her own.

Then again, maybe they knew, deep down, it was never going to be.

“I’m sorry, Cece,” Beth said.

Aurora rubbed her arm. “Me too.”

“Oh.” Sawyer’s voice lifted with the realization. “You wanted to buy that house?”

“I did. I even tried, but I couldn’t. Buying takes money, and a lot more of it than I have.”

“But, Cece, I could’ve—”

She shook her head, stopping him mid-sentence. She knew what he was about to stay. He could’ve helped, and he would’ve too, because he had treated Cece like family from the day they met. Sawyer would’ve swooped in, loaned her the money, or cosigned the mortgage, or given her the down payment to be repaid whenever—whatever it took. That’s just the kind of guy Sawyer was.

But that wasn’t the point of her Hollyhock dreams. The act of suddenly having it was not what she wanted. This was supposed to be all hers, alone, from start to finish: the saving and getting a loan, the purchase, and the remodeling. The blood, sweat and tears—all hers—were part of the plan.

“I’m going to get some air.” She pushed away from her lunch.

“Cece,” Beth called after her.

“It’s okay. Really. I just need to get out and clear my head. Go for a walk or something.”

“Are you sure?” Aurora asked. “One of us could go with you.”

That was the opposite of what she wanted. She needed to be alone.

“No, y’all finish lunch. You know me; I’ll be fine.” She wanted fresh air, nature, and silence, only her thoughts while she processed a dream lost. Sure, she’d known she couldn’t buy the place soon, but in the back of her mind, she’d held out hope that if the cottage sat there long enough, empty, she’d have enough time to save more. She’d get the opportunity to show regular, steady income. Then she’d go right into a bank and sign for her new home.

Cece slid on her worn-out walking shoes and told the others goodbye. She headed out the back of the inn, through the entrance only family and friends used. From the back of the inn, she could cut through the low, sloping hills of the orchard that made up the family’s farm.

Out front, they had a small section of plum trees, but the rest was all peaches.

Acres of peaches.

The Shipley sisters owned one of the smallest farms in Hill Country, but they still grew enough to sell to a few local vendors and markets. The busy season was over, summer had wound down, and fall was just around the corner.

Cece made her way up and over the rolling hills. The leaves of their orchard had barely begun to shift from a sea of green to the slightest touches of yellow, but the Texas heat still reigned supreme. Actual cool fall weather didn’t hit Fredericksburg until late October or November. A person could easily work up a sweat while trick-or-treating.

Still, the subtle changes in foliage, the occasional afternoon breeze that wasn’t heavy with humidity, lifted her spirits a smidge.

Most folks took walking for granted, but most folks had never had that ability jeopardized. Born with palsy, albeit a very mild case, independent walking wasn’t a certainty for her. Surgeries and years of physical therapy gifted her with mobility. She didn’t take a single step for granted.

Maybe that’s why she loved her walks so much. She didn’t want to let her luck ever go to waste, almost like if she didn’t use it, she might lose it. Some would probably find that fear silly, but most had never walked in her shoes.

Walking was emotional therapy too. The action cleared her mind; being in nature brought perspective. She might not have her cottage, but she had this. Her hidden trails and pathways across the fields and meadows of her hometown. Most people didn’t know about the back way to her cottage.

Correction. The cottage. It didn’t belong to her.

With her general knowledge of the local layout, she’d blazed her own path from the back of Orchard Inn, down the side of a pasture, through a little neighborhood, and onto the winding drive of Hollyhock Lane.

Was some of this journey technically trespassing? When she started taking this path… kind of. At least the pasture part. But she’d met the family who bought the farm, and one day, eventually, she’d mentioned her walks. The owners had said it was fine, and Cece had taken it as permission granted.

She reached the edge of her family’s orchard, found the little cut-through, and followed it. The cut spat her out in the pasture that ran the length of Rolling Hills Farm.

A couple had bought the land a few years back and slowly, over the last year and change, started a rehabilitation and recovery farm. Not only did they take older, injured, or unwanted domestic animals—everything from cats to cows—they provided support for people rehabilitating to visit or work the farm as part of a program.

Rolling Hills was still in its early stages, but it already had a wonderful reputation in the community, and Cece had met a family of goats when she’d met the couple who ran the farm. She wasn’t sure who was more lovable between the two.

Through the tall grass of the pasture she went, hugging the dense tree line, keeping to the shade. The sky was mostly cloudy, but she was still the fairest-complexioned Shipley. The wind kicked up for a moment, rustling the trees and taller grass, and she considered turning back, in case a storm was coming. But even if a storm was missed by the forecast, it would be hours away.

She only needed another half hour, enough time to see the cottage one last time and then head back home.

Once at the end of the pasture, she hung a right onto a ro. . .