Kat’s place had an old outbuilding at the head of the driveway that had once been the kitchen. It got so hot in Charleston during the summer that the early homes had been built with the kitchen separate from the rest. Kat’s had been converted years later into a storage room when a new kitchen was added to the house, but it wouldn’t take much to put her equipment out there. That would be more convenient, especially with the baby, but it wouldn’t be the same.
As she opened the door to her studio, even it felt like its soul was gone. All her work and most of her tools were already packed up and gone. The movers had come the day before to take her bigger pieces of equipment and the giant owl that was too heavy for her to move. Today, she was taking a few last items off the walls and closing up shop.
The final thing, the most important thing, was for her to remove the sign above the shop door. The wooden plaque had been one of the first pieces she’d made when her father gifted her with some basic woodworking tools on her sixteenth birthday. The hand-carved sign had a crescent moon and stars etched around the edges, with a textured background that looked like cumulous clouds once she’d applied the dark oak stain and sealant. In the center were the words Wooden Dreams.
She had made the sign long before the idea of having her own studio developed. Her father had hung it proudly in the house, where it had stayed until after they’d passed and Kat sold her parents’ home. After college, when she’d heard about spaces available at the District, she’d gone down to pick a location and knew exactly where the sign needed to be. It wasn’t her best work, but it was one of her favorites, and Wooden Dreams became the name of her shop.
Looking up at it hanging there now, Kat felt the tears start to come.
Just one more item in the list of things she’d lost over the last few weeks. She’d lost her shop, her artist community, her chance at a family and, apparently, she’d lost her heart to a man too honorable to admit how he felt about her. Altogether, it was almost enough to send her back to the dark place she’d lived in after her parents died. Her little girl was the only thing keeping her going. And a little bit of hope. Hope that Sawyer might change his mind.
At least, if Grandma Ingrid was right to begin with. If she was wrong, then Kat had just given away her heart to someone who had no desire to take it. Either way, she hadn’t heard a peep from Sawyer. Finn had called to let her know he was heading back to China, and Jade had texted her about setting up a date for a baby shower, but other than that, it was like before the baby, when there were no Steeles in her life.
She had to admit life was simpler then. And lonelier. But she loved her daughter’s new family. So at least she had that.
In the empty cavern of the warehouse, the grind of the freight elevator was audible even on the far side where Kat’s studio was located. She didn’t pay much attention to it, though. It was probably another tenant here to load up their dreams and memories into cardboard boxes.
Instead, Kat unfolded her stepladder to take down her sign. On the second step, she couldn’t quite grasp it, so she climbed to the third, which she hated because she felt so unsteady. Thankfully, she was able to hold on to the door frame as she reached up with her other hand to get the sign.
“Whoa,” she said aloud, when the unexpected weight of the freed wooden panel threw off her balance. Her center of gravity was all out of whack because of the baby.
“Easy now,” someone said, and she felt strong hands at her lower back and hip steadying her.
Kat tucked the sign under her arm and looked around to see who was there. To her surprise, it was Sawyer.
“Hand it to me,” he said. “It will make it easier for you to get down.”
She reluctantly passed him the sign and climbed down to the wood plank floors. Once she was on firm ground again, she snatched the sign from Sawyer and turned her back on him to return to her shop. While a part of her was happy to see him after all this time, he was the reason she was packing up today, hovering on the verge of tears.
“Kat?” Sawyer called after her in confusion.
“I appreciate your help in keeping me from falling, but why are you here?” she asked. “I haven’t heard from you since the dinner party for your brother and then you show up out of the blue. It can’t be just to see me or you wouldn’t have waited so long. It must be because of the building. Are you here to make sure I don’t chain myself to the front doors or something?”
Sawyer appeared contrite. He tucked his hands into his pants pockets and looked down at the ground the way he always did when he was thinking. “I’m sorry, Kat.”
She put the sign into the last box she had left in the studio, and then turned around to face him. “Sorry about what? About closing this place down and uprooting everyone and everything I care about? About refusing to tell me how you felt for me, at the critical moment when I had to decide if I wanted to marry your brother? About disappearing off the face of the earth after I turned Finn down, making me wonder if I was crazy or just plain stupid for falling for you?”
He stood there and took every angry word she had to level at him. And when she was done, he reached into his breast coat pocket and pulled out an envelope addressed to her. “I’m sorry for all of it,” he said.
Sawyer held out the envelope until Kat reluctantly took it from him. In the corner the address was imprinted for the District Arts Center. But it wasn’t her District. This was his, with a fancy new logo to go with the new vision. She tore through the logo as she opened the envelope and pulled out the single-page notice inside.
Her eyes quickly scanned what was written, but she kept having to stop and go back because it didn’t make any sense. She couldn’t be reading the words she was reading. Starting back at the top, she went through it word by word, hoping this time she could believe what she saw.
It was an official letter from Sawyer’s development company about the closure today. It stated that they expected to complete the necessary renovations in three months. At that time, any previous tenants who wanted to return to their studio would be grandfathered in to rent it at their current rate. Any new tenants would pay the higher rates.
Kat’s hand began to tremble as she reached the end of the letter, making it hard to read. Espec
ially while her eyes were overflowing with tears. Sawyer was going to fix the place up so it was safe, and let them return. Hilda and Zeke could reopen their studios. They could all do so if they chose to.
It was an incredible compromise and it made her angry that she hadn’t thought of that first. But of course, Sawyer the Strategist had.
“Oh no,” Sawyer said, whipping a pressed handkerchief from his pocket. “You’re crying. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry, Kat. I thought you would be happy.”
She accepted the hankie, pressing it to her eyes and dabbing the tears from her cheeks. “I am happy. It’s just, I don’t know, pregnancy hormones combined with everything else. Ignore the tears.”
Sawyer reached out to wipe a fresh one from her cheek with his thumb. “That’s hard for me to do. I don’t like seeing you cry.”
Kat shook her head. “I can’t help it. What changed your mind about all this?”