Blue Hollow Falls Read online

  “And we’ve still got mulberry trees around,” Addie put in. “Fortunately, the Hartwells had other business interests back then, so they survived the mill closing, though there was a span of time when none of them lived here. The other town properties passed down to family members who, a generation or two later, like the Hartwells, slowly came back up to the Hollow for one reason or another. Usually hardship in their own families. They started farming the land again. Apple trees mostly. But corn, too. And cows, chickens, sheep, and the like. Subsistence farmers, most of them, back then, but shops began opening up again in town to service those folks, and little by little Blue Hollow Falls came back. Different from before, but home to folks who love it up here and appreciate its history, too. A surprising number of them are direct descendants of the first settlers. I was born here, as was my daddy before me, and his daddy before him, and on back. Not an original settler, but close to it.”

  “Back at the courthouse, when they were reading through the will, it said you were a weaver by occupation,” Sunny said. “So, does that mean you weave silk?”

  Addie chuckled, shook her head. “No, honey, not that. I do work with fibers though, mostly wool, but some other things mixed in, too. I spin my own fiber, dye it, rack it, bundle it.”

  “So, you sell the fiber then, or—”

  “I do, yes. Got my own website now and everything.” At Sunny’s lifted eyebrows, Addie cackled a hoarse laugh, and added, “We’re backward in some ways, but we can change with the times. Especially if that means we get to keep our way of living. I am a weaver by trade. Rugs mostly. I sell those, too.”

  “Addie is being modest,” Sawyer said, then chuckled. “So unlike her.” She gave his booted foot a bop with the bottom of her cane, but he went on, saying, “She’s what is known as a master weaver. Her work is incredible. And over the past fifteen years or so, she’s convinced a handful of other crafters and makers to relocate up here. We’re becoming something of an artisan community. Which brings us to the renovation.” He gestured up at the building. “Addie got to thinking that it would make sense if, rather than each crafter being responsible for finding their own way to market their wares to the world beyond the Hollow, maybe they should join forces.”

  “Well, we’ve already done that.” She extended her hand to Sunny. “Meet the founder and current president of the Bluebird Crafters Guild.” Then she let out a cackling laugh and spread her arms. “Such as it is!”

  Sunny shook Addie’s hand slowly, then looked back up at the mill. “So, you’re not restoring this to a functioning mill.”

  “Oh, no, child,” Addie said. “This town doesn’t have need of a mill any more now than it did a hundred years ago.” She looked up at the building, pride shining in her eyes. “This is going to be an artisan center.”

  Sunny looked at Sawyer. “I thought you said this was your home.”

  “For the time being, it is.”

  “We’re envisioning it as a place for the locals to sell their wares,” Addie explained, “but also as workshop space, and classroom space. We’d like it to be something of a destination for other artisans, as well as a marketplace for folks to come purchase our creations, see the historic mill, learn a little history, enjoy the local scenery.”

  Any further discussion on that topic ended when the saws and hammering suddenly ceased, leaving only the music and the sound of the falls filling the air. A moment later, the door was dragged open from the other side and a lanky adolescent stepped out. “Hey, Sawyer,” said the boy, his voice soft, but cracking slightly. “Pa says they’re ready for you to come help with the support beam.” He looked somewhat shyly at the two newcomers and gave them a brief nod, then smiled at Addie Pearl. “Hi, Miss Addie. Thanks for the sandwiches. And the apple. You didn’t have to—”

  “I know Jacob. That’s why I enjoy doing it. Introduce yourself,” she said, nodding to Bailey and Sunny.

  His cheeks flushed, but he turned, nodded to the two girls. “Jacob McCall,” he said, then glancing at Bailey, he added, “Jake. Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Sunny Goodwin,” Sunny replied, smiling at the boy.

  “Bailey,” said Bailey, when Jake continued looking her way. “Sutton,” she added when he didn’t say anything, just kept staring. She gestured to the building. “Do you live in there, too?”

  Jake looked surprised by the question. “No. We live down in town. Our place is out past the post office.”

  “Oh.”

  When nothing else was forthcoming, Jake shuffled his feet, and finally turned to Sawyer. “What should I tell Pa?”

  Sawyer looked at his watch. “Tell him we’ll get to it tomorrow. He can send everyone home, then you guys can pack up and head out, too.” He laid a hand on Jake’s skinny shoulder and smiled reassuringly. Jake was a hard worker for a youngster, and stronger than his gangly body would lead one to believe. He was twelve going on thirteen and awkward, which just compounded his tendency to quietness. “It’s about that time, anyway.” It wasn’t quite four o’clock yet, and the truth of it was, Sawyer had hoped to be much further along as they headed toward colder weather. Getting that central support beam up was key to their plan. But then he hadn’t been expecting this little family gathering, either. Or the family itself. “I appreciate you helping your father out after school, but I’m sure you’ve got a pile of homework waiting.”

  “Yes, sir, I do. I’ll tell Pa. See you tomorrow, then.” With a brief glance and nod to the three women, he slipped back inside the building.

  Sawyer glanced at Sunny and Bailey. “At least now you can get your first look without needing earplugs.” A moment later, the music shut off, and he let out a short sigh of relief. Despite the way he was pushing everyone on the renovation, he’d be lying if he said his favorite part of the day wasn’t when silence fell once again. After a few very active tours of duty, he’d never take the luxury of peace and quiet for granted again. He turned to usher them inside, and had just opened his mouth to warn the two newcomers to watch their step and their heads, when another head popped out from around the far side of the door.

  Actually, Seth’s stout beard poked out before the rest of him did. “Will said we’re quitting? Are you high, man? We’ve got the beam all lined up and—” He broke off as he pushed through the door enough to see that Sawyer wasn’t alone. “Oh, hey, sorry there, Miss Addie. I didn’t see you. How’d it go down at the courthouse? We all legal and legit now?”

  Sawyer nudged the door open wider so Seth could see the rest of the group. “Oh, ho! Well, why didn’t you tell me we had company?” His smile broadened as he wedged his muscular frame out past Sawyer, then stepped right in front of him, barely missing Sawyer’s toes with his clodhopper-sized feet.

  Seth stuck his hand out toward Sunny, then realized he was wearing work gloves and pulled one off, wiped his hand on his pant leg and stuck it out again. “Hello there. Seth Brogan. Former platoon buddy turned dog boy to the slave king here. Pleased to meet you.”

  To her credit, the far more pristinely dressed Sunny took Seth’s sweat-stained hand without pause and gave it a decent shake. But then, Seth had that effect on women. Apparently, the neatly trimmed, but abundant beard and the man bun were lady magnets. Who knew? Occasionally a man magnet, too. At least from Sawyer’s observation. Seth was firmly heterosexual, but he loved attention and therefore welcomed all audience members. It had made him something of a challenge when they’d served together, since their work often required the exact opposite of “look at me!” But Sawyer couldn’t ask for a more loyal friend than Seth Brogan. The fact that they’d saved each other’s bacon on more than one occasion had forged an unbreakable bond few would understand.

  “Your benevolent slave king is giving you the night off,” he told Seth. “Unexpected company,” he added, not unkindly. “I’m about to give the grand tour, such as it is. You can head out with the McCalls and the rest of the crew. Go play with your vines and tell Dexter I said hello.”

  S
awyer noticed that both Sunny and Bailey were watching the byplay between the two men with interest. Sunny’s attention was on Seth. Big surprise. Bailey’s attention, however, had remained firmly on him since Seth had mentioned they’d served together. When she’d recognized the Special Forces tat on his arm, he’d suspected there was a story there. He was still coping with the revelation that these two had a share of his homestead. But that didn’t stop him from being curious. About both females.

  “Dexter?” Sunny asked. “Dog?”

  “Llama,” Seth responded.

  Her perfectly shaped brows lifted. “You know, now that you say that, I could have sworn I saw a few of them on my drive up the mountain.”

  “Not mine, I’m across the creek. But it’s not as uncommon as you might think.”

  “Great wool,” Addie chimed in.

  “There is nothing common about Dexter,” Sawyer said. “Speaking of which . . .” He let the sentence trail off and sent a meaningful gaze toward Seth. “We’ll jump back in at oh-six-hundred.”

  “You’ll jump in,” Seth replied easily. “Count me in about an hour later.” He stroked his beard. “Man needs his beauty sleep. And I have chickens to feed.” He looked back to Sunny and wiggled his eyebrows. “Need any eggs?”

  “I beg your pardon?” she said, clearly more flustered than affronted. A typical reaction to Seth Brogan.

  “Get directions to my place from Sawyer. Swing by. That your Cooper?” He nodded, looking past her shoulder to the Mini parked by Addie’s Subaru.

  “It is.”

  “Sweet. Trade you a few dozen eggs for a spin.”

  Sawyer was about to butt in, save the poor woman, but Sunny took care of that herself.

  She lifted one of those expressive brows and her lips lifted in a dry smile. “And then you invite me in to see your llama etchings?”

  Seth barked out a laugh, but shrugged. “I’ve never etched a llama. Pretty sure Dex would hate that.” He leaned closer. “But I do have some very interesting war . . . uh . . . souvenirs.”

  Sunny laughed. “I’ll just bet you do.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, you can bring your . . . sister?” he said hopefully, shooting a grin at Bailey.

  “No, thanks,” Bailey said, answering for herself. “Llamas spit.”

  All of the adults laughed at that while Sawyer thought he couldn’t recall one woman ever shutting Seth down so effectively, much less two. Bravo, ladies.

  “You’ve worked with them?” Seth asked the young girl, seeming quite sincere.

  “Tolerated them, more like.”

  This earned a surprised smile from Sunny, who looked like she approved of the girl speaking up.

  “Well, if you stick around, you’ve got to come meet Dex. He’ll change your mind.”

  Bailey said nothing, but her expression made it clear she was doubtful of that ever coming to pass.

  “Heck, maybe you can give me some llama pointers.”

  “Okay, dog boy, enough,” Sawyer said, smiling nonetheless.

  “That’s corporal dog boy,” Seth joked, then took a step back, sketched a brief bow to the women, clicked his work-booted heels together, and delivered a crisp salute to Sawyer. He shifted his gaze to Sunny as he turned the salute to a mock phone beside his ear and mouthed, “Call me.” With a wink at Bailey and a kiss blown toward Addie, who blushed as if she was a good five decades younger than her actual age, he was gone.

  The whirlwind that was Seth Brogan. Sawyer shook his head, smiled. “Sorry. Where were we? Oh, right. Watch your head, and take care where you step. We’re still in the tear-down phase.”

  “You’re not tearing it all down, though, right?” Sunny asked, concern and surprise filling her expression.

  He couldn’t tell if she was upset at the idea he might be razing an historic building, or because he could be leveling her inheritance. “Come inside and see.” He shoved at the door, which squealed loudly on the metal tracks.

  Both Sunny and Bailey covered their ears at the screeching noise, but followed him inside.

  “Whoa,” Bailey breathed, barely more than a whisper.

  She and Sunny both stopped just inside the big door, which Sawyer shoved closed again behind him. As the afternoon waned toward evening, there were more than a few wild critters who’d be quite happy to share his cot. He knew this because he’d had to evict most of them when he’d come back home after serving Uncle Sam. Not that there still weren’t ample entry points, but he didn’t have to go hang a welcome sign, either.

  “What’s that?” Bailey asked, pointing to the hulk of rusted machinery attached to the far wall.

  “That’s what operates the waterwheel,” he told her.

  “Does it work?”

  “Not yet,” he said, with a smile. “The waterwheel generated the power here, once upon a time, but the place was modernized over time. Hard to tell that now it’s been gutted.

  We’re still on generator power, but the windows along the front wall up there, along with the skylights, take care of the indoor lighting anyway.” He motioned upward, but the two were already glancing up at the metal roof, soaring a full two and a half stories overhead. Parts of it had rusted through here and there, creating unintentional skylights, but there was no point in starting in on repairing them until the infrastructure was shored up.

  Sunny walked out toward the middle of the big open space and turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. Scaffolding covered two of the interior walls, and in addition to his small homemade homestead in the far corner, there was construction detritus everywhere. Otherwise, though, it was a cavern at the moment.

  “Was it always open like this?” she asked. “Was the machinery that big?”

  Sawyer shook his head. “No, there were two floors actually, and a loft. We’re in what amounts to the basement. See the line around the perimeter a few feet up?” He pointed up the wall where a stripe showed where the floor joists had been. “Half of this level is underground with a sidewalk out, where we just came in, and the rear walk out there.” He pointed to their left, where a series of what were once glass-paned doors lined the center of the long back wall. Most of the glass was long gone, and the empty frames had been covered with plywood. “This is about three-quarters the size of the floor space above—or what will be the floor space when we put it back in—and is built right into the side of the mountain. It was the boiler room when the place was modernized and also where the electrical panels and such were. All that had to be gutted as well, as you can see.” He pointed higher up. “The floor above the main floor wasn’t a full floor. You can see another line about fifteen feet or so above the first one. That was more of an attic space, sort of loft style storage. It was only about five and a half feet high, so not an actual full floor.”

  “Are you putting that floor back in, too?” Sunny asked.

  He nodded. “That’s the plan, but we’ll put it in a bit lower since we don’t need the overhead space on the main floor here like they did originally. That will create a full second floor. We’d like the main floor to be the marketing area, with workshop space and classroom space upstairs in what was the attic. And this space, or part of it, will still hold all the fuse boxes and water heaters and the like, plus office space for Addie.”

  “What about you?” Bailey wanted to know. “Where will you live? Down here in the basement?”

  “Oh, I have some property up in another part of the Hollow. Closer to Hawk’s Nest Ridge.” He grinned, and winked at her. “That’s my next project. But first things first.”

  “What part of the mill is original?” Sunny wanted to know.

  “What you see, generally speaking. The tin roof was replaced several times, but that tin is a century old. What’s left of it, anyway. The stonework has been repaired and shored up over the years, but is original to the building. The plank wood exterior has been replaced as needed over time, so it’s varying degrees of old, but what is here is at least—”

  “A
hundred years old,” Sunny echoed. “When were all the machines taken out, or whatever they used to process the silk?”

  “The company sold most of it off when they closed, so there wasn’t much left. Doyle’s ancestors tried to lease the property, but way up here, what was anyone going to do with it? So it was eventually abandoned and left to the elements, which, in turn, did a number on the interior.”

  “Hence the gutting,” she finished.

  “Exactly. And that isn’t a bad thing, all in all, as it allows us to restructure how the space is used to suit our needs now. The property was already considered historic when it closed down, but the Hartwells at the time, and since, didn’t allocate any money to take care of the place. As Addie said, none of them lived in town at that point, so to say the mill had become overgrown and dilapidated is an understatement. Doyle’s grandfather was the first one to come back in more than a generation. His only son took off, so he was left to raise Doyle himself.” Sawyer smiled. “He became smitten with our Miss Addie here, so he stayed on after his grandpa passed on.”

  “When he and I split up, I knew there was nothing going to keep him here,” Addie said, speaking up for the first time, clearly not interested in having her marriage to Doyle Hartwell as a subject of conversation. “So I had him deed part of the place to me, as insurance, I guess. I knew the place was an old heap, and I certainly didn’t have the wherewithal to do anything to it, but I couldn’t stand the idea of it ending up in the hands of someone who would tear it down or disrespect its heritage. Then it became Sawyer’s heritage, too, and I aimed to keep it that way.”

  Sawyer noticed Sunny’s gaze shift to him, then away again, and he wondered what was on her mind.

  “Now it’s your heritage, too,” Addie said to Sunny and Bailey.

  “So, where does that put things?” Sunny asked. “I mean, I’m assuming you didn’t know Doyle was going to leave his share of it to anyone else, and why would he? But now there are two other part owners. So, before you do anything else to the place, we should probably have a talk about who is responsible for what, right?”