Page 29 of What Remains of Grace

“Okay,” Jenna said, her voice softer than she meant it to be.

When he walked past, the air seemed to move with him, a subtle warmth trailing in his wake. Jenna watched him step out onto the porch, the afternoon light catching on the curve of his shoulders, and for a moment, she didn’t think about roofs or soffit or anything that needed to be fixed.

When the door clicked shut behind him, the quiet pressed close again.

She leaned against the counter, eyes drifting to the coffee cup he’d left behind. He was just a contractor; a man assessing the damage.

So why did it feel like he’d measured her, too?

She stood there longer than she meant to, still trying to catch up with what had just happened. Through the front window, she caught a brief lift of his hand before he climbed into the truck. The house felt different now, charged somehow, and she didn’t trust herself to move until the sound of his truck faded down the street.

When she finally reached for the coffee cup, she noticed something beneath it. A business card.

C.B. Construction.

Simple. Clean. So much like her own.

“Of course,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Of course it’s C.B.”

She picked up her phone, hesitating before punching in the number and typing.

JENNA: Thanks for coming by today. You can send bids to this number.

A few seconds later, the gray dots appeared.

COLE: Got it. You move fast.

JENNA: Efficiency is kind of my thing. Do it right or don’t do it at all.

COLE: Noted. I’ll make sure the estimate keeps up.

She caught herself smiling again, too long, too wide. Her thumb hovered over the screen, considering something clever, maybe something dangerous.

Instead, she locked her phone and set it beside the card. She was being ridiculous. Delusional. This was business.

“Professional, Jenna,” she murmured to the empty kitchen. “Starting tomorrow.”

But even as she said it, her eyes drifted back to the coffee cup, the faint ring it left on the counter, the card tucked neatly underneath, and she couldn’t help the muffled laugh that escaped her.

8

The Next Steps

The estimate came in lower than she expected.

Jenna sat at the kitchen table, coffee cooling beside her as she scrolled through the document Cole had sent over. Labor, materials, contingencies. Neat, logical, and surprisingly manageable. She couldn’t tell if it was his supplier discounts or the sympathy rate she’d said she didn’t want, but either way, she could make it work.

If she tightened her budget and staggered the renovation phases, she’d have enough left for a couple of used cars.

She was jotting notes in the margin when Emmie’s voice came from the hallway. “Hey, my friend bailed. Said her mom doesn’t want her driving out here anymore.”

Jenna looked up from her laptop. “That’s two weeks in a row.”

Emmie dropped into a chair. “Yeah, well, I feel like a little kid begging people to take me places.”

“You are a kid,” Jenna said gently. “You’re supposed to need rides.”

Emmie scowled. “I’m sixteen. I’m supposed to have freedom. I hate having to ask anyone for anything.”