Chapter 159 Chapter 159

Chapter 159 Chapter 159
Talon’s POV

Marcus raised an eyebrow, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Nursery planning? That's big news, boss, Congratulations. If you need help hauling heavy timber or cutting down the long boards, just let me know."
"Appreciated, Marcus," I said. "I'll take you up on that when we start setting the frame." After Marcus headed back out toward the equipment sheds, I spent another hour in the shop working on the precise cuts for the crib's headboard, using the hand plane to smooth out the edges.

By ten o'clock, I walked out of the barn and headed up the gravel path toward the main house. The summer air smelled of sweet clover and pine. When I pushed open the mudroom door and walked into the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee hit me right away. Kira wasn't in the house, though, her lab notes were stacked neatly on the table, but the back door was open. I walked down the back steps and over to the barn we converted into her soil lab. She was sitting at her heavy wooden workbench near the centrifuge, her dark hair pulled back in a clip. She was logging sample data from the north field into her laptop, looking totally focused. I walked in quietly, carrying a fresh cup of coffee, and set it down on the counter next to her test tube rack.

She paused, looking up from her screen, a warm smile breaking across her face as she picked up the mug.
"Morning," she said, taking a sip. "How are the crib cuts coming along in the shop?"
"Headboard is almost done," I said, pulling up a stool and sitting down next to her bench. "Though I'm going to need your input on the final stain once I finish sanding."
"I can do that," she said with a smile, reaching across the bench to grab my hand, her fingers lacing through mine. "We make a pretty good team."

"The best," I said. Before we could say more, a heavy knock rattled against the open barn door frame, followed by Mr. Gable’s loud voice calling out from the gravel path.
"Hello! Anyone working in here?" Kira and I walked over to the barn entrance. Mr. Gable was standing there in his plaid shirt, holding a massive woven basket full of fresh sweet corn, green zucchini, and a warm peach pie wrapped in foil. Behind him, Martha was coming down the walk carrying a folded stack of sewn baby blankets.
"Morning, Talon! Kira!" Mr. Gable said, stepping into the lab. "Martha heard a rumor from the general store, so we brought over some fresh corn and pie. And honestly, we wanted to drop these off."

Martha  stepped inside, setting the blankets down on a clean side table near the door.
"Good morning, dears," Martha said, looking between us with a warm smile. "Martha has a feeling about these things, and when I saw Talon down at the lumber yard yesterday buying nursery timber, I put two and two together." Mr. Gable said.

Kira laughed softly, stepping over to hug Martha. "Your timing is pretty impressive, Martha. We were just talking about it."
"So it's true?" Mr. Gable grinned, looking at me while shaking my hand with a heavy grip. "The ridge is getting a new arrival?"
"Early next spring," I confirmed, wrapping an arm around Kira's waist.
"That is wonderful news!" Mr. Gable laughed, clapping me hard on the shoulder. "Forget building drainage ditches, Steele. Wait until you try putting together a crib with missing instructions!"

We spent the next couple of hours sitting on the back deck of the main house, eating slices of peach pie, drinking coffee, and listening to the Gables talk about what the valley was like twenty years ago. When the Gables finally headed back down the driveway around two afternoon, promising to bring over more fresh produce next week, Kira and I stood together near the porch steps. The sun was starting to move over the western ridge, warming up the yard and the fields below.
I pulled her in close, wrapping my arms around her as we looked out over the property.
"We built a real home out here, Kira," I said quietly.
"We really did," she said, resting her head against my chest.

The golden warmth of late August gave way to the crisp, cool breezes of September, turning the leaves along the ridge into bright shades of red and yellow. The mornings started coming in with a sharp chill, which made lighting the woodstove in the living room a normal part of our morning routine again.
Inside the east wing nursery, though, the temperature was completely fine. For the past three weekends, the shop in the main barn had been my main workspace. While Kira spent her mornings in her lab barn finishing up her seasonal soil report logs and testing soil samples from the north plot, I spent hours surrounded by sawdust, wood stain, and raw timber, measuring, cutting, and sanding every single piece of wood for the crib. I didn't want to buy some expensive factory crib in a box from a department store. I wanted something solid, built out of the white oak timber we cleared off our own land back in the spring.

It was a Saturday morning, just past eight o'clock. I was standing in the center of the nursery floor, wearing a dark flannel shirt, canvas work pants, and my work boots, carefully aligning the headboard slats for the frame. The room was filled with soft morning light coming through the double-paned windows. The pale gray walls and dark green rug looked good against the natural grain of the white oak crib I was putting together. I used basic mortise and tenon joints for the whole frame so it wouldn't wobble or squeak. I tested the side rail latch mechanism one more time, sliding the wooden bolt into its slot until it clicked shut smoothly.

"Checking the construction work?" a soft voice asked from the doorway.I looked up to see Kira leaning against the doorframe. She was wearing a cream-colored knit sweater, dark pants, and thick socks, resting her hand over the visible curve of her bump. Her hair was pulled back in a clip, and she was watching me with a quiet smile.
I set my chisel down on the small workbench near the window and walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her waist. "Morning," I smiled, looking down at her. "What does the lead inspector think of the setup so far?"

She stepped closer, resting her hands against my shirt as she looked past my shoulder at the crib standing in the middle of the room.
"I think," she said softly, "that if our kid inherits your habit of double-checking every single detail, he's going to be the most organized person in the state."
"Double-checking is just basic procedure," I teased, kissing her forehead. "Besides, if I'm building a crib from scratch, it needs to be completely solid. No loose screws, no weak spots, and no cheap parts."