Trey Bradford spread a blueprint across the drafting table at the back of his office. “They’re wanting to reconfigure the second story. Knock down the wall between these two bedrooms and turn it into a game room, then connect the second story to the apartment over the detached garage by putting in an elevated walkway here.”

His brother Ben studied the drawing. Though Trey was the oldest, Ben had not only outgrown him, but all six of their brothers and even their dad—which was saying a lot since the runt of the litter was six-foot-one.

“I’m assuming they want the walkway finished out with heat, cooling, and the whole nine yards?” Ben asked.

“They do. Blending the two roofs will be tricky, though.” He flipped to the roof plan at the back of the drawings. “I was thinking we’d—”

“Trey?” Verity Eggers approached the men, her penciled-in eyebrows furrowed. The fifty-something mother of two college girls had been with Bradford Brothers Renovation & Real Estate since it had just been Trey with a big idea and a tiny handful of capital.

Since then, he’d taken on Ben as a partner in renovation and then his brother Paul who’d added the real estate portion to their business. Even still, if it hadn’t been for Verity’s solid presence, sage advice, and dash of mothering, Trey wasn’t sure he’d have made it those first few years.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Demi Lee just called. She’s taking Paul to the dentist. Sounds like that tooth that’s been bothering him has abscessed.”

He reflexively touched his jaw. “Ouch. Is he gonna be okay?”

“I’m sure he is, but he’s not going to be able to meet with Zoey Hart this morning.”

Trey stilled, and slowly lowered his hand. “Zoey Hart? She’s here? In Honky Tonk?”

“Just for the meeting, I think. She’s an interior designer in Dallas now.” Verity shrugged. “Paul said she plans to fix her folks’ place up before it goes on the market.”

“On the market?” He stared at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “Mrs. Hart is moving?”

Ben gave him a sideways look. “Paul said that after Mr. Hart’s funeral, Mrs. Hart decided to move in with the younger daughter in Chicago. It took a few months for Zoey and Jennifer to convince their mom to sell, though. Evidently, she’s finally agreed.”

“You knew about this?”

Ben nodded. “I did.”

“And you didn’t see fit to tell me?”

“Wasn’t mine to tell.”

“We’re in business together, Ben. I don’t appreciate being the last to find out.”

His brother held up both hands. “This was Paul’s doing. He’s the realtor of the bunch. I had nothing to do with anything.”

“The two of you clearly discussed it. And without me.”

Ben studied him. “It’s been twenty years, Trey.”

“Eighteen.”

Ben raised a brow. “But who’s counting?”

“I’ll reschedule her,” Verity said.

“No.” Trey hadn’t meant for the command to come out quite so sharply.

Burrowing her hand under the shoulder of her loose smock blouse, Verity pulled up her bra strap. The two men might outstrip her much rounder and softer frame, but woe to the person who let her maternal looks lure them into thinking she was unintelligent.

She had plenty of snap in her garters and suffered no fools. “The meeting’s at ten o’clock at the Harts’ place. I guess you don’t need me to write down the address for you?”

“No, I know where it is.” He turned back to the drawings, but they might as well have been chicken scratch.

Zoey Hart. In an hour and a half he’d see her for the first time since she’d chased him out of her house, tears streaming down her cheeks, while slinging toward him whatever items she could get her hands on.