“Hey!” Ally’s voice called from the side gate. “Is this where you want the flower buckets? Also, Ryan says the arch is leaning to the left, but he’s fifteen and sees the world sideways, so I wouldn’t listen to him.”
Tara stood, brushing soil from her hands. “Good morning to you too.”
Ally trotted over, ponytail bouncing. She wore an apron over her shorts, and the pockets were stuffed with ribbons and what looked like a half-finished boutonniere. “Christina’s on her way, she had a doctor’s appointment this morning. And Sam’s bringing the watercolor place cards she made. They are so good, you’re going to die.”
Tara smiled. “She’s a great kid.”
Ally’s expression softened. “She really is.”
Will straightened the arch behind them, pretending not to listen, but his grin gave him away.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel, and Tara turned to see Evan and Emily approaching hand in hand, baby Grace strapped to Emily’s chest in a floral carrier. Grace’s tiny fist poked out the side, waving like she was greeting the garden herself.
“Someone was up early,” Emily said, bouncing slightly as Grace made a contented squeak.
“She’s just excited for Nana’s wedding,” Tara teased, though her stomach fluttered in that familiar way it had ever since the kids started calling her Nana half-jokingly. It still amazed her how they’d all come together, here in Blueberry Hill, after being scattered across the country for years.
Evan kissed her cheek. “It’s looking good out here. Mom, I think you might actually pull this off.”
Tara snorted. “Your confidence is appreciated, even if it’s just a bit misplaced.”
“You’re doing great,” Emily said warmly. “And the cottage looks beautiful. Christina’s really settled in.”
Tara’s face softened. “She needed space. And so did Ryan.”
She didn’t elaborate, but Emily nodded. They both knew Ryan was blossoming in ways none of them expected—friends his own age, gaming nights, Will’s carpentry lessons. He was still brilliant, still a little too old and too young all at once, but he was finding his equilibrium.
“Speaking of the cottage,” Will said, “I need to grab the toolbox from the truck before Ryan takes it apart to build a robot.”
Evan laughed. “Too late. I think he’s already drawing schematics.”
“Let him,” Tara said fondly. “Robots don’t scare me anymore.”
Everyone laughed—because they all remembered the incident with the flying drone and the cake.
While they talked, Tara kept glancing at the rosebush she’d just planted. Sunlight warmed its petals, making them glow. She pressed a hand briefly to her heart.
“I think Patty would approve,” she whispered.
Will heard her. He always did. He reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
They worked together for the next half hour—placing flower buckets, tying ribbons, arguing over whether Ally’s wildflower arrangements were “rustic” or “chaotic,” and dodging baby Grace’s attempts to grab everything within reach. The garden filled slowly with color and laughter.
Just as Tara stepped back to assess their progress, she spotted Christina walking up the path with Angus trotting beside her. She carried a small bag in one hand—probably snacks, because Christina never seemed to stop being hungry these days—and a faint weariness around her eyes that Tara recognized instantly.
“Everything okay?” Tara asked as she greeted her daughter with a hug.
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just tired. And hungry. And swollen. But the appointment went well.”
“Did Violet show off?” Emily asked.
“She always does,” Christina said, a hand drifting to her belly.
Angus nudged Tara’s leg, demanding attention in his typical gentle way.
Tara scratched behind his ears. “You taking care of our girl?”
He barked once, proudly.
