"That's the plan." Riley wrapped her hands around her coffee mug, feeling the warmth seep into her palms. "I'm still getting everything set up—business license, website, all of that. But I'm hoping to start taking clients in the new year."
"Well, you'll do great," Thomas said, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. "This town needs someone who knows what they're doing with all that online stuff."
"I hope so."
They ate breakfast at the kitchen table, sunlight streaming through the windows, and Riley couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this content. This settled. The pancakes were perfect—fluffy and golden, with real maple syrup that Thomas said came from a farm two towns over. The coffee was strong and hot. And the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and teasing and the kind of comfortable silences that only came with family.
"So what's the plan for today?" Thomas asked, pushing his empty plate away. "Besides getting ready for tonight."
"I thought I'd show Riley around the property," Grant said. "In daylight, I mean. She hasn't really seen any of the new stuff we’ve done yet."
"Good idea." Thomas stood, gathering plates. "And Riley, I want you to treat this like it’s your home now too.”
Riley's eyes stung. "Thank you. That means a lot."
"I mean it." Thomas squeezed her shoulder as he passed. "I can see how happy you make my son. That's all I've ever wanted for him." After breakfast, Grant bundled Riley into one of his jackets—thick and warm and smelling like him—and they walked outside together.
The farm looked peaceful in the late morning light. Snow dusted the fields, the winter sun making everything sparkle. They walked hand in hand, their breath fogging in the cold air.
"I want to show you something," Grant said, leading her toward the retail area. "I've been thinking about the future. Our future."
Riley's heart squeezed. "Yeah?"
"Over here—" Grant gestured to an empty lot next to the small cabin that currently served as the farm shop. "I want to expand the retail space. Build something bigger. Room for more wreaths, decorations, maybe a little café area where people can warm up with hot cocoa, snacks, I don’t know. Make it like an experience, not just a place to get supplies."
Riley could picture it—warm and inviting, somewhere families would want to linger. "That sounds perfect."
"And there," Grant pointed to the field beyond the parking area, "we need more parking for the Tree Toss. This year we had cars lining the road. Next year I want it organized. Safe."
They walked slowly, Grant sharing his vision for the farm. Not just maintenance and keeping things running, but growth. Expansion. Making it even better.
"I've been thinking about this for years," Grant admitted. "But talking about it with you here, knowing you're staying, knowing we're building this together—it feels real now. Possible."
"I've been thinking," Grant said as they walked through the field where the Christmas trees grew in neat rows. "About what you said. Starting your own business."
"Yeah?" Riley tucked her hands into the pockets of Grant's borrowed jacket, the sleeves hanging past her fingertips.
"I want to hire you." Grant stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression serious. "The farm needs a better online presence. A real website. Social media strategy. Maybe some help with marketing for next season."
Riley's heart swelled. "Grant?—"
"And before you say I don't have to, I know I don't have to. I want to." Grant's hands found her waist, pulling her closer. "Because you're good at what you do. Because this farm deserves the best. And because I want to support you the way you're supporting me by staying."
Riley reached up to cup his face, her fingers cold against his warm skin. "You know I'm going to charge you full rate, right? This is a business. No friends and family discount."
"I wouldn't have it any other way." Grant grinned. "I want to be a real client. Help you build your portfolio."
"Okay." Riley smiled. "Then you're hired. Or rather, I'm hired. However that works."
"We'll figure it out together."
Grant kissed her, slow and sweet, and when they broke apart, both their cheeks were flushed from cold and something warmer.
They kept walking, and Grant pointed out where he wanted to plant new saplings in the spring, where he was thinking of adding a small greenhouse for wreath-making workshops.
"I love hearing you talk about this," Riley said. "About the future. Your plans."
"Our plans," Grant corrected, squeezing her hand. "This is ours now, Riley. Your business, this farm, our life here. We're building it together."
