Outside, crickets sing. The bistro settles around me, creaking and breathing like a living thing.
Keep the door open.
I pull out the violation list and scan it again. Thirty days. Broken equipment. Municipal scrutiny. And now a prickly seed librarian who might hold the key to everything.
My phone goes off. A text from Maya.
Ivy Hale. Runs the greenhouse on Maple Road. Good luck. You'll need it.
Below that, a phone number.
I save the contact and look at Cora's note one more time.
The rest will follow.
Right.
I grab a clean plate, wrap up the grilled cheese, and tuck it in the fridge. Tomorrow I'll track down Ivy Hale. Tonight, I've got a kitchen to finish scrubbing and a plan starting to take shape.
Seed nights. Community meals. The door open.
I can do this.
Ihaveto do this.
I roll my sleeves back up and get to work.
CHAPTER 2
IVY
The seed packets are already laid out in precise rows when Lila arrives at the greenhouse, cheeks pink from the cold, her younger brother trailing behind.
"We're not late, are we?"
"Right on time." I gesture to the worktable where six stations wait, each with a tray of soil, small pots, and labeled envelopes. "Pick a spot. We'll start when everyone gets here."
Lila gravitates to the station nearest the window, the one with the best light. Smart kid. Her brother, Tommy, grabs the seat beside her and immediately starts poking at the soil.
"Tommy, wait for instructions."
He pulls his finger back like the dirt might bite.
The other kids trickle in over the next few minutes. Maya's nephew, two sisters from the Johnson farm, and a quiet boy whose grandmother volunteers at the library. Seven total. A good number for hands-on work.
I close the greenhouse door against the March wind and turn to face them.
"Morning. Today we're starting with something special." I hold up a glass jar filled with wrinkled brown seeds. "CherokeePurple tomatoes. Anyone know what makes them different from the tomatoes at the grocery store?"
Lila's hand shoots up. "They taste better?"
"True. What else?"
Silence.
I set the jar down and pick up another, this one full of pale beans. "These are Hidatsa Shield beans. Grown by the Hidatsa people for over two hundred years. And these,"—a third jar, tiny golden seeds—"are Lemon Drop peppers from Peru."
Tommy leans forward. "Are they hot?"
