ZOE
Wednesday, March 19th
The day was finally here. Eleanor Davenport’s driver had pulled up in front of the Cherry Crush Flower Shop. Zoe had gone all out with spring florals spilling from every planter, buttery yellow tulips and sprays of lavender entwined with delicate cherry blossoms across the doorway. Everything was local, sustainable, and exactly what she’d envisioned.
So why did her palms feel clammy?
Her heart thudded in her chest as she smoothed invisible wrinkles from her dress for the fifth time. She’d barely slept, waking at dawn to double-check ribbon lengths and re-fluff petals that didn’t need fluffing. Her pulse was still racing now, every beat loud enough she was sure Jackson could hear it.
When a man in a top hat and dress coat stepped from the driver’s side and moved to open the car door for the woman inside, Zoe’s throat went dry.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispered, fingers clutching the edge of the counter. “I didn’t think she’d have a driver…or pull up in a Rolls-Royce.”
Jackson glanced at her, brows lifting. “You didn’t?”
“We are not prepared. What are we going to offer her?” Panic pitched Zoe’s voice higher. “We should have caviar and champagne. Or gold-flecked chocolates. Or…what about a key to the city? That’s a thing, right?”
Jackson laughed. “A key to the city?”
“You know, like an ambassador would give!” Zoe wrung her hands, her eyes darting toward the window as Eleanor began making her way toward them. The woman didn’t rush. She paused, seeming to take in every inch of Maple Falls—the tidy shopfronts, the planter boxes, the cherry trees lining the street, heavy with blush-pink blossoms.
“We need something more than flowers and a business plan,” Zoe whispered. “I have to call the mayor.”
“Look at me,” Jackson said firmly, his voice steady and low.
But Zoe’s gaze kept flicking back to the window, her pulse climbing.
“I know what we need to do,” Jackson said. “Trust me.”
Zoe’s eyes snapped to his. “You do?”
“She’s just one person.”
“No,” Zoe whispered, shaking her head. “She’s the only person who replied. You saw those federal grants. They wanted inspections, academic standards, and there were a thousand checklists! I thought going the private donor route would be better, but now…” Her throat tightened. “Now I’m not so sure.”
“Listen,” Jackson said, his tone gentling. “If this doesn’t work out, we’ll figure something else out. Trust me. I’ve been in the military; I know my way around red tape. Just take a breath and let Maple Falls work its magic. That’s all we can do.”
Zoe pressed her lips together, her pulse still fluttering. “You’re right. You’re right.” She tried to steady her hands. But as the doorbell jingled and Eleanor stepped inside, Zoe couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to meet royalty while dressed like a peasant.
“Well, hello! I’m Eleanor Davenport, and you must be Zoe and Jackson.”
Jackson confidently strolled forward and shook the woman’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Zoe tried to follow his lead, forcing her shoulders back and her mouth to work.
“Yes, welcome to Maple Falls,” she managed.
“We thought we’d start here at the shop,” Jackson explained smoothly, “then walk downtown to let you get a feel for Maple Falls, its people, our roots.”
Zoe silently thanked him for taking charge.
“Zoe,” Jackson prompted gently, turning toward her. “Do you want to talk a bit about the flowers?”
“Right. Yes.” Zoe cleared her throat and motioned toward the back of the shop. “If you’ll follow me. The first part of my plan, and the one we’ve already started, is growing the local blooms. We’ve built a greenhouse out at the farm, and these”—she gestured to a row of vases—“are the first batch of flowers we’re now selling.”
On display were pots of butter-yellow daffodils, purple coneflowers, and clusters of pale pink columbine.
Eleanor’s eyes brightened. “These are very lovely.”
