“Thank you.” Zoe’s voice steadied with each word. “I’ve also just started experimenting with wood flowers.”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard of those,” Eleanor said with interest.
Zoe showed her a bouquet she’d crafted from the raw wood. “They’re made from the roots of theAeschynomene asperaplant. It’s not native here, but it is sustainable, which I’ll always support.”
Eleanor reached out, touching a petal. “They look so real. You’re definitely talented.”
Heat crept into Zoe’s cheeks. “I’d love to get the local businesses behind this initiative too, replacing their seasonal décor with sustainable alternatives.”
Jackson chimed in, “Zoe started something similar at our family farm in December. Customers can now rent a live Christmas tree for the season instead of cutting one down.”
“After five years the tree is retired, so to speak, and planted in a state preservation area,” Zoe added.
Eleanor inclined her head, impressed.
Jackson gestured toward the door. “Would you like to take a walk through town? We can share more about the educational and charitable side of the project and why we believe it’s worth investing in Maple Falls.”
“I would love to,” Eleanor said warmly.
Just then, the bell above the door jingled and Mrs. Bishop bustled in. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” she began—then froze. Her eyes widened. “Ellie? Is that you?”
“Julie!” Eleanor exclaimed, her whole face lighting up. She stepped forward and wrapped Mrs. Bishop in a warm embrace.
“My word, it’s been what, forty years?” Mrs. Bishop asked.
“If not longer,” Eleanor agreed, holding her friend’s hands.
Zoe looked between them, smiling in surprise and delight. “Wait, how do you two know each other?”
Eleanor’s eyes sparkled. “I thought I mentioned it in my letter?”
Zoe thought back to the trail of emails they’d shared. Nothing major jumped out. Eleanor might have mentioned something about visiting Maple Falls before, but she wasn’t sure.
“You’re not trying to pull one over on these two, are you?” Mrs. Bishop asked with a laugh.
Eleanor smiled. “Not intentional, I promise.”
Mrs. Bishop turned toward Zoe and Jackson. “Don’t believe her. Ellie here loves a good joke.”
“Oh, my, the fun we used to have,” Eleanor said, her eyes sparkling. “Your old rope swing by the lake? I nearly broke my arm on that thing.”
Mrs. Bishop laughed until she wheezed, nodding in agreement. “The Davenports owned a cabin on the lake.”
“Yes we did. My father loved that place. I was sad when he decided to sell it. Always thought I’d find my way back here one way or another, and now, here I am.”
The shop door jingled again, and Zoe’s stomach sank as her mom swept in, arms open as though the whole meeting had been arranged for her benefit. “There you are! I thought I’d stop by and see how the big pitch was going. Oh—Ellie? Is that really you?”
Zoe did a double-take. She didn’t even know how her mom knew about the meeting.
“I may have let it slip,” Mrs. Bishop confessed while Eleanor and Gertie hugged.
“You know these two are nominated for Couple of the Year,” Gertie said.
“Mom.” Zoe quickly shook her head, but her mom was like a freight train, steamrolling ahead.
“Couple of the Year? What’s this about?” Eleanor asked.
Gertie, delighted to explain, launched into the story of the Spring Fling, the contest, the king-and-queen-style crowns. “They just work so well together,” she finished with a knowing smile. “Everyone in town can see it. I’m sure you can too.” She winked, oblivious to the way Zoe wanted to crawl under the counter and never emerge again.
