Jackson added quietly, “And for the veterans—guys like me—it’s a path toward healing. The land, just like animals, doesn’t judge you for what you’ve been through. It just asks that you show up.”
Eleanor paused on a page of diagrams about water cycles. “Ambitious,” she said softly, but her eyes were bright.
Jackson finally spoke. “Zoe is a force of nature.” He meant it.
Zoe nudged his shoulder, eyes sparking. “Don’t let him fool you. I made the binders, sure, but Jackson built half the infrastructure you’re standing in.”
Eleanor’s laugh was light but approving. “Sounds like a solid partnership to me.”
Eleanor lingered in the greenhouse, her gaze moving over the rows of green shoots and blossoms. She flipped through Zoe’s binder one more time, her red nails tapping against the pages. The silence stretched so long Jackson could hear the creak of the rafters and the muffled bleating of a goat outside.
Finally, she closed the binder with a crisp snap. “You’ve done everything right here. The planning, the vision, the heart, and you already have the community behind you.”
Jackson’s heart thudded.
“I don’t need to wait on a board,” Eleanor went on, her voice firm. “I came here today to see if this was the real deal—and it is. I’ll fund the project. Full commitment. You can count on me.”
Zoe’s breath left her in a rush. She blinked rapidly. “Eleanor, that’s—” Her voice caught, and she tried again, steadier this time. “That’s extraordinary. Thank you. We promise we won’t let you down.”
“You’d better not,” Eleanor said, though her smile was warm. She touched Zoe’s arm, then Jackson’s. “Maple Falls is lucky to have you both.”
Her driver pulled the car around, but she lingered a moment longer, her eyes thoughtful. “And I meant what I said. Let me know when you’re ready to have the Moonlight Kisses featured. I’ll reach out to my contacts. I’m sure someone would love to do a piece on this place. In fact…I recently heard about a brilliant young photographer who’s traveling the country, capturing small towns and the people who bring them to life. I’ll suggest he come here—perhaps in the summer. This project of yours, and the discovery of those Moonlight Kiss blooms, would make a wonderful story.” Within minutes the black Rolls-Royce was gliding back down the gravel drive, sunlight glinting off its polished curves.
For a moment, the farm was utterly still.
Then Zoe let out a strangled squeal and punched her fist into the air. “Yes!”
Jackson couldn’t help it. He grabbed her around the waist, lifting her clean off her feet. She laughed, the sound bubbling over as he spun her in a wide circle, Moonlight Kiss flowers nodding in the breeze around them.
“We did it,” she gasped, still half laughing.
Then the laughter faded into a quiet that felt charged, expectant. Jackson brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb lingering just long enough for her breath to catch.
“Zoe…” he started, but whatever words he’d meant to say got lost when she leaned in.
The kiss was soft at first. Then deeper, slower, sweeter. The greenhouse seemed to fold around them, holding them in that perfect, golden moment.
When they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, smiling. “Feels like a new beginning,” she whispered.
THIRTY-NINE
ZOE
Thursday, March 27th
Zoe felt like they needed to celebrate—not downtown at the Kettle, even though she knew Jackson was comfortable there, and not at some fancy dinner with a crowd of people. She didn’t want a party. She just wanted something that felt like them.
Her gaze drifted toward the pasture, where the mares grazed lazily in the soft afternoon light. Beyond them, the barn stood quiet, tack hanging neatly in its place. An idea sparked.
“Do you want to go to the meadow?” she asked, lifting her chin toward the horses. “That is, if you think Xavier will want to?”
Jackson’s mouth curved. “Are you kidding? Xavier loves getting out whenever he can. Give me ten minutes?” he asked.
“Sounds good. I’ll call Mrs. Bishop at the shop and make sure everything’s running smoothly there.”
It turned out Jackson needed a little longer to fetch Xavier, but Zoe didn’t mind. Mrs. Bishop had plenty to say on the phone.
“I was putting together bouquets and wasn’t sure if I should use tulips or miniature roses,” Mrs. Bishop fretted. “They’reboth lovely, but completely different looks. What did you tell me again?”
