She shook her head and hurried to her car. Shewasn’toverreacting. She was being cautious. There was a difference.
After starting the engine, she pulled out of the driveway and headed to the greenhouse to pick up supplies for a side job in town. But her mind kept spinning back to the truck.
She wassureit was there all night.
She routed her brain to her landscaping job today. She’d be creating a small perennial garden for a couple who just moved to Willowbrook.
But those good thoughts silenced as she remembered the truck and the broom laying out where it wasn’t supposed to be. The coiled hose, and the bag of plant food in a place she hadn’t left it.
Her phone sat in the cupholder, and she kept glancing at it, waiting for it to buzz.
Willow had promised to get back to her about the preliminary design she’d submitted for the Black Heart Ranch. The thought of seeing her ideas come to life—of creating something beautiful and functional for people who deserved it—made her chest swell with pride.
She was halfway to the greenhouse when her phone buzzed.
She nearly fumbled the phone as she snatched it up. She pulled into a parking lot and read the message.
Fern! I LOVE your design! I’m on board. Send me the invoice and order everything. Let’s make this happen!
A squeal burst from her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Excitement bubbled through her veins, making her hands shake as she typed out a response.
Thank you so much! I’ll get everything ordered ASAP!
She set the phone down and pressed her palms to her cheeks, grinning so wide her face hurt. This was happening. She was doing this.
By the time she reached the greenhouse to gather her supplies for the landscaping job, her earlier unease had faded. Marla chattered to her about the garden plan as Fern loaded her cart with everything she needed, and topped it off with cheerful annuals she planned to use in the client’s planters.
When she got to the job site, she was practically floating. She parked near the side entrance and grabbed the first load of supplies from her trunk.
“Fern!”
She turned to see Felicity hurrying across the parking lot, her blonde waves bouncing with every step. Felicity owned the bookstore in town, and Fern had done a small planter for the front porch of her home.
“Hey, Felicity!” Fern set down the bag of soil and wiped her hands on her jeans.
Felicity stopped in front of her, slightly breathless. “I’m so glad I caught you. I wanted to talk to you about the planter you made for my front porch.”
Fern’s stomach sank. “Oh? Was there a problem?”
“Problem? No! It’s perfect. Everyone who comes to the house comments on it. Even the postman.” Felicity’s smile widened. “I was hoping you could make me a custom one. Something bigger for the front of the bookshop. And…” She paused, her eyes sparkling. “Could you change out the flowers every season? Like, summer blooms now, then maybe autumn mums, winter greens and flowers in the spring?”
Fern’s breath caught. “You want me to do that?”
“If you’re interested. I’d pay you for the initial planter and then a recurring fee for the seasonal updates.”
Recurring income. A steady stream of work. The words echoed in Fern’s mind, and her heart soared.
“Yes!” The word burst out of her before she could temper her excitement. “I mean, yes, I’d love to do that for you.”
Felicity laughed and pulled her into a quick hug. “Perfect! I’ll email you the size of the pot I’m thinking, and we can go from there.”
As Felicity walked away, Fern stood there, clutching her bag of soil, a smile stretching across her face. This was more than a side job now. This was a burgeoning business.
She returned to her vehicle for more supplies and stopped in her tracks, her gaze snagging on a truck parked down the street.
Dark blue. Tinted windows.
Her breath hitched, and her fingers tightened around her keys. It was the same truck. The one from outside her apartment.
