Across the river, two little girls raced beside the florist’s shop, a floppy-eared puppy barreling after them through the mud. Their giggles echoed over the quiet ruins. Someone had set out a few potsof vibrant flowers—bright yellows and reds against the gray-brown wreckage, like a declaration:We’re still here.
Life and hope still remained.
Rising from the remnants. From the hearts.
Her breath came out in a long, shaky exhale. Her gaze lifted to her brother—and then toward the adjoining wall.
The damage and loss were real. But the most important things?
They were still here.
So she stepped forward into that hope.
“Let’s go see what Finn needs,” she said softly. “Then we can start loading up the truck.”
She turned and slogged back to the front door, stepping over Finn’s broken sign to enter his restaurant. The scene was similar to her own shop. Mud. Shattered glass. The stillness of a place still sitting in shock.
He stood in the middle of the room, his back to her, hands at his sides and shoulders hunched. As they neared, he turned. Eyes red-rimmed. Jaw tight.
His body straightened. “How’s Tea Thyme?”
“The same,” she said gently. “Hard.”
He nodded once. “It is.”
“Nate’s truck is out back, Finn.” Jack’s voice broke into the silence as he looked up from his phone. “Said you’re welcome to use it—to salvage anything from the pub or the apartment.”
The offering reminded Daphne that the Cabriolet sat somewhere beneath the river’s slowly decreasing waters.
Finn swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving slow and heavy. “Tell him... thanks.”
Jack dipped his head and moved back through the restaurant toward the kitchen, likely making a similar assessment as he’d done in Daphne’s shop.
Or giving Daphne and Finn some privacy.
Seeing the struggle on Finn’s face spread the growing ache throughDaphne all over again. That quiet grief that came when one wasn’t sure whether to cry or rage or just sit down in the middle of the mess in shock.
This kind of loss hit people differently. Some crumbled. Some rebuilt. And others... left.
When it came down to it, would Finn really stay?
He didn’t have roots here. And she wouldn’t blame him if the cost to rebuild was too high.
But suddenly, losing Tea Thyme didn’t feel like the biggest risk.
Losing him and Lucy did.
“It’s going to take a lot to rebuild.” Finn breathed out the words, almost as if he’d been reading her mind.
Her body tensed as he stepped away and picked up a bag from a nearby table. “But maybe this will help.”
She studied him and took the bag, its contents surprisingly heavy. With a little pause, she opened the bag and a whimper curled from her throat. Inside, all cleaned up, cream with blue flowers, was her Scottish teapot. The one her granny had ordered from a special shop in Inverness called Hopewell.
Hope.There was no escaping it.
Even in the wreckage,hopefound a way.
Her voice broke. “How...?”
