National recognition. We were about to break out in a way we hadn’t in fifty years.

And it was all thanks to Luke.

Everything was.

LUKE

I walked Natalie through the greenhouse, showing her our new setup to accommodate our higher yield. She met Dad and Kash and, last but certainly not least, our matriarch.

She was blissfully charming for the five minutes we’d allotted for her—after that, my mother tended to nervous-talk the ear off of whoever’d stumbled into her.

In five-minute increments, she could rule the world.

Natalie seemed impressed, smiling and engaging and audibly gasping when she walked into the greenhouse. She asked a hundred questions and wandered through the rows of teeming blooms, occasionally bending to bring her nose to a bud.

It’d been a banner meeting, by my estimation.

“So,” I started, opening the swinging doors separating the greenhouse from the workspace, “what do you think?”

“I think Floral would love to do a piece on Longbourne,” she answered with a smile.

Tess and Ivy perked up from their table, smiling.

Natalie scrolled through her calendar on her phone. “Our next feature spot is for November. Do you think you’d be willing to do a fall window for the shoot?”

I glanced at Tess for confirmation, and she nodded emphatically.

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Great,” Natalie answered, clicking away at her calendar. “Tomorrow?”

Tess stilled, her smile dropping into an O.

“Tomorrow?” I echoed stupidly.

“I know. It’s an insane request. Our planned feature fell through, and I’ve got to fill the spot now. I have another florist who might be able to do it, but I’d much prefer to feature Longbourne. The history, the fact that you grow your own flowers, the part you play in the neighborhood…it’s just such a great story, one I think our readers would really connect with. But I understand if you can’t get it done in time. Our next open spot would be …” She paused, scrolling through her phone. “March.”

Tess looked like she’d been electrocuted, but she nodded once.

“We’ll do it,” I said.

Natalie smiled. “Perfect. I’ll be here tomorrow at seven. We’ve got to get the morning light for the front of the shop.” And with that, she was heading for the door to the click of her heels on the concrete.

When I walked her out, I hurried back to Tess, wondering how the fuck we were going to come up with a concept, get supplies, and build an installation in less than twenty-four hours.

Tess did not look any more confident than I felt.

She chewed on her lip, her brows knit together and face scrunched in thought. “A fall window. In August.”

“We can’t get gourds or anything that will be in season.”

“No. It’s going to have to be by color. Warm oranges, yellows. Wheat, dried pampas. What if …” she started, brightening up. “What if we took one of the pole frames, like the one we used for the rain and shine display, and hung dried pampas grass by the stalk? Hang them close together, use dyed twine. Maybe in a rust.” Her pace picked up, excited. “We can hang them like a wave or at angles. Oh! At angles! Almost to make a triangle if you were standing in front of the shop. Oh—oh! We could use different shades of twine from brown to rust to orange to mustard in shades, so it fades from one color to another.”