I only hoped we would get it back on the water. With our bullheaded bunch, I had no doubt we’d get it moving again, if powered by nothing more than dog-paddling and sheer will.

“You starting at the shop tomorrow?” Kash asked, kicking my boot under the table.

“I dunno. Mom?”

“If you’re ready. Not that we have much business these days, but we always do more in the summers, especially when you’re on the counter,” she said, patting my shoulder.

Laney snickered.

“Yeah,” Kash said. “I’d be willing to bet Cougar Judy orders a couple of bouquets once she hears you’re behind the counter.”

Mom’s smile fell. “Judy always was one of our best customers. I wonder if she’s been getting her arrangements from Bower Bouquets.”

A collective chorus of derisive noise filled the room. Bower was the name on the company dartboard. They’d come in with a corporate swoop that put an end to almost every other shop in Manhattan. Ours had only survived this long because Longbourne provided wholesale flowers to neighboring shops and existed as a monument, a cornerstone of the neighborhood, and the only greenhouse of this size in Manhattan. The hip little boutiques and the big chains had driven everyone else out, and even the boutiques had to fight for scraps, what with Greenwich Village rent and the convenience of ordering flowers on 1-800-Roses4U.

“You know,” she started, “at garden club last week, Evangeline Bower was on her high horse about the new stores they just opened. She looked down her long nose at me through her whole humblebragging speech. She thinks I’m crass? Well, I think she’s a snob, plain and simple.”

“Maybe her French twist is too tight,” Laney joked.

“Judy’s not going to Bower,” Jett soothed. “She just loves Luke.”

Laney laughed. “We can put his pretty face in the front of the store and watch the ladies roll in.”

Mom softened, laughing when I framed my face and batted my lashes at her.

“Maybe we should put him in a sandwich board out front,” Laney joked.

“We can write Plant one on me on the front.” Jett smirked.

“Only if he’s naked,” Kash added.

“With a bell,” Marcus insisted.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no,” I said with a shrug.

“You always were the one I couldn’t get to wear pants when you were little,” Mom said. “And by the fifth baby in six years, I found it hard to be bothered to care.”

“We cultivate many things,” Dad said. “Roses, poppies, and a penchant for exhibition.”

Mom laughed again, beaming at us as we volleyed. “All of the Bennets under one roof. It’s just a dream to have you home again.”

“Not all,” Marcus corrected.

Mom gave him a look. “Marcus Bennet, you are here every single night for dinner, and you do your laundry in my mud room. Do not pretend you don’t love it here, or I will call you a liar.”

He glanced at the ceiling and shook out his newspaper, but a ghost of a smile flickered across his lips.