Mrs. Matthews was cooking tiny puff pastry shells so fast, Noelle thought there might be witchcraft involved. Mr. Matthews was making sure no part of the farm was in need of repair, no project left undone. Joshua and Esther Matthews had been tapped by their parents to aid in the rescue effort. Esther had sent Rocket the Boyfriend back to the city, after the third or fourth time he whined about being asked to do work.

Joshua’s wife, Lydia, had worked for a party planner through grad school and was helping Hannah by getting permits and making playlists. Joshua was on kid-wrangling duty, making sure Grant and all the guests’ children were happily occupied, far away from the hub of activity.

The great room had been transformed into command central.

Miriam was livestreaming every day to build up momentum, and the grand fireplace—complete with the Nutcracker Steves—had become her backdrop. Noelle couldn’t stop watching her, no matter how many times she told herself to walk away, to start breaking this spell between them for good.

“Hello, Bloomers!” Miriam began, three days before the auction, her smile not quite her own. “I’m so excited to see so many of you on the stream tonight! A quick recap for everyone who’s just tuning in to this project: My beloved great-aunt left her extremely cool Christmas tree farm to myself, my cousin, and two other amazing friends. We’re so excited about all the art, music, and family time we are going to host here in the years to come, not to mention Bloom Togethers! But a developer is trying to buy the farm out from under us to turn it into luxury cabins. Damn the Man! Save the Carrigan’s!”

At this, a flurry of little hearts rose on the screen.

Noelle rolled her eyes offscreen at Miriam’s Revolution Barbie act, but she was impressed. She didn’t know anyone else who could channel all their panic and pain into a performance like this, making everyone feel like they were the only one being talked to. She’d called Miriam a coward, but what she was doing right now took a hell of a lot of spine.

She whispered to Cole, “Do they really call their get-togethers ‘Bloom Togethers’?”

Cole snorted. “It was my idea, but I swear, I was kidding when I said it. I did not know they were going to run with it. Miriam makes sure they don’t start calling themselves a ‘tribe’ or anything that approaches ‘namaste,’ but there are still a lot of middle-class white ladies in the Bloomers, and they have to let that energy out somehow.”