“We’ve been thinking about things you could sell. But what about experiences? Here’s my thing: you do a weekly, or monthly, or whatever, event at Thorn. People pay a fee to come, like a date night or a friends’ night out, or just something fun to do on your own. Whatever. Then you have a bunch of flowers here, and some vases and jars. And people drink wine and arrange flowers, and they pay by the stem on top of the fee to come. Then you can use the fees they pay to come to buy the flowers, because they’ll prepay when they sign up. And you’ll make your money on the flowers they use and the arrangements they take home.”

Ash was blinking slowly, thinking expression firmly in place.

“Maybe you charge for the wine, maybe the wine’s free because the more they have, the more they want to stay and chat and make bouquets. We can price it all out. Oh! And maybe you partner with one of the restaurants and you do it there, where there’s more space. They can sell food and wine, so you don’t have to deal with it. You can have the tubs of flowers and all the tools set up on the tables. And you can go around helping people arrange. Maybe you even have a few arrangements around the restaurant so people get inspired.”

Truman was buzzing with excitement.

“It helps the restaurant, it helps you, and maybe people would even come from the mainland if they hear of a quaint date night or friend hang option on an island. So then they end up coming on the ferry early to be here on time, and then they’re here so they go to the local shops, spend money, all that.”

Ash was silent for a long time, eyes narrowed, looking around the shop. Truman forced himself to be patient.

“That,” Ash said finally, “is a damn good idea.”

Truman’s heart soared. “I could help you plan it. We could see about partnering with—”

Ash interrupted him with a kiss and looked deep into his eyes. “Where the hell,” Ash asked, “did you come from?”

“New Orleans,” Truman said with a wink.

Truman’s phone rang.

“Oh damn, it’s my mom. I’m gonna.” He gestured to the phone and Ash nodded. “Hey, Mom.”

“Truman Alexander, where on earth are you?”

“Uh. Maine.”

“I know you’re in Maine. That lesbian girl at your house told Miri.”

Truman rolled his eyes at “lesbian girl.”

“Well, if you know, Mom…”

“What on god’s green earth are you doing in Maine? D’you fancy freezing to death?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Truman.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got warm clothes, and I’m staying at Greta’s house—that’s the lesbian girl—so I’m not gonna freeze to death.” Then her words registered. “Wait, Miriam went to my house? Why?”