‘Willow patch next,’ ordered Daisy, grabbing Laurel’s sleeve and almost pulling her over. She bore her off beyond the gourd vines to where twelve young willow plants grew through black matting. ‘No weeding or digging,’ Daisy explained. ‘When the kit arrives the plants are just sticks. You get a tool to pierce the matting and then you plant the stick in the hole. They grow these long, bendy rods called whips.’ She let a handful slide through her fingers. Most of them still had leaves. ‘You keep harvesting them and they keep on growing. You weave with them.’

‘What do you make?’ Laurel wondered once again how this creative, industrious young woman could possibly be bunking off art classes at school.

‘Whatever.’ Daisy shrugged. ‘This afternoon I’m making circlets for Christmas wreaths while the willow’s still flexible. I cut what was in Gabe’s barn a couple of weeks ago, so the leaves would fall off easily. If I stored it much longer the willow would harden and then I’d have to soak it to work it.’

‘What do you do with so many Christmas wreaths?’ Laurel asked.

‘Sell them,’ Daisy answered promptly. ‘I’ve got a load of orders already off the village Facebook page. I don’t have to worry about getting them delivered, like I would if I sold them through Etsy, because I can just walk to whoever’s house it is and hand it over. They pay me cash so it’s mega easy.’

Laurel mulled over this information. She might not be a parent but she felt Daisy was omitting something important. ‘I knew you’d bought those baubles for wreaths but I’m surprised Rea and you never mentioned selling them.’

Daisy shifted awkwardly.

Grady’s voice came from over Laurel’s shoulder. ‘Doesn’t your mum know yet, Dais?’

She trained all of her attention on the whippy strands of willow, running them through her fingers. ‘I’m not doing anything wrong,’ she answered defensively.

Hmm.

Daisy was looking mulish. Laurel wanted very much for her niece to feel they were on the same side, but there was definitely a situation to be managed here. Carefully, she said, ‘Well, we don’t want your mum to think you’ve been taking orders from just anyone online and intend to go to their houses on your own, do we? Because she’s bound to think that’s dangerous.’ Because it flaming-well is. ‘What we could do is tell Rea about selling the wreaths when we go home. And we’ll make it clear we’ll go together to deliver them. How’s that sound?’

‘OK,’ Daisy agreed slowly, frowning. ‘But I’d only be delivering in the village. Nothing could happen to me.’

Laurel looped an arm around Daisy. ‘Things happen in villages, you know.’ Her voice caught in her throat. She forced a laugh to clear it.