I almost laughed—my title sounded so official. “It’s nice to meet you, Natalie,” I said, offering my hand, which she took and pumped.
“You too. The space is gorgeous. You say it’s been in the family since 1849?”
Luke nodded proudly. “A long line of women have passed Longbourne down to their daughters.”
“Until now,” she said on a chuckle. “Now it would seem the majority shareholders are male.”
“The bane of my poor mother’s life, I assure you,” he teased. “If only she could have bred a pack of girls instead. We’d be easier to marry off, I’m sure.”
Another laugh. God, he was charming. A snap of his fingers, a flash of that smile, and the world was at Luke Bennet’s feet.
“I’m sure you have no issues getting dates, Mr. Bennet.” There was a tone to her voice that made my eyes narrow.
“But few would have the constitution to deal with us long-term. Only the strongest and most willful of women could tame the Bennet brothers.” He slipped an arm around my waist, still smiling that million-dollar smile. “Trust me when I say we’re all counting the minutes until Tess figures out she’s too good for me.”
I blushed like a teenager, chuckling up at him. But I wound my arm around his waist and leaned in. He gave my hip a squeeze.
Natalie smiled amiably, a little embarrassed and with the understanding that her place had just been noted. “Well, with talent like she has for flowers, I can see why. Tess, can you tell me about the installation, your process, that sort of thing? And then can I get the tour?”
“Of course,” I said, sliding away from Luke to head toward the windows.
I walked her through the concept, how we had come up with it, the work Luke and I had done together. I showed her through the shop, answering the multitude of questions she had. And back into the workspace we went, where she met Ivy and doted on the arrangement I’d been working on, poppies and pods and chrysanthemums in shades of orange. I’d ditched the orchid once I had a little distance and with the visual of Luke making out with a dreamsicle ice cream cone on my mind.
Natalie asked all the right questions. She was knowledgeable and inquisitive, and I found I liked her very much. Luke followed us silently, letting me take the lead like he always did.
When she asked to see the greenhouse, Luke ushered her away, winking at me over his shoulder on the way out. And Ivy and I waved, shooting him a thumbs-up.
This is it, I thought, adding flowers to the vase in front of me without seeing anything.
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.”
I could see it and smiled. “Yes. And we have almost everything we need. But …” I frowned. “Will it be enough?”
“No.” She deflated for a beat before popping up straight, beaming. “Wheat fields.”
She grabbed her notebook from the table and doodled. Ivy and I leaned over her shoulder.
“We can make frames, like this.” She drew a rectangle. “Chicken wire inside. Take the wheat in bunches and make a field and angle and twist them so it looks like the wind is blowing through in a current. And on the display table—gosh, even under it—we can use the old rain boots and fill them with sunflowers.”
“It’s genius,” Ivy said, grinning ear to ear. “What do we need?”
Tess’s mouth quirked as she nibbled on her lip again. “A shitload of wheat. I have a bundle of dried pampas, but I think I’ll need some more. And twine. Lots and lots of twine.”
I nodded. “I know where to get the grasses and more sunflowers. What about the twine?”
“There’s a fiber shop a few blocks from here,” Tess said. “I’m positive they’ll have what we need.”
“All right. I’ve got to go—if I don’t leave now and the supply store doesn’t have what I need, I’m gonna have to run around. Are you guys good until I get back?”