Page 21 of A Heart in Bloom

“Unless you’re Miss Pansy,” Becky added with a chuckle. “Mom said she got one that read,‘Your toes look delicious.’Dad and Dr. Sullivan had to step in for an intervention. They set him up with a proper dinner date, and the rest of his hearts were confiscated. I guess he managed to deliver yours before they shut him down. Sorry about that.” She ended with a shrug and a sheepish grin.

Cammie absorbed the information, her laughter bubbling up as the absurdity sank in. Soon, the others joined in, their shared amusement chasing away any lingering tension. What could have been unsettling had turned into something unexpectedly heartwarming. Allen’s thoughtful gesture, aided by the entire town, had worked. From her very first day, she’d felt accepted and special. The fact that so many people were willing to come together for his plan touched her deeply.

As Cammie wiped the tears from her eyes, a light touch brushed against her fingers. She glanced down to find a curly-haired cherub gazing up at her with soulful brown eyes. “Does that mean I’m too late to deliver mine?” Grace asked, her smallvoice tinged with disappointment as she held up a tiny heart with uneven edges.

Kneeling to meet her at eye level, Cammie took the offered heart with a warm smile. “Grace, I would be honored to accept your message. Thank you. May I read it now?”

Golden curls bounced as Grace nodded energetically.

Cammie unfolded the pink paper heart, its size nearly as large as a salad plate. Written in bold red crayon, the message read:Your good heart makes life sweeter.Warmth filled her chest as she smiled and pulled Grace into a hug.

When she pulled back, Grace was already fishing something else out of her pocket. “Daddy helped me make one more,” she said, holding out a much smaller heart with a proud grin. “I wanted to hide two for you to find, but mine was too big.”

The second note, written in fountain pen and a man’s bold style, read:Keep being you. The way you are is pretty special.Cammie pressed her fingers to her lips as tears filled her eyes. Allen was always trying to affirm that she was enough—that she was worthy just as she was. And here he was, with the help of his friends, saying it in a dozen different ways and through different voices, but all carrying the same message: Camellia Rodes was wanted and loved, just as she was. No changes needed.

Tiny arms wrapped around her neck as the tears slipped free, and little Grace whispered, “We love you, Miss Cammie. Thank you for moving to our town.”

The dam broke, and Cammie cried for real. Soon, all five women had surrounded her in a warm group hug. In their embrace, she felt a love and acceptance she’d never known before. For the first time, she thanked God for every hardship that had brought her here, to this moment, to these people.

She was home.

But one question lingered: where did Allen fit into her new life?

Chapter Nineteen

In the weeks that followed, nothing was decided about their relationship. The women had urged her not to mention the hearts, and she agreed. Allen was having fun, and so was the town—who was she to spoil it?

They continued their dinners almost nightly, except on evenings when Allen’s online classes and assignments kept him busy. Cammie realized he’d delayed his coursework while he worked long hours to help her get set up and was now playing catch up.

She valued their time together—sharing meals, enjoying moonlit strolls—and missed him on the evenings he wasn’t there. That realization alone spoke volumes about the growing place Allen held in her heart. In contrast, Judson hadn’t been missed. Thinking back, she realized his conversations hadn’t been stimulating; instead, they had often left her feeling small and inadequate. His words, often condescending, had chipped away at her confidence over time.

Allen, however, was different. He treated her as an equal, including her in discussions about work, seeking her input on architectural designs, and even asking her thoughts on reports he was preparing. With every conversation and thoughtful gesture, he was helping her reframe her view of relationships and herself. Slowly but surely, she felt herself growing in ways she’d never imagined.

For the first time since childhood tea parties with her father, Cammie felt undeniable happiness.

Cammie was lost in thought, tying elaborate bows around vessels in preparation for the Valentine’s Day rush, now less than a week away. The brass doorbell chimed, pulling her attention to Zach as he stepped inside; Grace’s tiny hand dwarfed in his much larger one.

“Good evening, Cammie. Your shop looks amazing. I’m sorry I missed your grand reopening,” he said in a hurried tone, his eyes scanning the space. “I heard it made the papers and even a few TV broadcasts. Congratulations.”

Cammie’s brow arched slightly. Was Zach nervous? The ex-Ranger, usually steady and composed, seemed unsettled. Meanwhile, Grace, practically vibrating with excitement, bounced on her toes beside him.

As Zach hesitated, gathering his thoughts, Grace peeked up at him, her unrestrained energy a sharp contrast to her father’s tension. From the back of the shop came the familiar sound ofthe door opening, followed by Allen’s steady footsteps—right on time, as usual, to walk her to dinner.

Allen stepped up behind her, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head. His voice dropped to a soft murmur as he greeted her. “Hello, beautiful.” Straightening, he turned his attention to Zach and Grace. “Evening, Boss. Gracie. What brings you two in? Shopping for a special lady?”

Grace’s smile stretched impossibly wide, her excitement bubbling over as she nodded enthusiastically. “Can I ask her now, Daddy?” she whispered —not nearly as softly as she might have thought, given the considerable distance between their heights. At six-foot-three and all bulging muscles, Zach looked like a giant compared to Grace.

Her father’s lips curved into a small, amused smile, the awkwardness he’d been carrying melting away as Grace’s impatience and eagerness came to his rescue. “Yes, Gracie,” he said warmly. “You may ask Miss Cammie for us.”

The little girl squeezed her father’s hand and gave a delighted bounce before launching into her explanation, her words tumbling out in a rush. “We’re going to ask Miss Sullivan to be my mommy! Daddy picked the ring, but I get to plan the prosal. I want to do a hide-and-seek one! Will you help us make lots and lots of red floating balloons?”

No one with a heart could resist this darling girl and her adoring father—especially not Cammie. With a warm smile, she replied, “I’d be honored to help. How many balloons are we talking about?”

“I ran some calculations, and I think we’ll need between 300 and 400 balloons for Grace’s plan. Maybe fewer if we include the mylar ones,” Zach explained. “She wants them to fill the entire bottom floor of the house and block Harper’s view, so we’ll need strings of varying heights—four to six feet. And they all have to be red.”

Zach glanced down at his daughter, his expression softening with affection. “Do you want to tell them why, Lady Bug?” he asked gently.

“My art teacher said colors mean things, so we have to be careful about what we use when giving to others,” Grace explained, her little face solemn. “Pink is for soft, sweet, and new love—like a friend who loves you. But red means real love, deep and true. The forever kind. Daddy and I really love Harper, so we need red balloons to show her we’re serious.”

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