Page 10 of A Heart in Bloom

Becky placed a friendly hand on her arm. “You’re more than welcome, and no dinner necessary. It was our pleasure to spend a few hours helping you move.”

“Agreed,” Gwen added. “Anika and I need to get back to the Gathering Grounds to make sure my evening crew didn’t break anything. It’s the first time I’ve left them unsupervised—a test, you might say—but I don’t want to push my luck. A lot of damage can happen in just a few hours.” She smiled warmly. “Rain check, though. We definitely want to get to know you better.”

“Of course,” Cammie replied, a little shy at being turned down. “Just let me know when you’re free.”

“I hate to help and run, but I’ve got grading and lesson plans to catch up on,” Harper said, glancing lovingly at Zach. “I might have taken a bit too much time off during winter break.”

Zach wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his expression tender. “Same here, though not the grading part. I’ve got a little girl at home who’s counting on me to help her with homework from this drill-sergeant teacher of hers.” His grin made Cammie smile, even as a twinge of sadness surfaced at all she had lost.

The others echoed similar sentiments, their smiles warm and genuine as they headed home. Only Allen lingered, his eyes meeting Cammie’s with an easy grin.

“Well, they might not have time or be hungry, but I could definitely eat,” he said, humor lacing his tone. “If your offer still stands, I’d love to take you up on it.”

Cammie hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty passing through her. One-on-one time with Allen hadn’t been her plan, but he’d come to her rescue so many times, and his relaxed demeanor always put her at ease. She nodded, offering a small smile. “Sure. Hickory Falls Café or something else?”

“The Café sounds perfect,” he replied, stepping aside to let her lead the way.

The café was quiet, most of the dinner rush long gone. A few old-timers lingered over coffee and slices of pie, their curious smiles following them as they slid into a cozy corner booth near the back. The waitress appeared moments later, placing steaming mugs of coffee on the table, and the hum of conversation and distant laughter provided a comforting backdrop.

“Are you taking time to sleep?” Allen asked, leaning back against the booth, his tone concerned. “Between packing your shop and apartment, taking on Betty’s inventory last night, and the deliveries this morning—I’m pretty sure I saw you out on the road—you’ve got to be running on fumes.”

Cammie gave a wry smile, though his keen observation was a little unnerving. “I don’t really have a choice, do I? It’s sink or swim. Honestly, I feel like I’m barely treading water with what’s left of my energy. If I can just get the new space set up, I’ll carve out a day to rest. But there’s so much to do before Valentine’s Day. If I’m not ready, I’ll miss my biggest day of the year.” She paused, her voice dipping slightly. “Without that, I won’t have a rainy-day fund for the rest of the year.”

Allen’s gaze softened as he leaned forward slightly, holding her eyes. “You’re doing amazing. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard to make something happen. A total relocation in a little over a week? That’s not just impressive—it’s inspiring.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, a warm glow spreading through her as she stirred her coffee. “But none of this would have been possible without everyone’s help. Especially yours.”

They spent the next few minutes discussing logistics for the following days, going over timelines, schedules, and the order of events needed to keep everything running smoothly. Cammie marveled once again at Allen’s ability to take so many moving parts and fit them neatly into place, bringing order to what could easily have been chaos.

Their meals arrived—a hearty stew for her and steak and potatoes for him—and conversation shifted naturally. They began with casual banter about the day, but Allen’s easy charm soon guided them into more personal territory. The natural rhythm of their exchange put Cammie at ease, and before she realized it, she was sharing more than she’d intended.

He shared stories of his childhood in the coastal suburbs of Boston, painting vivid pictures of summers spent on his grandfather’s fishing boat. “Gramps was a legend on the water,” he said, his smile warm with nostalgia. “But after one too many storms, I realized I wasn’t cut out for life on the sea. The ocean’sbeautiful—until it decides to remind you how small you really are.”

Cammie tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her hazel eyes. “So why the Army and not the Navy? That seems like a big leap, given your family’s legacy on the water.”

“Exactly why I chose it,” Allen said with a wry chuckle. “I needed to break away from family expectations. After those storms, I wasn’t getting back on a boat, and I definitely wasn’t going to spend my life serving seafood at one of the family restaurants. The Army felt like a fresh start—and I liked the idea of solid ground under my feet.”

She laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “Fair enough. So, how did architecture come into the picture?”

Allen shrugged, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I was always sketching as a kid—mostly landscapes. I wasn’t great at portraits and rarely tried. One Christmas, my gram flipped through my sketch pad and pointed out something I’d never noticed—all my drawings included buildings, and those were always the most detailed part of the scene. That’s when it clicked: I wasn’t just sketching landscapes; I was drawn to architecture.”

He paused, stirring his coffee. “At first, it was just a way to pass time, but after the Army, I decided to take it seriously. When I transitioned out, I reached out to the guys to see where everyone was. Zach offered me a job on his construction crew, knowing I wanted to work in building but didn’t want to go back to Boston and risk getting pulled into the fisherman’s life I never wanted.”

Allen leaned back, a flicker of gratitude in his expression. “Thanks to the GI Bill, I’ve been able to go to school on my terms. Zach’s been great about letting me work around my class schedule. If all goes well, I’ll have my architecture degree finished in two years.”

“That’s incredible,” Cammie said, genuine admiration in her voice. “Was your family okay with you breaking away from their way of life?”

“They were,” Allen said with a small smile. “It surprised them at first. My family’s been tied to the sea for generations—fishing, boating, restaurants, the whole works. But my grandparents were proud when I enlisted, and when I told them I wanted to be an architect, they were thrilled. My parents have always been supportive, though I think my dad’s a little disappointed I’m not on the boat with him. Still, he has my brothers to carry on the tradition, so it’s not like I left him hanging. Honestly, my family’s amazing—they’d never reject me over my choice of profession.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “What about you?”

Cammie toyed with her fork, her eyes lowering to her plate. “I wanted to be a landscape architect once,” she admitted softly. “But my mother had other plans. Floral design was the compromise—close enough to landscaping without actually digging in the dirt.”

Allen raised an eyebrow, a hint of humor softening his tone. “Your mom isn’t a fan of dirt?”

“She wasn’t a fan of me doing anything that didn’t fit her idea of a perfect southern belle,” Cammie admitted, her tone dry. “In her world, I was supposed to marry a rich man, throw fancy parties, and keep a pristine garden. Digging in other people’s dirt didn’t exactly align with that. According to her, I was meant to be more than a common working woman. As if keeping a wealthy husband happy is some kind of worthy life aspiration,” she scoffed bitterly.

“Sounds like an antiquated life plan,” Allen said, his brow furrowing. “Is she happy now that you’ve built something for yourself?”

“You have no idea just how antiquated. I swear my mother lives by a 1940s ladies’ etiquette book.” She smiled faintly, though a hint of sadness lingered. “And not really. She doesn’t know the details of my current situation. Becoming a florist was the perfect middle ground since it had practical applications to my future as a socialite. If she understood that I was providing for myself long-term through self-employment as a florist, she’d faint and then throw a fit.”

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