Sinking into one of her cozy chairs, I sigh. “It’s nothing. Just the town being the town. Everyone’s talking about me and Mike.”

Ellie’s eyes light up. “That’s good! It means the plan is working.”

“Yeah,” I say, fiddling with my fingers. “It’s just… weird. I’m not used to being the center of attention.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” Ellie says with a wink, “you and Mike are officially the cutest fake couple this town has ever seen.”

I laugh despite myself, shaking my head. “Thanks, Ellie. That helps.”

I tell the girls that I finally met Mike and Lulu’s mother, Julia Thorn. She’s a tall, elegant woman with kind eyes and a voice that instantly put me at ease.

“She hugged me tight,” I say, happily remembering the open way Julia had accepted me into their home and their lives. “She’s a gardener, and we had so much to talk about.”

“We had a lively discussion about flowers, gardening, and recipes, and by the end of our chat, it felt like I’d known Julia foryears,” I add. “On her advice, I’ve decided to start a new venture. Who’s in?”

“What is it?” Ellie asks curiously.

“I’m going to teach ‘language of flowers’ classes. The idea came to me while chatting with Julia,” I say excitedly. “My aunt taught me so much, and I’d like to share it with others.”

“Share already!” Ellie interjects.

“Flowers have been used for centuries to communicate emotions,” I explain. “Back in Victorian times, people couldn’t always say what they meant out loud, so they used flowers instead. Each bloom had a meaning, and if you knew the language, you could send entire messages without saying a word.”

“Like a secret love letter in a bouquet?” Ellie murmurs, intrigued.

“Exactly,” I say, my excitement growing. “A bouquet wasn’t just about looking pretty—it was a coded message. The right combination could confess love, express regret, or even reject a suitor without a single spoken word.”

“Most people know this one—red roses mean love and passion.”

Maggie Ann sighs dramatically. “A classic.”

“But if someone gave you a yellow rose in the Victorian era, it didn’t mean love—it meant friendship, or worse, jealousy,” I explain, enjoying sharing my knowledge with a willing audience.

Maggie Ann nudges Ellie playfully. “Better make sure none of your matchmaking couples send yellow roses to the wrong people.”

Ellie laughs. “Noted.”

I smile. “Daisies represent innocence and new beginnings.”

Playful banter fills the air, and I feel an overwhelming sense of joy. I knew both Ellie and Maggie Ann would jump on board.

I proceed to tell them about Julia’s herb garden in the backyard and explain my plans for the classes. It will give me something to do while I wait for the shop to be rebuilt. Luckily, the insurance will pay for a rental, and since I’ll be staying with Lulu, I won’t need money for expenses.

“It’s perfect,” Maggie Ann says when I mention it later that day. “People love learning something new, and it’s for a good cause. We’ll raise enough money to get your shop back on its feet in no time.”

“Maggie Ann, Julia told me that she bakes a lot with the herbs in their garden. I just loved that,” I share.

“Interesting,” Maggie Ann muses. I can see the gears turning in her mind as she thinks about her next batch of savory bakes.

“Yum,” Ellie remarks.

We decide the first class will include a small but enthusiastic group of women from town eager to learn the meanings behind their favorite blooms. I will teach them how to create arrangements that tell a story—roses for love, daisies for innocence, sunflowers for loyalty.

By the end of the brainstorming session, the room is filled with laughter. It’s the first time in weeks that I feel truly hopeful.

This is what I love most—sharing the meaning of flowers, watching people discover how they can tell a story with just a handful of blooms.

And as I catch Mike’s profile approaching through the shop window, I wonder…