Page 69 of A Touch of Spring Magic

“Not rich anymore,” she declared though she’d offset some of her intensive spending by picking up some tax and bookkeeping clients. It wasn’t a lot, but she quickly realized she could be inundated with numbers work, and while that was a relief, she’d also learned in the past couple of months that working outside with the plants, planning, seeing her vision come alive and nurturing nature was where she belonged.

Once the frame of the garden was finished, and it was nearly there, she could make time in her schedule to pick up more clients and keep her CPA certs she’d worked so hard for current so she could help her cash flow as she built her business, and also in the slow times. Timing was perfect, she realized, because her busiest time at tax season would be a slower time in the nursery.

“You worried?”

“No, I mean I should be maybe as I am a bit of a control and planner freak.”

“Really?”

She lightly headbutted him and imagined that she felt his fingers skim her hair—or was that just wishful thinking?

“But doing such a deep dive preparing for the party really forced me to make choices and hone my vision, which was more wobbly than I’d realized. I didn’t think I was such a dreamer. Who knew? Chloe was always the creative dreamer of us.”

“She is that—brilliant ideas spill out of her mouth like gumballs in one of those big antiquey machines.”

“Don’t think I forgot you tried to get me to buy one for the shop.” She mock shuddered. “That’s all I need: gum on garden paths or small children choking.”

“Rather a dark vision. Speaking of which…” He paused. “I’ve seen Miss Millie holding court flanked by Chloe and Rustin and Meghan or Sarah, but I haven’t seen your parents.”

Jessica crashed back down to earth with a thump. “I know. It’s mortifying because a lot of people have noticed and asked.”

“Sorry.” Storm did look apologetic. “It’s just a big day, and you and Sarah and Meghan always called Chloe a sister, but she treats Grandma Millie more like a mom yet has always called her Grandma Millie. I used to see her a lot as my dad wasn’t much of a cook, so we’d go to Millie’s for a late lunch or early dinner when I was growing up, and Chloe would often be in there up at the counter by the kitchen reading, or doing homework or acting as hostess, server and busser depending on what was needed.”

“I never really understood my mom’s attitude,” Jessica confessed—she’d never discussed this with any of her friends growing up—why give them the ammunition? “She pretended like Chloe was a ghost or didn’t exist. I couldn’t imagine how painful that was, but she wouldn’t discuss or explain, sort of like her own Queen of Belmont. But Chloe never seemed to mind. I think she got the message super young and just never tried. It bothers us more than her.”

“Maybe.” Storm didn’t sound certain. “But today is a day for celebration.”

Jessica felt she could stare in the warmth of his gaze forever, but she was afraid of what would happen next. She could no longer trust that if he did want to try for a relationship with her, it was real. Or was it the book? And she felt ashamed that she couldn’t let go of something as untethered to fact as a superstition.

Or was it more commonplace and familiar? Fear. Not being good enough.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Storm spoke softly after a long silence that was in no way uncomfortable. “Not here,” he said. “This is a time of celebration, but soon. When you’re up for it.”

“We can talk now,” she said, keeping her voice neutral even as panic clawed at her throat. He was going to ask her out. Confess his feelings. If only he hadn’t eaten that dang tart.

“We’ve been working together over two months now,” he began. “You didn’t want to cloud our relationship with anything personal. I’m wondering…do you still feel the same?”

“No,” she whispered stung so sharply she was surprised she didn’t have welts. “No. No. No, and that’s the problem.”

“Huh?”

“You ruined everything. Destroyed our chance.”

He stared at her uncomprehendingly. “Jessica.”

“Don’t you see?” She grabbed the front of his maroon button-up shirt. “It’s not me. It’s not me you love. It’s the book. You ate the tart, and it’s ruined everything.”

“Jessica, babe, that’s a bit of a…stretch,” he ventured.

“Oh you think so. You could barely look me in the eye the first day you came here because of history and life and…and so many reasons. I was careful. I wanted to protect myself and you. Don’t.” For emphasis she pressed her fingers against his mouth when he tried to speak. “You may think that you care for me, but you don’t. It’s the book. It’s the tart.”

“What?” She could barely understand him as he mumbled through her hand.

“Jessica.” He caught her hand and gently kissed her fingers but kept his hold steady. “The book didn’t change my feelings. That’s not possible.”

“Don’t say anything. You’re under a spell. I thought I was careful, but that fairy—totally clueless move on my part. Your feelings aren’t real, Storm. It’s the juju of the book or whatever. They’re not real, whereas mine…”

She gasped in a breath before she jumped off an emotional cliff.

---