Page 2 of A Future in Blossom

In Tessa’s mind, she envisioned rows of blue hydrangeas and creamy white gardenias and rhododendrons with blossoms the size of dinner plates.

He turned a quarter circle. “Spring blooms over there.”

Sweet peas, peonies ... oh, and bulbs! Tulips and daffodils. Imagine how lovely they’d look in the full glory of spring.

“Over there, where the sun hits first, will be the summer annuals.”

She turned to the right, her mind spinning. Snapdragons, zinnias, cosmos, asters, ranunculi. She could see it all! Daffodils in the spring, ending with dahlias in the fall. Loveliness all year long. A year of flowers.

She turned in a circle, imagining all those flowers on what was now a mess of brown dirt. Without Dawson, it would stay a mess. But with him, by next summer, these three acres would be transformed into a lush garden. She imagined hosting flower events and teaching people how to grow flowers and selling flowers to suppliers or at farmers’ markets.

“You’ll be able to see the flowers bloom from your lavish digs.”

She turned to the used Airstream she’d bought, tucked against the edge of the property. Dawson had rented a small house in town and thought she was crazy to live in a trailer, but she wanted to live right here, watching over her land.

“Here’s something else to think about. A fellow in town toldme that the woods next to these three acres might be going up for sale soon. Six more acres. I walked through it this morning, and it wouldn’t take much to clear the land. If we bought it, that could mean nine acres. More than enough for the kind of year-round flower farm you have in mind.”

Buy it? Six more acres? Tessa loved the idea of it, loved it so much ... but ... six more acres would require ... a lot of cash. Alot.

“And if we use only solar power, we might be able to get a grant from the energy company.”

She grinned. “You? You’re willing to accept financial assistance from the public utility grid?”

He lifted his chin. “I am willing to be rewarded for using the sun in the way the Almighty intended it to be used.”

She laughed. Dawson had a deep distrust of government and an abhorrence for politics. And then a nagging worry spilled out. “Dawson, what if people think we just have a hippie farm?”

He spun around, a curious look on his face. “A hippie farm,” he repeated in a flat voice. “Since when did farming become a hippie thing?” He took a few steps closer. “What’s up? Why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know. I just ... Last night I lay awake in the trailer wondering if I might have made a huge mistake. And then I dragged you into it.” When he should be getting a real job. Real as in a consistent salary, and medical benefits, and a retirement plan. Not a high-risk flower farm.

His dark eyebrows lifted. “You couldn’t have dragged me into something I didn’t want to do.”

True. Dawson was no pushover. She looked up at him. “But are you sure we can make it a success?”

“I’m sure we can give it our best efforts. Mountain Blooms Farm was a success. This soil is in much better shape than that clay dirt was.”

“It’s just that Sunrise is such a small town. Do you think we’ll beable to find a market for flowers? We’re going to have to take flowers to Highlands or to Asheville. We’ll be on the road constantly.”

“Not constantly. Only when the flowers are in full bloom.” He took a step closer to her. “So, what’s really up?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the one who’s never doubted there’s a market just waiting for fresh-cut flowers.” He folded his arms against his chest. “So what’s really bothering you?”

“Um, well, I...” She looked down at her green Wellies. “I seem to ... have run out of reasons to postpone seeing Rose.” She blew out a puff of cold air. She’d tried to avoid this encounter for seven years.

Dawson knew what this meeting meant to her. How hard it was for her. “You can do this, Tessa Anderson. You’re stronger than you think.”

“Right.” Absolutely. She was stronger than she thought.

No, she wasn’t.

two

Gardens and flowers have a way of bringing people together, drawing them from their homes.

—Clare Ansberry

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