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*

Perversely, the nextmorning dawned clear with a hint of spring and wet grass teasing the air when Jessica pushed back the shutters and opened the dormer-style windows. She scanned for damage, and it took her a moment to realize what was wrong. She could see a hint of the brick golf clubhouse in the distance. Jessica’s breath caught. That meant… Censoring a curse, she hopped out of bed, tugged a long-sleeve T over her head and fed her arms into a flannel shirt. She tugged on some work pants and, not even stopping to brew coffee, she stuck her stocking feet into her work boots and charged out of the mudroom door at a dead run toward her four long greenhouses.

“Oh no.” She could barely comprehend the destruction. She felt dizzy and even swayed as she blinked again and again, trying to see something different instead of the two tall loblolly pines crashed through two of her greenhouses.

Six months of work, more than a few thousand dollars, and who knew how many plants were destroyed?

“Oh no,” she whispered again. What to do? Where to begin? She’d need to take pictures. Document the damage for insurance. But she’d have to get the greenhouses repaired quickly or she could lose all of her plants, especially if there was another cold snap.

But Chloe’s party split her focus on what else had to be done.

Jessica’s eyes stung, and she blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay. She didn’t need her father loftily telling her that tears solved nothing.

“Hold it together. Think, Jess. Think.”

She began to take pictures of the damage, ignoring Chloe’s checking-in text, followed closely by Sarah’s and then Meghan’s.

“I was afraid of this.”

Storm.

She bit her lip and kept her phone partially shielding her face and her back to him until she was sure she had full control of her rioting emotions.

“Have a care, Jay, there’s glass.”

She didn’t answer as the damage from the storm overwhelmed her.

“I put an order to hold two dumpsters last night just in case, and I’ve already texted to have both of them delivered,” he said, voice and expression calm—the direct opposite of her feelings.

“I’ve called in a crew I’ve worked with before to help me get the debris cleared. We should be able to do that today and start repairs and move the plants either to the other greenhouses if they weren’t damaged too badly or perhaps the barn.”

“Repair?” It looked like a total loss. And her brain wasn’t functioning well enough to calculate the unexpected costs.

“I repaired most of these myself,” Jessica said clinging to her pride so tears wouldn’t fall. “This is going to be my business. I make the decisions. You should have run those ideas by me so I could calculate the costs.”

“Yeah.” Storm sounded unimpressed. “Not the first time you’ve mentioned that.” He surveyed the smashed glass and twisted framing. She noticed he had a chainsaw. And he looked disgustingly virile and put together while she hadn’t even washed her face or brushed her teeth.

They stood side by side, while different words and phrases skittered around her brain.

She hadn’t wanted help. She’d wanted this to be her business. Her vision. Her baby. She didn’t want to be bossed or criticized again. And she knew—just knew—she was overreacting to her parents’ high standards over the years as well as the years at her firm where she worked hard and kept her head down and emotions under wraps, and now that she’d pushed and pushed and pushed against her own glass ceiling along with ones made by others, she felt like something had finally shattered, only it was within her.

“Is this a sign?” she whispered.

“It’s a storm, Jay. Part of life. Part of doing business. A last gasp of winter, and I am the storm that’s going to clear a path through.”

She opened her mouth to…what? Protest? Who was she kidding? She may not have wanted help, but she definitely needed it.

“I need to text my sisters and tell them everything’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Storm said, “but you’ll want to find somewhere quieter to make your call.”

“Huh?”

He winked. His insouciance firmly back in place, and then he lowered his safety glasses, and tucked his large ear protectors over his ears and pulled the slumbering chainsaw awake.

*

“Stop hovering.”