After buying the shirt, and with a promise to Mrs.
Reed still owed, Claire said goodbye to Naomi and headed out to the Whitman family’s flower nursery.
The nursery sat on the edge of town, nothing flashy at the gate, but past the low wall, color and green spilled out in every direction.
While the rest of Havenbridge had settled into autumn, this one plot of land seemed to be stuck permanently in spring.
Leo, who’d delivered seedlings to Ashford Manor just days earlier, spotted Claire from across the yard and waved enthusiastically, flinging bits of potting soil off his hands.
“Claire!”
She walked over.
“Where’s my dad?”
He pointed toward the back building.
“Big order three thousand roses.
Gordon’s back there counting and packing right now.”
“I’ll go say hi.
Could you pack up some of the new seedlings for me to give away?”
“On it!”
Inside, a tall, lean figure was hauling pots of roses onto a worktable, pausing after just two to rub at his back.
“Dad.” Claire hurried over.
“Let me take those.
Sit for a minute.”
Gordon’s face lit up.
“There you are.
You saw the batch Leo dropped off the other day, right?
Gorgeous.
This new variety you cultivated’s been our best seller lately.
Here take this.”
He pulled open a drawer and counted out five stacks of cash, fifty thousand total.
Claire pushed it back immediately.
“Dad, I’m a botanist.
Cultivating a new variety costs me almost nothing.
We’re family, you don’t need to pay me for it.”
“Nonsense,” Gordon shot back.
“You develop the variety, the nursery profits, you get a cut.
That’s just fair.
Take it.”
As she held the cash, her eyes caught a ledger tucked in the drawer behind it.
She reached for it.
“What’s this?”
“Nothing!”
Gordon lunged for it, but Claire was faster, flipping it open.
Every page logged, down to the year, the month, the exact cent every dollar he’d ever given her.
“Claire, don’t misread this.
I’m not keeping score against you.”
“It’s just when you were sick, you asked Ethan for a dowry advance to cover the surgery.
I’ve never forgotten that.
It wasn’t much money to him, sure, but people still talk.
Some of them say you only married him for the Ashford money.”
“So I’ve been paying it back, thirty, fifty thousand at a time.
This place only started turning a real profit a few years ago, and you’re taking on debt on my behalf?”
Gordon waved a hand.
“I’m not too old to work yet.
I’ll pay back whatever I can, so you can hold your head up in that family without anyone whispering.”
Something in Claire’s chest ached, sharp and tender at once.
She’d known since childhood that the Ashfords had placed her with Gordon.
She’d never let herself hope he’d treat her exactly like his own daughter.
But she’d still envied things, quietly, over the years the extra piece of meat he’d always given his real daughter, the dress he’d picked out just for her, the potted flower he’d planted with his own hands as a gift.
As a kid, outside of school, Claire had spent her time doing laundry, cooking, helping around the nursery hoping, more than anything, to hear Gordon say once, “My daughter did well.”
But Gordon had never been unkind to her either.
Settling this debt now, even in his own stubborn way, was still him looking out for her.
He’d had no obligation to take her in at all.
His kindness had always been enough to earn her gratitude, never quite enough to ask for more than that.
“You came all this way, was it just for the seedlings?”
Gordon studied her carefully, catching something off in her usually calm expression.
“It’s nothing.
Just wanted to see you.
Keep the money, pay yourself back whenever you’ve saved up again.”
Claire had come here half-intending to tell him about the divorce.
She swallowed it back instead.
Gordon sighed, tucking the cash back into the drawer.
“You’re rarely out this way, stay for dinner?
I picked up meat this morning, was going to make braised pork tonight.”
Before he’d even finished, a bright child’s voice rang out from the yard.
“Grandpa!”
A small boy barreled into Gordon’s arms, followed closely by a man and woman.
Gordon’s only biological daughter, Denise, and her husband, Kevin.
“Sis.
Kevin.”
“Claire’s here too?
Perfect timing Kevin picked up roast duck.
Dad, cook up a couple more dishes, we’ll all eat together.”
Claire glanced at Kevin and immediately looked away.
“Actually, I’ve got somewhere to be.
Just came for the seedlings.
You all enjoy dinner.
I’ll head out.”
She said a quick goodbye to Gordon and left fast.
Denise frowned, watching her go.
“She never stays more than two sentences.
Is she really that busy?”
Kevin scoffed.
“She’s married into money now.
Probably thinks a home-cooked meal like this is beneath her.”
Denise clicked her tongue at him.
“She could’ve married royalty and she’d still have grown up eating our family’s rice.
Go smoke outside, don’t choke your son on secondhand smoke.”
Kevin suddenly perked up, pulling Denise closer.
“Speaking of Ethan just took over as CEO of the Ashford Group.
If he throws a few projects my way, we could make real money.
And while we’re at it, talk to your dad about our son’s schooling.
If Gordon gives the green light, Claire’s bound to help.”
Denise thought that sounded reasonable.
Gordon shut the idea down the second she brought it up.
“Absolutely not.
You think Claire has it easy over there?
Families like that don’t forgive mistakes; they’ll swallow you whole and leave nothing behind.
Run your own business.
Leave Claire out of it.”
Denise bristled.
“Dad, what do you mean, ‘leave her out of it’?
She grew up in this house.
I think of her as my own sister.
What’s wrong with a little help between families?”
“And another thing if you really thought she was struggling over there, why’d you let her go through with it?
You took the betrothal gifts and watched her sign the marriage certificate without a word.”
“You”
Gordon flushed, caught somewhere between shame and anger.
Claire had accepted Ethan’s betrothal gift that morning, handed every cent straight to the hospital for Gordon’s surgery, and gone to register the marriage that same afternoon.
He’d told her at the time nothing more needed to be given it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
And he was only her adoptive father.
Interfering now would just make it look like he couldn’t stand to see her marry better than his own daughter.
“Get out!
Take your things and go eat your duck at your own house!”
Denise and her family were sent packing.
In the car, Denise fumed.
“If Dad won’t help, we’ll go straight to Claire ourselves.
We’re family.
What’s there to be ashamed of?”
Kevin stopped her.
“Our son hasn’t eaten.
Take him home, get him fed.
I’ll go talk to Claire myself, it’s business, you won’t be able to explain the details right anyway.”
Denise agreed, though she kept muttering complaints about Claire the whole ride home.
Once his wife and son were dropped off, Kevin drove straight to Ashford Manor.
Sharp as ever, he asked for Aunt Nora specifically.
Gordon and Aunt Nora went way back, old colleagues from Gordon’s years working for the Ashford family.
She let him right in.
“Aunt Nora, is Ethan back yet?”
Rosalind had just finished showering, wrapped in a robe, and came downstairs.
Claire still hadn’t responded to her message.
No telling whether she’d seen it or was deliberately ignoring it either way, it grated.
Anxious, Rosalind heard noise downstairs and rushed down without bothering to properly fasten her robe.
Not who she expected.
“Who are you?”
Both of them said it at once.
Kevin, ever the opportunist, took one look, a strange woman coming downstairs half-dressed this late, Claire clearly nowhere in sight and drew his own conclusions instantly.
So that’s why Gordon didn’t want us involved.
The marriage is already falling apart.
His eyes flicked over her, and he stepped forward, oily and eager.
“This must be the future Mrs.
Ashford?
I’m Gordon Whitman’s son-in-law.”
After days of frustration, Rosalind finally heard something she liked.
She adjusted her robe, voice sliding into something haughtier.
“I wouldn’t dare claim that title yet.
Your Claire refuses to step aside gracefully, threatens to end me every other week, practically.
I have no warm feelings toward the Whitman family whatsoever.
If you’re here looking for help, you might be talking to the wrong person just yet.”
Kevin caught the implication immediately and started nodding, practically bowing.
“You made exactly the right call coming to me.
A woman as capable as you, Mrs.
Ashford it’s practically fate that our paths crossed tonight.”
“Put in a good word for me with Ethan, and I’ll help you get that clueless girl Claire to step out of your way.
Deal?”
Rosalind’s brow lifted slightly.
“You have a way to do that?”