Gretchen tried not to slam her very shatterable vases around the shop. She barely contained her anger, and she didn’t want Drew or Dixie to see it. If they’d ever show up. Her stomach growled, and fury flashed through her again.
They were late. And Drew was never late.
“You should be worried, not angry,” she muttered to herself. But she couldn’t rid herself of this river of frustration. Joel had told her the farm wasn’t for sale. No elaboration, not even when she’d asked.
“Honestly, what’s he going to do with it?” She paid a pittance for the three-acre flower gardens she tended to meticulously. He obviously didn’t need the money. And she didn’t have the funds to buy the farm—but she was willing to do almost anything to secure them.
The need seethed within her, making her hands shake so
