Chapter Text
Eloise arrived at the community garden with the air of someone about to solve a mystery, right a wrong, or possibly expose a scandal involving begonias.
Clipboard in hand and ink smudged on her cheek, she scanned the sprawling greenery for her target.
She spotted him crouched by a patch of drooping marigolds, entirely engrossed in his task.
Dr. Phillip Crane, local botanist and her interview subject, was far less intimidating than she expected.
Tall and broad, yes, but decidedly more… rumpled than the broody genius she had imagined.
“Dr. Crane,” she began brightly.
Without looking up, he replied, “If you’re here to complain about the fennel, I assure you it’s perfectly legal.”
Eloise blinked, thrown off her script. “I’m not here to complain about fennel—though now I feel I should be concerned. I’m here to tell your story, save this garden, and possibly win a Pulitzer in the process.”
This earned her a glance. He straightened, brushing dirt from his hands as he took her in. “Pulitzer?” he echoed, his brow furrowed.
She grinned. “Hyperbole. But the sentiment stands. Think of me as your translator for the masses.”
Phillip sighed heavily, glancing back at his marigolds. “Wonderful. Another invasive species.”
Later that afternoon, Eloise sat at one of the garden’s weathered picnic tables, furiously scribbling notes.
Daphne, her older sister and the garden’s de facto organizer, appeared with her signature poised expression and a steaming cup of tea.
“You called him a ‘broody tree whisperer’ in your last article,” Daphne said, sliding the cup toward Eloise.
“Well, he is!” Eloise retorted, waving her pen for emphasis. “The man communicates better with begonias than people. It’s both impressive and infuriating.”
Daphne sighed. “He’s a brilliant botanist who has given everything to this project. We need him. Please don’t scare him off.”
Eloise rolled her eyes. “Relax, Daphne. I’m all charm.”
Daphne eyed the ink stain on Eloise’s cheek and the dirt smudges on her skirt. “You’re something, all right.”
Eloise’s charm was quickly put to the test when Phillip’s twins, Amanda and Oliver, arrived to “help.”
Amanda, eight years old and bossy as a queen bee, immediately began issuing orders to her brother.
“Do you always argue this much?” Amanda asked, watching Eloise and Phillip bicker over the merits of fennel.
Eloise paused mid-rant, her hands on her hips. “Only with your father.”
“Why?” Oliver piped up, struggling to lift a watering can nearly half his size.
“Because he’s wrong,” Eloise said simply, flashing a grin.
Phillip, crouched by yet another patch of marigolds, exhaled loudly. “I’m standing right here.”
“So you admit it!” Eloise said triumphantly, pointing her pen at him like a sword.
Amanda leaned conspiratorially toward her brother. “I like her.”
Oliver nodded solemnly. “Me too.”
Phillip muttered something about invasive species and returned to his plants.
That evening, over coffee at Kate’s kitchen table, Eloise vented her frustrations.
“He’s impossible,” she declared, gesturing wildly. “He treats me like I’m some sort of weed that’s sprouted in his perfect little ecosystem.”
“I like him,” Kate said decisively, sipping her coffee.
“You would,” Eloise shot back. “You have a soft spot for uptight men with tragic backstories.”
Kate didn’t bother denying it. “He’s handsome, passionate, and he puts up with you. What’s not to like?”
Eloise groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’m not looking for a love story, Kate. This is strictly professional.”
Kate’s eyebrow arched. “You literally described him as ‘broody.’”
“That’s an observation, not a sonnet.”
The next day, Eloise found herself back at the garden, ready to finish her interview.
But before she could ask a single question, the conversation veered off course.
“Fennel is invasive,” Phillip declared, gesturing to a thriving patch of the herb.
“It’s delicious,” Eloise countered.
“It destroys native plants.”
“It’s excellent in pasta.”
Phillip stared at her, clearly exasperated. “Are you always this difficult?”
Eloise grinned, utterly unrepentant. “Oh, Dr. Crane, we’re just getting started.”
And for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Phillip smiled.