[TWO]

Asked how and why this Nordstrom buyer chooses what she does, Margo

winked and said, “As long as she picks your wonderful thing, what does it

matter?” A predictable answer from the enigmatic supermodel who has

people falling at her perfect, beautiful feet wherever she goes.

“I can help prep you if you want.” Henry’s lips twist in thought. “But it

might not be the right move for you.”

“What do you mean? It’s Nordstrom.” Where’s he going with this?

“This is your company, Abbi. Your brand. No one else’s. You get to call

the shots. But do you want my opinion?”

“Of course. Always.” Henry runs a multibillion-dollar empire. There’s

no one’s advice I value more, even if it’s for my little soap business.

“Don’t be so quick to hand it over to anyone.”

I frown. “But I thought landing distribution in a department store is the

end game.”

“Maybe. But in today’s retail world, maybe not. You clearly have

something people want. You’re only just starting out and look at all the

demand you’re already stirring up.”

“You mean that Margo is stirring up.” She’s been tapping into beauty

industry connections that even Henry doesn’t have.

“She knows who to talk to, I agree.” Henry leans forward, resting his

elbows on his knees. “But you don’t want to lose control too quickly by

signing contracts that handcuff you. Besides, a contract like that means you

have to find a production facility, which means you risk manufacturing a

subpar product because you can’t possibly make that much by hand. That’s

something you want to work up to, instead of getting thrown into.”

“So you don’t think I should pursue this.”

He hesitates. “It’s your company.”

I groan with frustration. “Henry, you’ve been involved with my

company since this all started. Now you’ve decided to stay out of it?”

“Fine. I don’t think you should take the deal.” His voice has shifted to

that typical commanding tone. “You can have a highly successful business

without your product ever touching a shelf inside a store, at least for now.

My advice is to stay the course. Build your name on your own first. Retail

store contracts will be worth that much more later.”

I weigh Henry’s words. “Zaheera seems to know what she’s doing.” In

the time since Henry hired and paid for Nailed It to step in and help memake something of my hobby, I now have stylish packaging, a website, and

a basic but perfect new name—Farm Girl Soap—for my legal company.

“They’re the best at what they do. That’s why we went with them.”

“We?” There was no “we” in that decision the day I got the phone call

from Zaheera.

Henry ignores me. “She’ll make sure it grows at a healthy rate that

you’re comfortable with, so you’re not overwhelmed. Besides, you still

have a degree to finish, right?”

I wince at the reminder. “I’m so behind.” After my father’s accident,

when I knew I couldn’t head back to Chicago to finish my last year fulltime

because my parents needed help, I enrolled in correspondence courses.

I’ve barely touched the assigned work for this semester, too wrapped up in

life with Henry.

“You’ll get there.” He takes my hand in his, his thumb sliding over the

pearl. “And now you have a wedding to plan too.”

A thrill radiates through me as I admire the ring again. My wedding to

Henry. Because Henry will be my husband soon. It still doesn’t feel real,

and I doubt it will until I’m walking down the aisle. “If I can wrestle it

away from Mama.” I held my breath when I announced the good news over

the phone just before leaving Wolf Cove, not sure what to expect from a

woman who has done everything in her power to keep Henry and me apart,

including ingesting caffeine pills to fake a heart attack.

The whoop of glee that escaped her had my mouth hanging. According

to her, Henry is doing the honorable thing … finally. We’ve only been

together a few months.

Henry chuckles. “At least she’s not knitting a Henry doll to burn in

effigy.”

“Have you met Bernadette Mitchell? She’d be afraid God himself

would strike her with lightning for something so sinful as black magic.”

His laughter grows, his eyes twinkling. “Do you think she’ll keep it

quiet—”

“Not a chance.” There won’t be a soul in Greenbank, Pennsylvania, who

won’t have heard about my engagement by the end of the day, which means

the media will find out shortly after. With all the interest in Henry these

days, that’s likely to cause a stir. Will the headlines be kind or judgmental?

Worry gnaws at my bliss, threatening to damper it.

“And did you tell her it would be in Alaska?”

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