Chloe in Willowmere

The garden had one last gift to give before the season turned. Mr. Chen had been setting aside the tomato seedlings since spring — not for himself, but for someone he hadn't met yet. When Dev brought his grandmother to the garden that afternoon, leaning gently on his arm and wrapped against the mild chill in her floral sari, Mr. Chen said nothing at first. He simply lifted the small terracotta pot and placed it into her trembling hands. She looked down at the bright green shoots and began to cry — the quiet kind of crying that has nothing to do with sadness. Dev glanced at Chloe, who stood nearby with her blue notebook tucked under her arm. "Thank you," he said softly. Chloe shook her head with a warm smile. "Thank Mr. Chen." The old gardener stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out at the rows of winter-bare beds as if the conversation was already bigger than any of them. "Thank the seeds," he said. And somehow, that was exactly right.