*****
Joy’s hands fluttered over the bolts of fabric in the store. The aisles of the Boston marketplace were awash with pre-Christmas vibrancy, bustling with patrons.
“Excuse me,” Joy said, sidestepping a gentleman. “Could you point me toward the toys?”
“Right past the lace, dear lady,” the shopkeeper called from behind the counter.
“Thank you!” she called back, weaving through the crowd.
Once she was in the aisle with the wooden soldiers and porcelain dolls, Joy let out a soft sigh of delight. Her fingers moved over a miniature tea set before settling on a stuffed bear with a comically oversized bow around its neck. “You’ll be perfect for little Susie,” she murmured, tucking the bear under her arm and picking up a toy sailboat. “And this, for Samuel.”
“Planning to start a toy shop?” Thomas’s voice carried over the hubbub.
“Only if it means I can play with the stock daily,” Joy replied without turning, adding a spinning top to her growing collection.
“Ah, but where would we put our toy shop? The greenhouse has taken prime real estate,” he teased, coming to stand beside her.
“Speaking of which,” Joy pivoted to face him, “it’s finished. And it’s beautiful, Thomas. It feels like I’ve been granted my own little patch of Eden.”
His smile deepened at her words. “I’m glad to hear it. I might not know much about dirt, but I understand it makes you happy.”
“Ecstatic,” she corrected, placing a final doll into her basket. “And I’m not the only one who’ll benefit. Imagine the joy on the children’s faces when they see what we’ve brought them.”
“More joy than watching me attempt to garden?” Thomas quipped.
“Far more,” Joy confirmed with a laugh, leading the way to the counter to pay.
*****
Joy was excited to dig in the dirt in her very own greenhouse that weekend, and Thomas had donned an old pair of pants to assist with the planting, although his efforts seemed to result in more soil outside the pots than in.
“Remind me again why we couldn’t hire a gardener for this bit?” he grunted.
“Because,” Joy said, patting down the earth around a young tomato plant, “there’s a certain satisfaction in doing it yourself. Plus, I enjoy your company.”
“Even if my company comes with an atrocious gardening technique?”
“Especially then,” she assured him. “It’s endearing.”
“Endearing,” Thomas echoed, straightening up with a mock frown. “I’ll have that etched on my tombstone: ‘Here lies Thomas Worthington. His gardening was atrocious but endearing.’”
She laughed. “For now, let’s focus on keeping these plants alive instead of thinking of our future tombstones, shall we?”
“Agreed,” he said, offering her a hand to stand. “After all, we’ve got plenty of growth to oversee—plants, children, and…us.”
“Us,” she echoed. “But it seems that I’m the only one growing.” She looked down at her burgeoning belly with a sigh.
“Should I start trying to grow as well?” he asked, looking down at his own flat stomach.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Joy retorted.
*****
“Starting a side business in children’s attire, are we?” Thomas asked, quirking an eyebrow as he picked up a velvety blue scrap of fabric. “I suppose the same people who buy toys will buy the clothes, so we can sell them both in the toy store.”
Joy looked up, her cheeks rosy with warmth. “Oh, Thomas! You startled me,” she said. “No, it’s not a business. These are for the orphans. For Christmas.”
“Ah,” he nodded, understanding dawning upon him. “I see you’ve taken to playing Santa Claus.”
