Her Naughty Holiday. Tiffany Reisz

the week and the nursery closed for winter after today. Clover always felt lost when she didn’t have to come in to work at eight every morning and stay until eight every night. With the nursery taking up so much of her time, she didn’t have much of a life outside it. When the nursery closed down for the season, Clover didn’t know what to do with herself. Maybe her mother had a point. Maybe Clover should give her personal life more attention.

      Or maybe that was her family talking, not her.

      “You sure you don’t want me to pimp you out to Pops?” Ruthie asked as she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

      “As God is my witness, I do not want you to pimp me out to your father. Or anyone. Ever.”

      “Your loss. He can do magic with a Big Green Egg. That’s not a sex thing, by the way. That’s a grill.”

      “I know what a Big Green Egg is. I know it is not a sex thing.”

      “Although Mom does say Pops was good—”

      “Stop right there, young lady. I have nothing but respect for your father. Especially since he puts up with you forty-five weeks out of the year. Now go. Have a great week with your mom. Don’t worry about me.”

      “I’m going to worry about you, Clo.”

      “I’m your boss, I’m an adult and I’ll be fine.”

      “You’re my friend. You’re a hot mess. You need help.”

      “I need a hug. Come here.”

      Ruthie groaned as Clover hugged her.

      “No groaning. You’ll have a great time in LA.”

      “Too much sun. I hate the sun,” Ruthie said. “Why would I live here if I liked the sun?”

      “I know you hate the sun. I’m sure it hates you, too. Wear sunscreen and a hat. You’ll come back as ghastly pale and sickly looking as ever, I promise.”

      “You swear?”

      “I swear.”

      “Good luck this week,” Ruthie said, taking Clover by the arms. “Let me know what you decide about the nursery. I’d hate to lose my job here, but I’d also love to be friends with a millionaire, so whatever you choose, I’m on your side.”

      “Soon as I know, you’ll know. Be safe.”

      “If I have to.” Ruthie grabbed her jacket just as her father stuck his head through the office door.

      “Hey, girls.”

      “Sexist,” Ruthie said. “Try again.”

      “Hello, ladies?”

      “Elitist.” Ruthie pulled her jacket on and zipped it up. “One more try.”

      Erick dropped his chin to his chest, and Clover covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

      “Greetings, my fellow Americans,” Erick said, his eyes rolled heavenward as if praying for patience.

      “Better.” Ruthie nodded her approval. “But only because we are Americans. You can’t assume that about everyone.”

      “Are you ready to go, Ruthless? Please say yes.”

      “Ready,” she said. “Just let me refill my water bottle real quick.”

      She walked out of the office with her water bottle in hand, a normal errand but for the little wink she gave Clover as she walked past.

      “How are you, Erick?” Clover asked, hoping that question didn’t sound as awkward to his ears as it did to hers. Now that Ruthie had planted the idea in Clover’s head of asking Erick out, she was having trouble making eye contact with him. And that was too bad. She really liked his eyes.

      “I’m good. Ready for a few days off this week. You?”

      “I hate days off,” she said, sitting on top of her desk. “I’m about to get too many of them for my taste now that we’re closed for the winter.”

      “Will you be climbing the walls by Tuesday?”

      “No, but check on me again in late January when I’ve run out of busywork,” Clover said. “Takes me a couple months to remember how to be lazy.”

      “It wouldn’t take me nearly that long. But hey, thanks for giving Ruthie the whole week off. I know you could use the help cleaning up and locking things down.”

      “It’s fine. She needs to see her mom and everything we have to do can wait until Ruthie gets back. I won’t be in much this week, anyway. Gets too lonely around here when she’s gone.”

      “Tell me about it. I’ll be going nuts this week, too. Clean bathroom? No dishes in the sink? No bras hanging off the shower door? God, why doesn’t my kid leave more often?”

      “You know you’ll miss me,” Ruthie said from the doorway.

      “I do?”

      “You do,” she said, punching him in the arm. “Come on, I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

      “You got everything?” Erick asked as he raised his hand to tick items off on his fingers. “Meds. Phone. Charger. Your homework. Sunscreen.”

      “A Taser, a laser, a can of mace, an actual mace, a hunting knife, yes, yes, yes. I have everything I need for a week in LA. Let’s go, Pops, we’re going to be late.”

      “Bye, dear,” Clover said. “Have fun or whatever it is that you do that’s like having fun.”

      “Thanks, Clo. I left Sven’s number on your desk.”

      “Sven?” Erick repeated as he grabbed Ruthie by her jacket collar and led her from the office. “Who’s Sven?”

      “Nobody,” Ruthie said. “Just a male escort I hired for Clover.”

      “Is that in your job description?” he asked.

      “Yeah, of course. What do you think I do here all day?”

      “Your daughter is weird, Erick,” Clover called after them, considering moving back into her desk nest.

      “You don’t have to tell me that. Have a good Thanksgiving,” he said, gently force-marching Ruthie out to his truck.

      “You, too,” she said. After Erick and Ruthie had gone, Clover forced herself to reply to her two emails.

      To the first—the five-million-dollar buyout offer she’d received from PNW Garden Supply’s CFO—she replied with a simple I’ll let you know on Monday. Happy Thanksgiving.

      To her sister’s email she replied with a smiley face emoji and a Great! Can’t wait to see everyone!

      She made sure to fill the email with unnecessary exclamation points to mask her incredible sense of dread about the whole shebang. All her family—her parents, two siblings, their spouses and seven kids under one roof for an entire day? There was not enough punctuation in the world to fake how much she was not looking forward to that.

      Kelly replied to the email almost immediately.

      Mom wants to know if we’re going to be meeting anyone special on Thursday, Kelly wrote.

      Clover picked up a trowel and considered stabbing her laptop with it so she wouldn’t have to reply.

      Instead she simply ignored the email and got to work cleaning. Potting soil and wheelbarrow went into the storage shed. Ferns back into the greenhouse. It wasn’t the right time of year to trim a lemon tree so she moved it to the opposite corner of the office where it could spread out a little more until she could trim it down again to a more indoor-friendly size. And all the while she thought about what she would do with five million dollars and all the free time anybody could want.

      Five million was a lot of money. Not enough to buy the world but plenty